The Ogre Downstairs

by Diana Wynne Jones

  “Thank you awfully for coming,” Caspar said.

  Douglas, in reply, held up a test tube with a cork in it. It was just over half-full of liquid. “Here you are,” he said, rather breathlessly. “That’s our last drop and you’re each to use a quarter of it. Then give it back to me, because I need it to get home on.”

  Gwinny, with great difficulty, managed to bend her knees sufficiently to reach the tube. “It is kind of you,” she said.

  “Oh, don’t madden me by being grateful,” said Douglas. “Get on and use it. And hurry up. I go heavy awfully quickly.”

  Gwinny hastily uncorked the tube and poured a quarter – or perhaps less, because she was so dismayed at what Douglas said – of the liquid into her hand.

  “Rub it on anywhere,” said Douglas. “Your face’ll do. And make sure Johnny’s got the tube first.”

  So Gwinny handed the test tube to Johnny and splashed the icy handful of liquid on to her cheeks. The feeling of lightness spread through her, and her feet gently left the ledge. Douglas startled her by reaching up and grabbing hold of her ankle.

  “Hang on to me,” he said. “You can help hold me up.”

  While Johnny was measuring out his quarter and passing the tube to Caspar, Gwinny struggled her way down Douglas’s outstretched arm and twisted her fingers into his anorak. His weight brought her down a little, and they both floated just below the big blue L. Then Johnny bobbed clear of the ledge.

  “Catch hold of Gwinny, said Douglas. “And you,” he said to Caspar, “keep that tube and pass it down the line to me.”

  Caspar, though he was a little annoyed at being ordered about and organised like this, did as he was told. As soon as he was floating, he caught hold of Johnny. The tube travelled slowly and perilously down to Gwinny, who poured the last small quantity down into Douglas’s cupped hand. Douglas gave a sigh of relief and splashed it on his face.

  “Right,” he said. “Keep hanging on and all kick like mad. And let’s hope we’ve got enough to get us home. If we haven’t, there’ll be hell to pay. Father was prowling round the house really suspiciously when I left.”

  With these encouraging words, he let go the letter L and at once sank about three feet lower. They floated in an irregular ballooning line, with Johnny highest, clutching Gwinny’s scarf. Douglas’s flippers beat and they felt themselves tugged down Market Street. They all kicked too, Gwinny like a frog, the boys in imitation of Douglas. They gathered momentum as they kicked, and shortly they were going very well indeed – almost ten miles an hour, Johnny reckoned breathlessly. They flashed down Market Street, drove across the roundabout and, panting hard, kicked their way through the zig-zag of streets towards home. They were halfway up their own street when Gwinny felt Douglas dropping.

  “Oh dear!” she said.

  “Faster,” said Douglas. “Kick like mad, all of you.”

  They kicked frantically, dropping lower and lower, until Caspar’s feet were almost pointing upwards. Douglas was trailing down, brushing people’s hedges. About two houses off their own, he went finally and completely heavy. All four dropped downwards, trailing like a kite’s tail, and Douglas, with all his weight dangling from Gwinny’s fingers, was dragged across the pavement on the ends of his flippers.

  “Oh!” squeaked Gwinny. “I can’t! I can’t hold on!”

  “You’ve got to,” said Caspar. “Kick, Johnny.”

  By kicking violently, they trailed Douglas ten yards. Gwinny was squeaking all the time that she could not hold on, and with every kick they all sank lower and lower.

  “This is no good,” said Douglas. “You’ll have to let go.” He braced his flippers and stood still, with them hanging upwards from him, so that Caspar’s heels were level with the nearest streetlight. “Let go,” said Douglas. “I’ll have to climb in through the kitchen window.”

  “That’s not fair,” said Gwinny. “Suppose you get caught?”

  “I won’t, with luck,” said Douglas. “Go on, let go, before you go heavy too. If we all have to climb in, we’re bound to be caught. Let go, and get up to our window – I left it open.”

  “I’ll come down and open the kitchen window for you, shall I?” Caspar offered.

  “And get me caught? I know you,” said Douglas. “Just get in and get to bed and don’t make any blasted noise for once. Go on.”

