Carbonel and Calidor

13. ‘Clumping As Ever’

IF you have ever tried to hurry, wearing Wellington boots filled with earth, mixed with as many pebbles as there are currants in a plum pudding, you will understand why John and Rosemary made such slow progress on their way home.

There had been no time to balance the extra weight in John’s pockets evenly, so that he walked in a slightly lopsided way, bent uncomfortably at the knees: but he did not dare to leave any of the extra weight behind. Away from the shelter of the station there was quite a strong breeze.

When Rosemary suggested, as tactfully as she could, that perhaps it would be better to go home the long way, round the village, so that they should attract as little attention as possible, he replied with some heat: ‘I don’t care how silly I look, I’m not walking one step further than I’ve got to. My feet are killing me!’ So that was that.

As it happened, there were not many people about when they reached the village, and apart from two girls, who giggled and whispered behind their hands, and an old woman, who shook her head pityingly, they reached home without comment.

Never had they been so thankful to turn in to Uncle Zack’s gate.

‘I can’t wear gum-boots and a mac indoors,’ said John anxiously. ‘The pockets in my jeans are too small to hold anything. I don’t suppose Uncle Zack would notice, but Mrs Bodkin doesn’t miss a thing. I bet she’d spot the brickends, and make me turn my pockets out. Do you think if I ate an enormous dinner that would hold me down?’

‘If you ate the weight of two brick-ends, I should think even Uncle Zack would notice,’ said Rosemary. ‘I tell you what. Supposing you make some excuse to go straight to bed? You’d be safe from draughts if I piled my bed-clothes on top of yours, and tucked them well in all round. We’re terribly late. The Post Office clock said half past three, so we’ve missed dinner, and it’s nearly tea time.’

‘Help!’ said John. ‘I’m starving!’

Mrs Bodkin’s crossness at their late return evaporated as soon as John asked if he could go to bed. ‘I’ve got a splitting head-ache,’ he said, which was perfectly true.

‘Go to bed?’ repeated Mrs Bodkin. ‘I hope to goodness you aren’t sickening for something! But it’s the best place if you’re feeling poorly. You go straight upstairs, and I’ll come up presently and take your temperature.’

Getting undressed and between the sheets presented a good deal of difficulty; but with John clutching the bed-post with both hands, and Rosemary peeling off most of his clothes, it was managed at last. Rosemary tucked him hurriedly in and went to fetch her own blankets for extra weight. She was just returning with her arms full, when a gust of wind made a downstairs door slam, and she remembered she had forgotten to close John’s bedroom door behind her. She hurried in, only to find that the window opposite was open too, and John, with bed-clothes still trailing, had wafted halfway up to the ceiling. ‘Shut the door!’ he yelled. ‘There’s a through draught!’

Rosemary dropped the bundle she was carrying, banged the door to behind her, dashed to the window, slammed it shut and latched it securely. There was a ‘flump’ behind her, and she turned to find John once more lying on his bed. With no draught the blankets were heavy enough to bring him down again.

‘You’d only tucked the blankets in properly one side,’ he said faintly. He lay, eyes closed, looking rather white. ‘I can’t take much more of this,’ he said. His eyes, when he opened them again, looked so worried that Rosemary put her hand over one of his which clutched the slipping blanket. He didn’t seem to mind.

‘You won’t have to,’ she said. ‘It won’t be long till morning. It’s all my fault for making that idiotic wish. Of course, I didn’t really mean it to happen. It was just one of those silly things you say sometimes.’

‘I know,’ said John. ‘I’m sorry if I’ve been bad-tempered. But you can’t think how beastly this is all being. It was clever of you, the way you got me down from the roof — in the station, I mean. And thinking of the brick-ends and things. You’d better put those extra blankets on top of me, and tuck them well in on both sides this time.’

Ten minutes later Mrs Bodkin came in with a tray.

‘Temperature first, tea after,’ she said briskly, and while John’s mouth was firmly closed round the thermometer, watch in hand, she looked round the room. ‘Well! I never saw such a mess! Dirt and stones all over the place! What on earth have you been up to?’

‘I’m awfully sorry,’ said Rosemary. ‘It was a ... a game we’ve been playing. I’ll clear it up, every bit. I promise.’

‘You’re a bit big for mud pies, aren’t you?’

Mrs Bodkin picked up John’s clothes which were scattered about the floor. ‘And look at your trousers and your sweater! Filthy, they are! And your things aren’t much better,’ she added as she caught sight of Rosemary. ‘Clean clothes for both of you in the morning, and don’t you forget it!’

She peered at the thermometer through narrowed eyes, holding it now near, now far. ‘Normal!’ she said at last. ‘That’s a good thing! Is your throat sore? No? Then you’ll do. I’ve brought you a pot of tea. More than you deserve, coming home at all hours! There’s some ham sandwiches and a few of those left-over rock cakes for you, Rosie; but I’ve put a nice dry biscuit for young John. Just in case,’ she added mysteriously. ‘We don’t want to take any risks, do we? He looks a bit flushed, doesn’t he?’

‘Flushed?’ growled John, when she had gone downstairs again. ‘She’d look flushed with seven blankets and two eiderdowns tucked in on top of her. I’m simply sweltering! And one “nice dry biscuit” when I’m starving!’

