Jim turned and made for the larder.
‘I must say,’ said Roland, ‘you have him well trained.’
Soon the ratcatcher was back with a tray which he placed carefully before them. For Magnus of course there was a Mars Bar. Roland had a monster carrot. Before Madeleine and Marcus Aurelius, Jim placed a large hunk of Cheddar.
He watched them as they sat upright, the food held between forepaws, nibbling eagerly, their black eyes fixed on him. His Majesty’s mum and dad, he thought. I’d love to know all about him right from the start. If only you could speak.
He grinned at them. ‘Hard cheese,’ he said. ‘It’s only mousetrap.’
‘I think he’s trying to tell us something,’ Madeleine said. ‘What’s he saying, Magnus, d’you know?’
‘I don’t know, Mummy, I’m afraid,’ said Magnus. ‘That’s all the noise humans can make, that rumbling sound. If only they could speak. Compared to animals, their ability to communicate seems rudimentary in the extreme.’
‘Magnus . . . Powermouse!’
‘Mummy?’
‘You’re getting to talk just like your father!’
Marcus Aurelius looked smug through his mouthful of cheese. Roland’s nose twitched madly.
‘Well, anyways,’ said Madeleine, taking another bite, ‘I reckons we’m on to a good thing here. The man may not be able to speak proper but he isn’t going to let us go short. Look at him now!’ For Jim, his own breakfast in the frying-pan, was busy providing a further range of delicacies for his guests.
For the vegetarian Roland there were cabbage leaves, bread, an apple. And for the others biscuits, a handful of corn-flakes, Smarties, bacon rinds.
‘It’s always like this,’ said Magnus, picking up a Petit Beurre. ‘He keeps a good table.’
At last the feast was finished. Jim the Rat had polished off his favourite meal of bacon and eggs and sausages, and bread and honey, and cups and cups of sweet tea made with goats’ milk. Roland lay happily sated, his great ears outspread, his red eyes half closed. The little stomachs of Madeleine and Marcus Aurelius were as round and tight as balloons. And even Magnus had had enough.
‘Crumbs!’ said Madeleine. ‘I can’t eat no more.’
‘I can’t eat any more,’ said Marcus.
‘Not surprised.’
Marcus Aurelius cleared his throat importantly.
‘I shall make a speech of thanks,’ he said. He turned to face Jim.
‘My good fellow,’ he began.
‘Marcus . . . Aurelius!’
‘Yes, Maddie?’
‘You can’t talk to a human like that.’
Marcus Aurelius sighed. ‘My dear Maddie,’ he said in a patient voice, ‘on the one hand there seems no doubt that he is a good fellow, and on the other he cannot understand what I’m saying anyway.’
‘Then why bother to say it?’ murmured Madeleine comfortably.
Magnus intervened. ‘What you want to do,’ he said, ‘is make a fuss of him. Humans like animals to do that, you know, it makes them feel wanted. They’re ever so insecure. Go up to him. Let him stroke you.’
‘Stroke me?’ cried Madeleine and Marcus Aurelius together.
‘Magnus is right,’ said Roland drowsily. ‘Just treat him kindly, and he’ll be so grateful, you’ll be eating out of his hand.’
Marcus Aurelius looked nervously at the fat man who sat watching him with eyes the colour of the bottom of a duck-pond.
‘I am apprehensive,’ said Marcus Aurelius in a low voice, ‘very apprehensive.’ He paused. ‘Very apprehensive indeed,’ he said.
‘Well, I wish I was, then,’ whispered Madeleine. ‘You’re lucky. I’m just scared.’
Marcus Aurelius looked at his misunderstanding little wife whose love he so valued, at the great white rabbit whose friendship he so esteemed, and at his giant son whose strength and courage he so much admired. He took a deep breath and squared his thin shoulders, and then he limped forward towards Jim the Rat.
And behind him, trembling but ever loyal, came Madeleine.
As Magnus and his Uncle Roland watched, Jim put out a hand to each, very slowly, and touched the grey back and the brown back, very softly, and stroked them, very gently, very tenderly.
‘You know, Uncle Roland,’ said Magnus Powermouse, ‘I shouldn’t be surprised if we didn’t all live happily ever after.’
SEVENTEEN
Tailpiece
And so they did.
Jim the Rat gave up ratcatching. He offered his clients a variety of reasons for his retirement. ‘Getting near the pension anyway’ – which was true, ‘The old van’s on its last legs’ – which was true, or ‘Just fancy staying at home all day’ – which was also true. He gave no one the real reason, which was that he simply could not keep the King Mouse and his parents as pets, no, more than pets, as friends, and at the same time spend his life slaughtering their brothers and sisters and cousins.
Roland took up marriage. Jim just happened to come across such a pretty doe rabbit one market-day – such a long soft coat she had, as blue as woodsmoke among the trees – and so the uncle of many nephews and nieces soon became the proud father of many sons and daughters; some were blue and some were white, some had prick-ears and some had lop-ears; all grew up happily with their dad’s great friends, the giant mouse and his parents.
Madeleine and Marcus Aurelius lived a life of luxury. Jim built them a beautiful new house, a cage it was really but they never thought of it like that since they were always free to go out if they wished. (Strangely enough, Jim’s three cats never again came into the kitchen.) Once in a while, for old times’ sake or if it was specially cold, they would spend a night with old Uncle Roland, warm under their velvety bedspreads. Fortunately, Jim gave them newspaper as nesting material so that Marcus always had plenty of interesting reading matter. Madeleine, relieved of the ceaseless search for food and the constant threat of danger that had been her lot, grew comfortably stout. Magnus, surprisingly, did not grow any more. Maybe it was that bang on the head or maybe he would have stopped anyway, but he became no bigger.
What he did become – and this must have been the bang – was extremely wordy. The newfound art of conversation became a great joy to him, and he and Marcus Aurelius would chatter away till all hours, putting the world to rights. Sometimes they would have an evening at Uncle Roland’s house and his deep voice would be heard, trying to get a word in edgeways.
And there was a time when Madeleine, sitting and listening to the ceaseless flow of talk, felt just a little bit left out; maybe because, as usual, she did not understand half of what they were saying; maybe because she was chewing on a pale-coloured Smartie which suddenly reminded her of a Pennyfeather’s Patent Porker Pill and those long-ago days when Magnus was a baby and helpless and could not string two words together.
And suddenly Magnus knew exactly what she was feeling, and left the others, and came over to her, and gently touched her little nose with his big one.
‘Nice Mummy!’ said Magnus Powermouse softly.
‘Oh, my baby!’ said Madeleine. ‘There won’t never be another like you.’
THE BEGINNING
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ublished by Victor Gollancz Ltd 1982
Published in Puffin Books 1984
Published in Puffin Books 2005
Text copyright © Fox Busters Ltd, 1982
Illustrations copyright © Ann Kronheimer, 2005
All rights reserved
The moral right of the author and illustrator has been asserted
ISBN: 978-0-241-42146-8
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