  Since he really seemed to mean it, and sounded rather like the Ogre as he said it, Gwinny untwisted her fingers from his anorak and let go. The three of them floated upwards, past the level of the streetlight, and almost as high as the curtained slit of light at the front of their house where Douglas’s open window was.

  “Good luck,” said Gwinny.

  Douglas looked up at them rather contemptuously, as Caspar took the lead and began to trail them towards the window. “Get a move on,” he said.

  It was as well they went when they did. Gwinny went heavy as Caspar put out his hand and grasped the windowsill. With a muffled, whispering struggle, he and Johnny hauled her up and thrust her through the window between the curtains. Johnny went heavy on the windowsill, and Caspar as he reached the table just below the window. They all crouched breathlessly on this table, blinking in the light and looking round a room they had scarcely ever seen before.

  The room was much the same size as Johnny’s and Caspar’s, though it was a different shape. But it seemed far bigger because it was scrupulously tidy. Books were in the bookcase and Douglas’s guitar tidily against the wall. Other things were neatly arranged in a glass-fronted cupboard. Douglas’s bed was unwrinkled. The bed in which Malcolm was asleep was equally free of wrinkles. The only things out of place were the chemistry set open in the middle of the floor, and a great deal of dust everywhere.

  “What’s the matter?” Malcolm demanded pettishly. “Where’s Douglas?”

  They stared round the room and then at one another. The sleeping shape in Malcolm’s bed had not moved, and yet Malcolm’s voice had come from the region of Douglas’s bed, on the opposite side of the room.

  “He went heavy in the road,” Gwinny said to the sleeping hump, wondering if Malcolm was secretly a ventriloquist. “He told us to come in without him.”

  “Oh no!” said Malcolm, and again his voice came from the wrong place. “If you’ve got him caught, I shan’t ever forgive you!”

  There was a shuffling noise from under Douglas’s bed, and Malcolm walked out from underneath it. Their eyes popped. He was about a foot high. All of him was small in proportion, except that perhaps his head was a little too big for his body. He had no clothes on. Instead he was wrapped in a shirt, which he was clutching round him like a cloak, and which trailed behind and around him, making a shiny path on the dusty floor. They could see Malcolm’s tiny hands each grasping a shirt button, and they stared in amazement at his equally tiny toes.

  Malcolm shivered. “At least shut the window, can’t you!” he said, with dignity.

  Johnny, quite overawed, turned round and clapped the window shut. Gwinny looked across at the hump in Malcolm’s bed, rather ashamed. She could see it was only a pillow now.

  “However did you get like that?” said Caspar.

  “In the cause of Science,” Malcolm said haughtily. “Didn’t Douglas tell you? I was much smaller than this at bedtime. It took ages to climb out of my clothes, and then I couldn’t get Douglas to hear me, let alone see me.”

  “But what did you do?” said Johnny. “What did it?”

  “It’s a tube called Parv. pulv.,” said Malcolm, “and I advise you not to fool about with it. It’s rather awful being that small. The grains of dust look as big as footballs. And I kept being blown over in the draught under the door. All I did was sniff it.”

  “Wow!” said Johnny, quite appalled to think that he might have been in the same case any time that week.

  “But what made Douglas have to go into town?” asked Gwinny.

  “To find the antidote, of course,” said Malcolm. “The sets came from a toyshop near Father�
�s office, and we didn’t dare try anything else in case I vanished completely. The old boy was watching telly, and Douglas said he was furious at being disturbed.”

  “But he told you the antidote?” Caspar said.

  “Yes. It’s Magn. pulv.,” said Malcolm. “I thought that was magnesium. But it works – though I seem to be growing awfully slowly,” he complained looking down at his pigmy body with distaste. “What’s Douglas doing?”

  “What will you do if you’re not the right size for school tomorrow?” Gwinny asked, with interest.

  “I don’t know,” Malcolm said crossly. “You tell me.”

  “Perhaps you should have some more of the antidote?” Johnny suggested.

  Malcolm shuddered. “No! I had to eat a whole grain, and it tastes horrible. What’s Douglas doing? How is he going to get in?”

  “But how much did the old man tell you to eat?” Johnny persisted.

  “He didn’t,” said Malcolm. “He just said it was Magn. Pulv. Where’s Douglas?”

