‘Buy me! Buy me!’ shouted a corgi puppy.
‘Only ten shillings! Come along, come along!’ called a pair of guinea pigs.
A case of hamsters squeaked, ‘Buy! Buy! Buy!’ and a large, buck rabbit wrinkled its nose in disdain at having to announce that it was going for fifteen and six.
A cockatoo whistled shrilly, ‘All hands to the pump! How de do! How de do! How de do!’ and rocked himself violently from side to side.
‘Very well, thank you!’ said Rosemary politely.
‘Put a sock in it!’ said the cockatoo rudely, and made clicking noises with its tongue.
Rosemary ignored him and searched the cages anxiously for Pergamond. She asked two Siamese cats if they had seen her. They stared insolently, and said something which she could not understand, presumably in Siamese. The few people who were looking at the animals as well, were unlikely to hear her whispered inquiries in the general hubbub.
Next she asked a tortoise. He looked up heavily from a lettuce leaf and said in a slow, deep voice, ‘I don’t know nothing about no kittens. But if it’s tortoise-shell you want, why not have a tortoise in it? Have me!’ And she realized by the curious jerking of its shell that the creature was laughing at what it thought was a joke. Rosemary shook her head.
‘Pity,’ said the tortoise, and went on eating lettuce.
She turned to a cage of white mice. But at the word ‘kitten’ there was a flick of tails and whiskers, and they all disappeared into a round hole in a wooden box at the back of the cage.
‘Polly put the kettle on,’ shrieked the cockatoo, and rattled its beak on the perch.
‘A tortoise-shell kitten!’ yapped a fox terrier puppy. ‘Kittens? Yah! You want a puppy!’ and he turned to bowl over his companion who had nipped him in the leg.
‘But I keep telling you!’ said Rosemary desperately. ‘All I want is a kitten, and you won’t listen!’
For a moment she was alone in the shop.
‘Second from the left, top row!’ said a voice. It was the cockatoo. He was standing motionless, his yellow crest thrust forward. Rosemary went up to his perch. When she first saw him she had thought he was rather like a clown at a circus. Now he looked suddenly very wise and very dignified.
‘If I’d known you were a hearing human I should never have tried that “Polly-put-the-kettle-on” stuff on you. That’s just in the way of business. I must give my public what it wants, you know. They put a tortoise-shell kitten up there in a cage by herself, because of her markings. Quite rare, apparently.’
‘Oh, thank you!’ said Rosemary gratefully and ran to look.
‘Don’t mention it!’ said the cockatoo, and as an old lady with a small boy came in through the bead curtain he shrieked, ‘All hands to the pump! How de do! How de do! How de do!’ to the small boy’s delight.
At the back of the second cage from the left, in the top row, was a small, furry, tortoise-shell ball.
‘Pergamond! It’s me, Rosemary! Do wake up, Pergamond!’
The kitten uncurled herself, and yawned so wide that Rosemary could see the little pink wrinkles on the roof of her mouth.
‘What a long time you’ve been,’ she said sleepily. ‘But I knew you’d come!’ and she got up and rubbed herself against the cage door. Rosemary stroked her with a single finger, which was all she could poke through.
‘How much are you, Pergamond dear?’
‘Six shillings,’ she said proudly.
‘Oh no!’ said Rosemary in dismay. ‘I’ve only got four and elevenpence and an Irish halfpenny!’
‘Well, you can’t expect me to go for tuppence,’ said the kitten grandly. ‘Not rare markings and royalty!’
‘Ssh!’ said Rosemary, looking around nervously. ‘Don’t let anyone know who you are!’
‘Well, I don’t see –’ began Pergamond, and broke off as the corgi puppy next door hurled himself at the dividing wire netting, yapping defiance at all kittens. Undaunted, Pergamond advanced on him, spitting and swearing.
‘Pergamond!’ said Rosemary in a shocked voice. ‘What would Woppit say?’
‘You can’t expect anything else,’ said the cockatoo. ‘A very mixed lot here! They pick up all sorts of expressions. I suppose,’ he went on, sidling toward her, ‘as well as a kitten you wouldn’t be wanting a cockatoo? Thirty pounds and cheap at the price.’
‘Thirty pounds! Why I haven’t even six shillings to buy my kitten. What can I do?’
