At once the punt began to move, not very fast, it is true, and certainly not fast enough to explain the curious splashing in its wake. The two girls sat up, still and silent, as it glided on, but the minute the Swallow touched the steps they leaped out. Dossy raced up the sloping grass to the house faster than she had ever run before. John heard her diminishing cries of ‘Mummy! Mummy!’ as she disappeared. Milly followed more slowly.
When they had gone, he tied up the punt, climbed wearily up the steps on to the terrace and flung himself on the ground.
23
Milly
For a few minutes John lay panting on the flagstones. They were still warm, although the sun was no longer shining on them. It had been hard work heaving two well-grown girls out of the water, and pushing the punt back to its moorings immediately afterward had taken all his strength. Suddenly he felt a small rasping tongue lick his cheek. It was Calidor. The kitten could see where John lay by the shape of the rapidly growing puddle beneath him.
‘You must have got your paws wet!’ said Calidor sympathetically.
‘Hello, Calidor!’ said John, opening his eyes. ‘Have they left you behind?’
Calidor sniffed.
‘One minute they can’t leave me alone, and the next I might be an old punt cushion for all they care about me!’
John sat up.
‘What a stroke of luck!’ he said. ‘Now’s our chance to get away. But talking of punt cushions, I suppose it was all my fault. I think I ought to salvage what I can before we go. I can’t get much wetter.’
Calidor watched with interest the growing chain of wet footmarks – the only sign of John’s progress back to the edge of the lake. He listened to the splash of John’s dive, and then turned his attention to washing his ruffled black coat.
It took John longer than he expected to collect the floating properties of the royal barge. One of the cushions had foundered, and he had to give up his search, but three others, the chair and King Solomon’s turban he left to dry on the terrace. Then he went into the boathouse to look for a towel with which to dry himself as much as possible before starting home. He felt very tired, rather cold in his wet clothes and extremely hungry, but the knowledge that Calidor was as good as recovered made it all worth while. He was in the boathouse giving himself a hard rub down and wondering how on earth they were going to get back to Fallowhithe, when Calidor, who was sitting beside him, suddenly said, ‘Look out! Here’s one of ’em back again!’
It was Milly, wearing one of Dossy’s old frocks. It looked uncomfortably tight.
‘Pussy!’ she called. ‘Puss! puss! puss!’
Calidor backed into a corner of the boathouse, but the movement attracted her attention.
‘Oh, there you are! Come along, pusskin!’
She advanced toward the kitten with her hand held out, and, I am sorry to say, Calidor spat. Milly laughed and knelt down so that he was penned into the corner.
‘It’s no good being cross, because you’re mine now, darling! Dossy says she’s tired of you. Come along. Mr Dawson is waiting to take us home. Everybody is so cross already that I don’t think we’d better keep him waiting!’
She picked up Calidor.
‘Help!’ he mewed. ‘Help, help!’
John’s heart sank. To be on the brink of success only to find the kitten being carried off by another owner!
Milly was leaving the boathouse with the kitten in her arms. There was no time to think of any plan.
‘Milly!’ called John in desperation. ‘Don’t go!’
She turned around in surprise. Standing outside in the bright summer evening she could see nothing but shadows inside the boathouse, so that the fact she could not distinguish the speaker did not surprise her.
‘Who’s there?’ she asked.
‘John, but you wouldn’t know me. I want your help. No, don’t come in. I, I’ve got no clothes on. I’m drying. I’ve just fished all the cushions and the chair out of the lake.’
‘Gosh, thanks awfully!’ said Milly.
‘I’ve hung King Solomon’s turban on the stone seat to dry.’
‘How do you know about King Solomon?’ asked Milly curiously.
‘Because I was in the royal barge as well, when Dossy was being the Queen of Sheba. It was me that pushed off,’ he went on, regardless of grammar. ‘I’m sorry about that. But I did heave you both back into the punt again, and bring it back to the steps.’
Milly opened her eyes very wide. ‘Then it wasn’t my pretending come true! Thank goodness! It was horrible thinking that every time I said “Let’s pretend”, it would really happen. You can’t think how bothered I’ve been. But look here, you couldn’t have done it. I should have seen you!’