  “Then perhaps you should wash in it,” said Gwinny.

  “Climbing in through the kitchen window,” said Caspar.

  “Well!” said Malcolm. “I think the least you could do was go down and open it for him.”

  “He wouldn’t let me,” said Caspar. “I offered. I’m not a complete brute, whatever you think.”

  Malcolm gathered the shirt around him and trailed with dignity towards the door. “Can I trouble you to turn the handle?” he said coldly. “I see I shall have to go down and try to open the darn thing myself.”

  “How can you that size?” Johnny said, climbing off the table. “Don’t be a fool. I’ll go. It had better be me,” he explained to the other two. “The Ogre thinks I’m capable of any crime anyway, and I can always say I was stealing biscuits.”

  Malcolm swung round from the door. “Who are you calling an ogre?”

  “Your flipping father,” said Caspar. “And you know he is, so don’t argue.”

  “I know no such thing,” Malcolm said uncertainly.

  “I’d better go down and see, anyway,” Johnny said. Since Malcolm was in his way, he picked him up, moderately gently, and put him to one side of the door. Malcolm stuttered with indignation, but he was helpless. Johnny opened the door and crept heavily out on to the landing, into the remnant of old chemical smells.

  Before he had reached the head of the stairs, the whole house echoed with a shattering crash. Johnny froze. So did Malcolm in the doorway. Gwinny, who was in the middle of the room with Caspar, covered her ears and held her breath. Caspar, with horrible clarity, remembered the big jug of orange juice which had been on the kitchen windowsill that evening.

  Light was snapped on below. Heavy footsteps hurried. Gwinny and Caspar found themselves out on the landing with Johnny, and Malcolm came scuttling between them.

  There was a long, awful silence. Then the Ogre’s voice was raised in a perfect roar: “You disobedient little devil!”

  After that, the Ogre’s voice rumbled and roared, on and on, for what seemed hours, accusing Douglas of going to the Discotheque when he had been told not to, and of other crimes besides. Caspar, Johnny and Gwinny all felt sick. They did not need Malcolm to say, between chattering teeth, “Now look what you’ve done!” to remind them that it was their fault Douglas was caught like this. And to make matters worse, Douglas plainly could not think what to say. For a long time, there was no sound from him at all. Then his voice was raised in a faint-sounding denial.

  The Ogre shouted, “And don’t give me those lies!” There was the sound of a heavy blow falling. And another. All four on the landing winced each time.

  A door opened downstairs. Sally’s voice said, “Jack! Really—”

  “Will you kindly allow me to deal with this as I think best,” said the Ogre.

  There was no reply. The door shut again. After that, the Ogre roared on again, and there were sounds that suggested Douglas was having to clear up the jug and the orange juice that had been in it. Then there was still more shouting, until they could hardly bear it, which at last died away to a rumble, followed by silence. They sighed. Johnny looked towards Malcolm and found he had grown. His head was now level with Gwinny’s shoulder.

  They all looked anxiously towards the stairs again. They could hear Douglas coming up two at a time. The light came on at their landing, showing Malcolm now nearly Gwinny’s size and looking a little indecent in just a shirt. Then Douglas came galloping upwards with such an expression of fury and misery on his face that Caspar braced himself to run and Gwinny and Johnny backed away.

  Douglas halted on the top stair when he saw the four of them on the landing. “Flaming pustules!” he said. “There’s no privacy in this blessed house!” He turned round and went galloping downstairs again. They heard the bathroom door slam and the bolt go home with a shriek.

  Then the Ogre’s heavy feet began marching up the stairs.

  “Quick!” whispered Caspar to Malcolm. “Don’t let him see you that size!”

  He and Johnny took Malcolm and hurled him into his room, and Malcolm did not protest. Gwinny raced upstairs to her room. Caspar and Johnny fled to theirs, tore off their clothes and dived into bed. When the Ogre arrived in their doorway, they were both between surprisingly cold sheets, breathing as heavily and slowly as they could. The Ogre clicked their light switch, muttered a little when the light would not come on, and went across the landing to see what Malcolm was doing. Whatever he saw there seemed to satisfy him, for he went heavily away downstairs.