‘Oh well!’ said the cockatoo, and sighed deeply. Then he went on, ‘You might consult the boss, Bodkin is the name. Not a bad sort as a rule! But you’re out of luck today, he’s got toothache.’
Rosemary returned to the comparative quiet of the shop where a large man in a white overall was selling a guinea pig to a girl. She waited until the girl had gone and then she said, ‘Excuse me, but what do your customers usually do when they find they haven’t got quite enough money to buy something?’
‘Go away until they can get it,’ said Mr Bodkin shortly, and shut the drawer of the till with a snap.
Rosemary had to admit to herself that he was quite right.
20
‘All Hands to the Pump’
Rosemary went back to the cockatoo. He was sitting hunched on his perch with his feathers fluffed out and his eyes closed.
‘Can you think of something I can do?’ she asked him. ‘I must have that particular kitten most specially, and when you aren’t, well, giving your public what it wants, you seem so wise.’
The cockatoo opened his eyes. He seemed not displeased. Then he said, ‘Excuse me!’ sidled to the other end of his perch and made a popping noise like a cork being pulled out, followed by a sound like water coming out of a bottle. All this was for the benefit of a small girl with an elderly woman. Then he sidled back again.
‘So many demands on my time – that’s the worst of being a public figure,’ he said languidly, but keeping a sharp lookout for anyone else who might watch him perform. ‘Now then, your little problem. Let me think.’
His grey wrinkled lids lowered over his bright eyes, and Rosemary was afraid he was asleep. But he suddenly sat up, shrieked, ‘Whoops-a-daisy!’ and hanging from his perch with his black beak, turned a somersault. Then, once more as grave as a professor, he said, ‘I’ve got it, and it will make a very touching performance. Now listen to me. Do you see the fifth link of the chain from the collar on my leg?’ Rosemary looked.
‘It’s very thin,’ she said.
‘Precisely,’ said the bird. ‘It took me six months to do it. Every twenty years or so I plan a little excursion.’
‘You mean you escape?’
‘Bless you, no! I always come back again, but it breaks the monotony. Do you think you could snap that link?’
The only people near were an old man with two children who were choosing a canary. They were far too occupied to notice Rosemary put up her hand to the chain. The link was so thin that it broke with hardly any pressure.
‘I was waiting for a really good audience,’ said the cockatoo, ‘but I’m willing to oblige you this afternoon. You’re not used to these public performances, I dare say, but I’m sure they’ll make allowances. Now, go over there and talk to your kitten. You’d better not be near me. No one must guess it’s a double act, so watch out for the signal.’
Rosemary felt it was no use asking questions, though she would like to have asked what the signal would be. However, she did as she was told. She went across to Pergamond, and had barely explained what had happened to John and Calidor when there was a screech from the cockatoo.
‘Polly put the kettle on!’ he screamed. ‘Oops-a-daisy!’ And with a flutter of wings he left his perch and flew to the top of the highest cage in the shop, noisily clanking his broken chain. With his feathers fluffed up he bowed repeatedly, and demanded from the delighted audience below, ‘How de do? How de do? How de do?’
The animals set up an excited yapping, mewing, barking and twittering. Only the tortoise went on quietly
eating his lettuce. A number of people had come in to see what the laughter was about, and Mr Bodkin poked his head through the bead curtain. When he saw the cockatoo he gasped, and, pushing his way through the crowd, said under his breath, ‘Please to keep quiet – a most valuable bird – no sudden movement please or you may startle it!’ Then, raising a cautious hand, ‘Cockie! Cockie! Good Cockie!’ he said anxiously.
‘Put a sock in it! Put a sock in it!’ said Cockie, and emptied three imaginary bottles in quick succession.
Forgetting Mr Bodkin’s warning, the little knot of people below shouted with laughter, and at the sudden noise the bird fluttered from the top of the cage to the top of the open window which looked over the yard. With yellow crest pushed forward he danced like a boxer waiting for an opening.
‘All hands to the pump!’ he shrieked, and then in his professor voice that only the animals and Rosemary understood, ‘Well, what are you waiting for, girl? Get on with it. Turn right outside the shop and down the alley into the yard, and hurry up about it or someone else will catch me. What do you think I’m doing this for? No feeling for drama, you haven’t!’