‘That’s the trouble,’ said John. ‘Now don’t go having hysterics or anything, but I’m invisible.’
‘Not really!’ said Milly with deep interest. She peered into the boathouse, but she could see nobody there. ‘You’re hiding!’ she said at last.
‘No, I’m not!’ said a voice in the empty air beside her.
Milly jumped so violently that she dropped Calidor.
‘You’ll soon get used to the idea,’ said the voice, this time from the other side. ‘It’s the kitten I’ve come for. He really belongs to me and my friend Rosemary. Someone stole him and sold him to a pet shop, and when Dossy bought him I got in the car and came with them. If you don’t believe I’m invisible, look at the kitten. I’m going to pick him up.’
Milly watched enthralled while Calidor rose gently in the air, his furry body hanging limply, as it might over a lifting hand. She rubbed her eyes.
‘It’s no good. I don’t know what’s pretend and what isn’t. Anything could happen this afternoon. I almost think I do believe you. You said you wanted me to help you. What shall I do?’
‘Give me the kitten!’ said John.
‘Is that all!’ said Milly with relief. ‘As a matter of fact I’d be rather glad. When Dossy said would I like him, I quite forgot Mother said she couldn’t put up with one single more pet. The boys and I have so many, and I was wondering what she’d say when I turned up with this one. Besides, you did save us both this afternoon. But look here. Mr Dawson is taking me home in the car. I live at Fiddleworth. Daddy is rector of St Mary’s Church.
‘You will have to come in the car with us and as soon as Mr Dawson has gone I’ll hand the kitten over again.’
They walked back up the sloping lawn, Calidor purring happily and thrusting the top of his small, sleek head against John’s chin.
‘What’s happened to Dossy?’ asked John.
‘Bed,’ said Milly shortly, ‘with hot water bottles and aspirins. She was still moaning when I left.’
‘Were they very angry?’
‘Mrs Dawson was, especially about the new dress. Mr Dawson was wonderful. He laughed, and said we had overdone it a bit this time, but that Dossy needed a bit of shaking up. All the same, I don’t think I shall be asked to play again somehow.’
John was inclined to agree.
24
The Counter-Spell
It must have been about midnight when Rosemary was woken up by someone shaking her shoulder.
‘Wake up, Rosie!’ whispered an urgent voice. ‘Wake up!’
She struggled sleepily out of the ball in which she always curled herself when she went to sleep, and sat up, suddenly wide awake.
‘John, is it you? Have you got Calidor?’
‘I’ve got him right enough,’ said John, and a furry, purring pressure against her side confirmed it.
‘Oh, Calidor, I’m so glad!’
She picked up the kitten and hugged him. ‘Now we’ve got you both safely back, and we needn’t worry about you any more!’
‘Well, you can just start worrying about me instead!’ said John, and he made the unmistakable noise of someone trying to suppress a heavy sneeze.
‘I’ve got an awful cold, through going about in soaking clothes. I’ll tell you all about it la
ter. I don’t want to be invisible for one minute longer. We’ve got to work out the counter-spell – now! If I’m going to be ill, how on earth can a doctor sound my chest if he can’t see it?’ he went on gloomily.
Rosemary jumped out of bed with the kitten in her arms.
‘As a matter of fact, I got all the things ready just in case,’ she said as she laid Calidor gently down in the box at the foot of her bed, where Pergamond lay sleeping. ‘I had to do something to keep myself from worrying about you. It’s all under the bed.’
The white shape that was Rosemary’s nightgown went on its knees by the bed and dragged something out from beneath. When John switched on the light, he saw it was a large tin tray. In the centre was one acid drop, an empty eggshell and a candle end. At least that was all that Rosemary could see. John could also see the book of magic and the saucepan that had held the invisible mixture.
‘Good old Rosie!’ said John.
‘I cleaned the saucepan as best I could with wire wool,’ went on Rosemary. ‘You’d better check up on everything from the book because of course I couldn’t read it. I think it would be all right to brew it in the kitchen – Mother’s room is at the other end of the passage. I don’t think she’d hear.’