In the end, of course, they shared the ham sandwiches and rock cakes between them. Dumpsie was curled up at the foot of the bed, a small purring ball. Doing something so ordinary and everyday as pouring tea, and stirring in milk and sugar with the shared kitchen spoon, began to work its own gentle kind of magic, and they both began to feel better. They even got a bit giggly.

‘You’ve still got that beastly ring?’ asked John suddenly. Rosemary nodded. She felt in her pocket and held out the Golden Gew-Gaw in the palm of her hand. ‘Then for goodness’ sake, put it back in the box before you go making another crazy wish. When Dumpsie wakes up, we shall have to explain why we can’t hear her. She’ll have to invent a sign to make if she wants to speak to us.’

‘I don’t see why it should always be you in charge of the ring,’ said Rosemary.

‘Because, you twit, I’m the one who always has a pocket to put it in.’

‘I suppose so,’ said Rosemary reluctantly.

‘You can keep the paper hat if you like,’ said John.

‘All right,’ said Rosemary. She had just returned the box to John’s trouser pocket, when Uncle Zack came in.

‘Hallo, old chap! Mrs Bodkin tells me you aren’t feeling very well.’ He lowered his long body into the small chair by the bed. ‘I’m afraid I’m being rather a neglectful uncle, and leaving you both on your own most of the time; but I’ve had rather a lot of bothersome business to see to. I do hope you aren’t being bored?’

‘Bored? Good heavens, no!’ said John.

‘We’ve been much too busy,’ said Rosemary.

‘That’s a good thing,’ said Uncle Zack. ‘What have you been doing with yourselves?’

‘Oh, this and that,’ said John cautiously.

‘Exploring the old railway station mostly,’ said Rosemary. John, who was out of nudging distance, gave her a warning glance.

‘Well, I suppose there’s no harm in that, as long as you don’t do any damage,’ said Uncle Zack. They both thought guiltily of the broken glass roof. ‘Pity you aren’t well,’ he went on. ‘I’ve got to go to Broomhurst tomorrow to see my solicitor, and I’d planned an expedition for all three of us. I shall shut up shop. We might have gone to the pictures, when I’ve done my business, which won’t take long. There’s a good Western on, and Mr Sprules wanted us to go and have tea with him in his shop afterwards. I thought Mrs Bodkin would be glad to be rid of us so that she can get on with the cooking for the Sale on Saturday.’

‘I’m sure I shall be all right by the morning,’ said John eagerly, beginning to sit up. Catching sight of Rosemary’s warning head-shake, he hurriedly slid under the pile of bed-clothes again.

‘Well, we shall have to see how you are,’ said Uncle Zack.

‘Bother!’ said John later. ‘We ought to be spending tomorrow searching Tucket Towers for Carbonel. But I don’t see how we can say we won’t go to Broomhurst with Uncle Zack, unless I pretend I’ve still got a head-ache; and then Mother Boddles won’t let me go out.’

‘I think I should rather like a day off from all this magic business,’ said Rosemary, with which John rather shamefacedly agreed.

Rosemary woke early next morning. It had been an uncomfortable night. She jumped out of bed at once and ran into John’s room. He was fast asleep, but stirred when she tripped over the untidy pile of extra blankets straggling over the floor by his bed.

‘John! John!’ she said urgently. ‘How are you?’

He gave a tremendous yawn.

‘What do you mean, how am I?’ he said sleepily; then suddenly remembering the happenings of the day before, he opened his eyes wide. ‘Shut the door, just in case, and I’ll see.’

Very cautiously he climbed out of bed ... and to Rosemary’s enormous relief stood squarely on the floor. A slow smile spread over his face. He jumped a few inches off the ground, and came down with a heartening thud; then he jumped half a dozen times, higher and higher, just for the pleasure of feeling himself come down again.

Dumpsie uncurled herself for a moment to watch. ‘Clumping as ever!’ she said, then she tucked her nose under her tail and went to sleep again.

‘Thank goodness!’ said Rosemary. ‘Help me take my bed-clothes back. We don’t want Mother Boddles finding them here and asking questions. We’d better get dressed. Clean things, remember.’

‘You’re dressed already,’ said John. ‘Why did you put that dirty old pullover on again?’

‘I haven’t put anything on,’ said Rosemary, who might be forgiven for being a bit snappish. ‘I didn’t take anything off last night, because you’ve got all my bed-clothes. I put my coat on top of me, and the hearth-rug because I was cold; but they kept slipping, and my feet stuck out.’

‘I say,’ said John. ‘What a pig I am! I just never thought of you not having any blankets. It was decent of you. I am grateful. Truly I am and I’ll never call you a silly twit again.’

‘That’s all right,’ said Rosemary. ‘I’m going to put on my best dress,’ she went on. ‘We’re going to Broomhurst with Uncle Zack. Remember? At least, I suppose they’ll think you’re well enough.’

John came down to breakfast looking so spruce and healthy, with his cheeks well scrubbed, and hair actually lying flat, that there was little difficulty in persuading his uncle that he was quite recovered. Mrs Bodkin was not convinced so easily. She took his temperature again, and on examining his chest seemed almost disappointed to find no spots; but at last she agreed that he was well enough for the day’s expedition.

‘You never know with children,’ she said to Uncle Zack. ‘Up one minute and down the next!’ which in John’s case had been only too true.