Rosemary had forgotten for a moment that she was anything but part of the audience which was rapidly swelling to a small crowd, but she pulled herself together, slipped out of the shop and down the alleyway into the yard. Through the window she was just in time to see Mr Bodkin give a sudden grab at the cockatoo’s dangling chain. With an outraged squawk Cockie flew out into the yard.
He landed on top of a tall, empty crate a few feet away from Rosemary.
‘Perhaps it’s just as well you didn’t buy me,’ he said. ‘I should probably moult in private life. Give me only a small audience and it goes to my head.’
There was the sound of running footsteps coming down the alley. ‘You see how it is? A sought-after public figure – can’t call my life my own!’ he went on in an affected voice.
Mr Bodkin, fired by some idea of climbing through the window, had stuck half way.
‘You there! Catch him! Don’t let him escape!’ he called to Rosemary. ‘Five shillings reward if you’ll only get him!’
Rosemary made a grab and was within an ace of catching the chain, but Cockie whisked it away just in time.
‘Don’t you dare!’ he said, and squawked indignantly as he sidled away from her along the crate.
‘What do you mean?’ asked Rosemary in bewilderment. ‘I thought you wanted me to catch you!’
‘At five shillings? Insulting I call it! Don’t you dare do it until you’ve beaten him up to fifteen shillings at the very least.’
‘Oh dear!’ thought Rosemary. The bird by this time was sitting on the gutter of the outhouse that stood in a corner of the yard, which by this time was full of people. The crowd laughed and chattered and offered advice.
‘Dora!’ called Mr Bodkin to the overalled assistant who was also in the yard. ‘Fetch a ladder!’
Several people went off with her to find one. Cautiously, Cockie clambered first on to the roof, and then up on to the coping which edged the gable end.
Rosemary was already pushing the crate up against the outhouse wall. By climbing on to the top of it, she was level with the gutter at the edge of the roof. ‘I hope to goodness it will hold me,’ she said to herself anxiously.
‘Good girl!’ called Mr Bodkin excitedly. ‘Go carefully, go carefully! Ten shillings if you do it.’
The gutter held as she put her weight on it. Slowly and painfully Rosemary pulled herself up the roof by holding on to the coping stone, but as she advanced, Cockie warily climbed higher. Once she slipped and the crowd below gasped.
‘He said… ten shillings,’ pleaded Rosemary breathlessly. ‘Let me… catch you… Cockie! I could… buy my kitten now!’
‘And what about me?’ said the cockatoo. ‘Ten shillings indeed! I’ve got my pride. Not a penny under fifteen. You’re doing quite nicely. Just keep on, but don’t look down!’
The bird had reached the ridge of the roof by now, and like an actor in the centre of the stage he fluffed out his feathers, bowed repeatedly to the crowd, and while he did a shuffling kind of dance screeched, ‘Polly put the kettle on! All hands to the pump! How de do? How de do? How de do?’ Then he pulled half a dozen corks. The people below laughed and clapped and Cockie bowed again. He was clearly having the time of his life.
Mr Bodkin called anxiously, ‘Take care! Take care! Fifteen shillings if you catch him now!’
It was then that Rosemary made the mistake of looking down. She saw the faces tilted up to watch her and the hard paving stones of the yard a long way below, and for the first time she realized how high she was. Hastily she looked away, but the damage was done. Her knees began to shake and her inside suddenly felt as though it was not there.
‘Cockie! I can’t!’ she said faintly. She could feel her feet slipping slowly on the tiles. She gave a frantic lurch, clutched with both hands, and found that one of them had gripped the ridge of the roof, and the other had caught the cockatoo’s broken chain. The crowd gasped and cheered as though they were at the circus, as, painfully, she pulled herself astride the ridge.
‘Not bad. Not bad at all. I didn’t think you had it in you,’ said Cockie from his perch on her shoulder. Then he bowed to the clapping crowd and screamed, ‘Put a sock in it!’