They crept into the kitchen and put the tray on the table.
Rosemary heard the sound of pages being hastily turned.
‘Here we are! “Counter-spell of Invisibility”,’ he read. ‘Now then,’ he went on in a preoccupied voice, ‘it says, “the moon must be on the wane”. Well, that’s all right, I noticed when I was coming home. And it must be done in the original saucepan. That’s all right, too. Now then, “Put in the saucepan or pipkin seven eggshells full of water, so clear that it doth appear not to be there.” You couldn’t have anything much clearer than Fallowhithe District Council’s tap water, so here goes!’
Rosemary watched while apparently unaided the eggshell filled itself seven times from the tap over the sink, and seven times emptied itself into what she guessed must be the invisible saucepan.
‘“And in it place some transparent substance that by boiling will consume itself,”’ he read. ‘Is that what the acid drop is for?’
‘It’s nearly transparent, and it will melt when the water boils,’ said Rosemary and dropped it in the water.
‘“Then, by the light of a dwindled candle –”’ went on John.
Rosemary stood the candle end in a saucer which she put on the plate rack above the cooker, and lit it with a match.
‘If it goes on dwindling too quickly I shan’t be able to see to read the incantation, so hurry up and light the gas under the saucepan.’
There was a plop as the ring of blue gas jets shot out, and curled around the bottom of the saucepan.
‘Here’s a spoon to stir it with,’ said Rosemary. ‘I looked up “widdershins” in the dictionary and it said it meant counterclockwise.’ She tactfully did not point out that that was what she had said in their unfortunate argument that morning.
John turned off the light, and at once the trim little kitchen was filled with the dark, wavering shadows cast by the candle flame. Already they could see by a ring of bubbles that the water was beginning to boil. Then the acid drop began to leap and bounce on the bottom of the pan. The water boiled furiously, and as it boiled it began to evaporate, and the dancing acid drop grew smaller and smaller and smaller. John watched, fascinated.
‘Go on! Stir, and intone the incantation!’ said Rosemary.
It is not easy to stir a saucepan widdershins and read aloud from cramped, old-fashioned writing by the light of a guttering candle end, but John managed somehow. This is what he intoned:
‘Vapours curdle and congeal,
Shadows thicken and reveal
Solid shapes to see and feel!
Hocus pocus
Into focus,
Invisibility – repeal!’
As he said the word ‘repeal’ the spoon twisted itself from his hand and fell with a clatter to the floor; the last drop of moisture dried up in the pan with a sizzle, and by the light of the candle, which suddenly flared up, Rosemary saw a strange sight. She was standing staring where she knew John must be, in front of the cooker, between herself and the kitchen dresser. And as the candle flared up she saw a pale, shadowy form begin to appear. She could see through it the knobs on the dresser drawer and the cups hanging on their hooks, but as she watched, the cups and the knobs grew fainter and fainter and the shape of John more solid. Then the candle went out as suddenly as it had flared up.
‘Put the light on, Rosie!’ said John in a matter-of-fact voice.
She rushed to the switch, and as the prosaic light from the hanging bulb flooded the little kitchen, she saw John standing there, firm, untransparent, hair on end and dirtier than she had ever seen him, but visible.
‘Am I all right again?’ he asked anxiously.
‘Right as rain!’ said Rosemary beaming from ear to ear, and she seized his nearest hand and shook it up and down like a pump handle to show how pleased she was.
A sudden smell of burning sugar made them look around. The gas was full on under the empty saucepan, which was now visible for anyone to see. So was the book which John had propped up against the kettle behind the lighted ring. Whether the change to visibility had affected its balance, I do not know, but it had fallen forward on its face, with the blue flame of the lighted ring licking at one corner; already the ancient paper, dry as tinder, was well alight.
‘Quick, put it in the sink and turn the tap on it!’ said Rosemary.
