Carbonel: The King Of Cats

10

The Spell Works

Lunch promised to be rather an alarming meal at first. Rosemary knew that her mother had hers on a tray in the sewing room, but she herself was to join Mrs Pendlebury Parker and John in the great dining room, a huge room with a floor polished like a mirror, and French windows opening on to the terrace. There was an alarming number of knives and forks by her plate, but by watching carefully she managed to use the right ones. Mrs Pendlebury Parker clearly meant to be kind, even if she was not very understanding, and by the time they had started on their pudding, which was a wonderful concoction of fruit and cream, Rosemary had lost her shyness.

‘What an awful lot of washing up there must be here,’ she said as she helped herself to the dish that was handed round to her.

Mrs Pendlebury Parker smiled, and then she gave a little scream.

‘It is my darling cat!’

‘Good gracious! What’s that by your chair?’

Rosemary looked down, and there beside her, covered with dust, sitting sedately with his tail curled round his paws, was Carbonel!

‘It is my darling cat!’ said Rosemary, falling on her knees beside him, her pudding forgotten.

John stood up to see and spilled his glass of water.

‘Really, Lance dear, how careless of you! Ring for Walters and ask her to bring a cloth. But what a clever pussy, and what a lucky girl you are to have such a faithful friend.’

Mrs Pendlebury Parker bent down and stroked Carbonel, who had struggled from his young mistress.

‘He must have walked miles and miles to find you! The dear, faithful Pussicuddlums! Oh, Walters, bring a cloth, please, and mop up this mess. Oh, and I think you had better bring some food for the cat. NOT in darling Popsey Dinkums’ dish, I couldn’t bear that. Popsey Dinkums was my beautiful prize pussy, Rosemary. The purest gold and such wonderful eyes. You can’t think how I miss him since he disappeared four months ago. But this is a most remarkable cat of yours, quite extraordinary!’

Rosemary agreed. ‘Just how extraordinary, you have no idea!’ she thought to herself. Had Carbonel really come in answer to the Summoning Words? She could think of no other reason. It was pleasant to see John’s face with eyes still like saucers. He clearly thought it was due to the spell. Her triumph would have been complete if the cat had been in the least pleased to see her. As it was, he ignored her completely, and was giving Mrs Pendlebury Parker all his attention while she rubbed him behind the ears, talking to him in a kind of baby language that Rosemary privately thought rather silly.

John was automatically eating his pudding, while his round eyes never left Carbonel.

‘I was just wondering what we had better do with him until you go home, dear,’ said Mrs Pendlebury Parker. ‘I don’t think he should be allowed to wander off again.’

‘Perhaps he could stay with Mummy,’ said Rosemary.

‘What a good idea! Now finish up your pudding and then you shall take him along. Lancelot dear, you know where the sewing room is.’

Rosemary would have liked a second helping, but she slipped off her chair and with both arms round Carbonel she set off, with John leading the way with the dish of food. It looked very much like chicken.

The sewing room had once been a school-room. It was cool and pleasant, with two comfortable, battered basket chairs, a big table with a sewing machine and a dressmaker’s dummy that looked exactly like Mrs Pendlebury Parker. Mrs Brown was finishing her lunch.

‘Mummy!’ burst out Rosemary. ‘Here’s Carbonel! He has come all the way from Tottenham Grove to find me. Isn’t he clever? And can he stay with you this afternoon until we go home?’

‘Of course he can, dear!’ Mrs Brown looked anxious. ‘I do hope that Mrs Pendlebury Parker was not annoyed?’

‘Oh no, not a bit. She was very kind, and ordered this gorgeous dinner for him. We had a heavenly pudding. It looked like sand pies with frothy stuff on top, only it didn’t taste like that, of course. Oh, I forgot. This is John.’

John shook hands.

‘Are you sure your aunt was not cross about the cat?’

‘Aunt Amabel is potty about cats, so it didn’t matter a bit. I say, he is walloping down his dinner!’

‘Well, he has certainly earned it. What an extraordinary animal he is. What did you two do this morning?’ asked Mrs Brown.

‘Played,’ said John. ‘Do you know, it’s the first morning I haven’t got into trouble since I’ve been here? I say, I like having Rosemary. Do you think you could ask me to your house one day?’

Mrs Brown smiled ruefully. ‘I’m afraid it isn’t a house, only three rooms. Wouldn’t you find it rather dull?’

‘But I shouldn’t!’ said John. ‘We could cook our own dinner. Rosemary says she often does.’

‘Oh, yes!’ said Rosemary. ‘Do let’s! What would you like for dinner?’

‘Baked beans and sausages,’ said John promptly.

‘Mummy, please!’

Mrs Brown laughed. ‘If it rested with me I should say yes, but it depends on what your aunt thinks about it.’

‘May we ask her, Mummy, please, for tomorrow?’

‘If you like, dear. Now off with you. I must get on with these curtains.’

Outside on the sun-warmed stone seat with the canopy of yellow roses, they sat and talked.

‘You see, if you would let me I could help you find the hat and the cauldron,’ said John. After the first surprise of Carbonel’s appearance he seemed to have accepted the whole story, as unquestioningly as you accept the fact that the world is round, when apparently it is so very flat.

‘That is a good idea,’ said Rosemary. ‘We should find them much more quickly with two people’s brains, and it would be so much more fun. Do let’s go and ask your aunt now!’

‘No good – she will be having a rest. We had better wait till tea time.’

So they played games until tea, with periodical visits to Mrs Brown and Carbonel, and after tea, which was raspberries and cream, and the thinnest bread and butter that Rosemary had ever seen, they tried their luck. Mrs Pendlebury Parker frowned. ‘I don’t think Mrs Brown should have suggested such a thing without consulting me first.’

‘But she didn’t, Aunt Amabel. It was my idea. Mrs Brown said she did not think you would approve, but that, of course, we could if you said yes. Oh, please!’

‘But you two children would be quite alone! I don’t think that would be at all suitable.’

‘We shouldn’t really be alone,’ said Rosemary. ‘At least not more alone than if we were playing in a room here. You see, there is Mrs Walker in the basement, and Mr and Mrs Tonks on the first floor, and the Smithers on the second, and Miss Tidmarsh just below. And we would promise to be sensible!’

‘There are other people in the house, then? That does make a difference, of course. As a matter of fact I have to have lunch with Lady Bermondsey tomorrow, and I was wondering…’

‘And besides,’ said John, ‘Daddy says that you can’t have one-sided hospitality – it isn’t democratic.’

‘So like him,’ said Mrs Parker tartly. ‘But all the same, if you don’t think Mummy would mind…?’

‘Then I may go? Tomorrow? Oh, thank you, Aunt Amabel!’

‘I’ll take great care of him,’ said Rosemary. ‘And thank you for a lovely day!’

Mrs Pendlebury Parker laughed and called to John, who was already half-way out of the door:

‘Lancelot, tell Jeffries that he had better take Mrs Brown and Rosemary home at five o’clock in the car. I don’t see how they could manage with the cat, otherwise.’