  Caspar waited until his bedroom door shut. Then he got up again and put on his pyjamas, closed the window and dug the light bulb out of his coat pocket. When he had succeeded in putting it back in its socket, he discovered, considerably to his surprise, that Johnny was asleep. Casper felt fairly sleepy himself, but he knew he could not possibly go to sleep without a word at least of apology and thanks to Douglas. So he went out and sat on the landing to wait for him.

  He was nine-tenths asleep, with his forehead on his knees, when he heard his mother’s voice on the landing below. “Douglas,” she was saying. “Douglas, please won’t you come out?” Caspar could tell she was just outside the bathroom door. After she had called again several times, he heard Douglas’s voice. He could not hear what Douglas said, but it sounded like a gruff refusal. “Oh, come on, Douglas,” Sally said. “How would it be if I made you some cocoa?” There was a further mutter from Douglas. It sounded less gruff. Caspar was glad. He knew that if it had been him in the bathroom, he would have wanted cocoa, and comfort too.

  But before Sally could speak again, Caspar heard the voice of the Ogre. “Sally, for heaven’s sake come back to bed. I’ll deal with the stupid little fool.” And then he heard the Ogre’s fist pound on the bathroom door. “Douglas,” said the Ogre, “come on out of there and stop behaving like a spoilt baby. If you don’t come out this instant, it’ll be the worse for you when you do.”

  “Look, Jack—” said Sally.

  “Shut up,” said the Ogre. “Did you hear me, Douglas?”

  “Yes, I heard you,” said the muffled, sulky voice of Douglas. The bolt clicked. Caspar heard the door open.

  “Now get to bed,” said the Ogre savagely. “I’ve had about enough of you.”

  Douglas came swiftly upstairs. Caspar, rather nervously stood up. Douglas stopped when he saw him.

  “I wanted to say sorry,” Caspar whispered.

  But Douglas was in no mood for apologies. “You wait!” he said, in a furious low rumble. “I owe you for this. You just wait!”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Although Malcolm was his own size again the next morning, everyone, not surprisingly, was torpid and tired. Johnny staggered from his bed and went to school without really waking up. Both Caspar and Malcolm arrived late and had to stand publicly at the back of Assembly. Douglas left the house when the Ogre and Sally did, which meant that he must have been late also, but since he went to the Senior School, no one knew what had
happened. Gwinny fared best because the Ogre, seeing she was going to be late, took her down to Juniors in his car.

  After school, Johnny as usual managed to get home first. He pelted up to their room and there, in spite of a sudden overwhelming desire to roll on his bed and go to sleep, he doggedly sorted through the crowded and disorderly chemistry box until he had found the two tubes marked Parv. pulv. and Magn. pulv. His idea was to tape them together with sticky tape and then stick a label on them saying DANGER. But once he had them in his hand, it occurred to him to experiment. After all, he had the antidote ready.

  Caspar also sped home, with an understandable desire to be out of sight when Douglas arrived. He reached the door of their room to see Johnny holding the tube to his nose and sniffing raucously. Johnny, hearing him, looked up guiltily.

  “I’m only experimenting,” he said to Caspar’s accusing face. “And I think Malcolm was lying. That was my third sniff.”

  Since the damage seemed to be done, Caspar could only wait. They waited tensely, expecting Johnny to become a Johnny-shaped speck any moment. But nothing happened. In five minutes, Johnny underwent no change at all – except from guilt to annoyance.

  “You see!” he said disgustedly. “You can’t believe a word Malcolm says.”

  “What do you think he did do?” Caspar said.

  They heard Malcolm himself coming upstairs just then, trailing wearily from step to step. They looked at one another and had the same idea at the same moment. Without needing to exchange a word, they got up, crept to the open door, and waited on either side of it out of sight. The moment Malcolm passed the top stair and his shadow fell through the doorway, they darted out and pounced. There was a squalling, indignant struggle, and they got him into their room. Johnny shut the door and stood with his back to it. Caspar took hold of Malcolm and pinned him by the upper arms against the wall.

  “What do you want?” said Malcolm. “Let go, can’t you!”

  “When you come clean,” said Caspar. “What did you really do with Parv. pulv.?”

  “I don’t know. I’m tired. Let go,” said Malcolm.