John picked up the book and rushed across to the sink, and as he ran, the wind of his going fanned the flames so that they streamed behind him. Twisting red, green and purple flames sent out a shower of many coloured sparks, and though the sparks fell on John’s face and hands, he did not feel them. Rosemary had already run to the sink where she had put in the plug and turned both taps full on. As the book fell in the water with a hiss, a column of jagged purple flame shot up to the ceiling and went out, leaving nothing behind but a little plume of oily, evil-smelling smoke.
‘What queer-looking flames!’ said Rosemary.
‘Well, it was a queer sort of book!’ said John.
The charred remains of the book bobbed sluggishly up and down in the sink. He lifted it out gingerly.
‘The cover isn’t too bad,’ said Rosemary hopefully. ‘But I don’t think anyone will be able to read what is left of the inside.’
‘I’m glad it’s Miss Dibdin who has to take it back to the reference library, and not me!’ said John. ‘I suppose we’d better keep all there is of it.’
They fished out all they could, and drained it as well as they were able in a colander.
‘It can go under my bed till the morning,’ said Rosemary. ‘But John, I do so want to hear all your adventures!’
John stifled a noise that was half a yawn and half a sneeze. ‘All I want is to go to bed and sleep and sleep. I’ll tell you about it in the morning. It’s been quite a day!’
25
The Green Mixture
Rosemary woke early next morning. She tiptoed into John’s room and shook him gently but quite firmly.
‘Wake up!’ she said. ‘I’m simply dying to hear about your adventures, and how you rescued Calidor!’
A flushed and tousled John told his story, and Rosemary listened with admiration. ‘I got a ride in a lorry back from Fiddleworth,’ he ended. ‘All the same,’ he went on crossly, ‘why couldn’t you let me have my sleep out in peace?’
‘Because if Mother finds you’ve been having your sleep out in peace in your own bed here, when you are supposed to be staying with your Aunt Annabel, there will have to be some pretty awkward explanations!’ said Rosemary, and John had to agree.
They decided that the best plan would be for him to get dressed straight away, go down to the greenhouse and tell Woppit what had happened. Queen Blandamour could then be told as soon as possible that Calidor, too, was safe.
&nbs
p; ‘You had better hide in the Green Cave until after breakfast, and then come and knock on the front door as though you’ve just arrived,’ said Rosemary.
‘All right,’ said John. ‘It couldn’t be before breakfast, could it?’ he asked wistfully.
‘It couldn’t,’ said Rosemary firmly. ‘That would look very suspicious.’
She left John to his dressing and went to make her mother an early morning cup of tea, because she felt uncomfortable about not telling her what had really happened. Magic was like that, she thought regretfully. Luckily Mrs Brown accepted the fact that Calidor had come back without any awkward questions, and she was delighted to see John again when he politely rang the bell when they were washing the breakfast things.
‘But my dear boy, what a dreadful cold you’ve caught!’ she said when he sneezed violently.
‘I fell id sub water and got awfully wet yesterday. I expect that’s what caused it,’ said John.
She felt his hot forehead.
‘Hm, bed is the best place for you, my dear,’ and to Rosemary’s surprise, he seemed quite glad to go.
When he was tucked up with a hot water bottle, Mrs Brown said, ‘Rosie, you had better get some of that special cold cure from Hedgem and Fudge. It’s wonderful stuff. I must get down to the sewing room now. When these Julius Caesar clothes are done I shan’t be so busy. I can’t think how the Romans managed without sewing machines.’
‘I can go and talk to John, can’t I?’ asked Rosemary anxiously. ‘It’s a wet-feet kind of cold, not a catching one.’
Her mother smiled. ‘All right, darling. Dinner at half past one. You might peel some potatoes before you go.’
When her mother had gone, Rosemary found John some breakfast. First he had some cornflakes while she cooked him some porridge. Then she boiled him two of the largest, brownest eggs in the larder and he finished off with six pieces of toast and marmalade. While he ate she sat beside him and peeled the potatoes on a tray across her knees. When the last crumb had disappeared, John gave a great satisfied sigh and wiggled his toes under the bedclothes, to the delight of the kittens.
The Kingdom of Carbonel Page 14