By this time Dora and her helpers had arrived with the ladder. They pushed it up on to the roof with the bottom end fixed against the gutter, and Rosemary thankfully clambered down. When she reached the edge of the roof, willing hands helped her to the ground. The crowd patted her on the back and told her how brave she was, and Rosemary wished they would go away. Presently they did, and Mr Bodkin and Dora took her into the shop by a side door. They put Cockie back on his perch and they bathed Rosemary’s scraped knees and let her wash her hands, which were quite black. Then Mr Bodkin said, ‘I can’t thank you enough, my dear. You are a very brave girl. Worth his weight in gold to me, that bird. Brings no end of people to the shop. Would you know what to do with a pound note if I gave it to you?’
‘Oh yes!’ said Rosemary. ‘I should buy the tortoise-shell kitten in the cage at the back of the shop.’
Mr Bodkin laughed, but he fetched Pergamond, and because Rosemary’s hands were full of purring, tortoise-shell kitten, he slipped a ten shilling note and two half crowns as well into the pocket of her gingham dress.
‘Take care of the kitten. It’s a good one,’ he said.
‘I will! Oh, I will!’ she answered feelingly. Cockie was sitting on his perch putting his feathers in order.
‘Good-bye!’ she said. ‘And thank you!’
‘Put a sock in it!’ said the bird, but unnoticed by Mr Bodkin one grey eye had come down in an unmistakable wink.
21
Dossy
When Rosemary reached home she took Pergamond straight upstairs.
‘Why, darling, where have you been? I was begining to grow anxious,’ said Mrs Brown.
‘I’ve found one of the kittens, Mother. It’s Pergamond.’
‘Rosie, I’m so glad!’ said her mother.
‘May I keep her upstairs with us, just for the night?’ begged Rosemary. ‘John said he didn’t think he’d be back until tomorrow, and she would be company for me. Besides, I shouldn’t sleep a wink if she was in the greenhouse. You see she was stolen and sold to a pet shop. I found her there!’
Mrs Brown listened with astonishment while Rosemary told her story, leaving out the magic bits and the complimentary remarks of Mr Bodkin and the crowd of people.
‘I’ve got a present for you,’ she ended. ‘A box of peppermint creams.’
‘My favourite!’ said Mrs Brown, and by a lucky chance they were Rosemary’s favourite, too.
‘I’m just going down to tell Woppit about Pergamond,’ she said rather indistinctly, because of course her mother had offered her a peppermint cream.
Mrs Brown laughed. ‘Don’t be long, dear, supper is nearly ready.’
Woppit wa
s sitting brooding in the greenhouse, with her paws tucked in, so that she looked like a rather untidy foot warmer. She had never ceased to reproach herself for the loss of the kittens. When she heard that Pergamond was safe and that at least they knew where Calidor was, she became a different animal. Her purr was like tearing calico, and she rubbed herself against Rosemary’s legs with such force that she nearly knocked her over.
‘So I thought you had better go and tell Queen Blandamour straight away,’ ended Rosemary. ‘Or would you like your supper first?’
‘As if I’d let bite or sup pass my lips,’ said Woppit, ‘before I told Her Majesty the blessed news! Not that I couldn’t fancy something tasty when I get back, mind. A nice bit of liver, minced medium fine, wouldn’t come amiss.’
Rosemary watched the untidy old animal leap to the top of the garden wall with surprising ease, and run along it till she was out of sight. Then she went back to the flat.
‘All the same, I do wish I knew what was happening to John,’ she whispered to Pergamond, who was warming her overfull stomach by the fire, for the evening was chilly.
From the back seat of the car, John had looked through the window behind him at the dwindling figure of Rosemary, as she stood outside the pet shop. She looked rather forlorn standing there by herself on the edge of the pavement, so he waved, until he remembered that she could not see him.
‘It wouldn’t make any difference to her if I stood on my head!’ he said gloomily to himself.
He turned round and studied the backs of the three heads in front of him. There was Dossy’s father with a bowler and a red sort of neck that suggested he was not a very patient sort of person; there was Dossy’s mother with the carefully waved, blue hair under the very fashionable hat; there was Dossy’s own sleek, fair head in between with the kitten on her shoulder. Calidor was looking rather miserably over the back of the seat, unaware that help was so near. Very carefully John put his mouth as near to the kitten as he could and whispered, ‘Cheer up, it’s me, John! I’m in the back of the car. You can’t see me because I’m invisible!’
The Kingdom of Carbonel Page 12
