Carbonel: The King Of Cats

17

The Wishing Magic

In a few minutes Carbonel was back again, looking very pleased with himself.

‘It’s all right. I’ve persuaded it to do just one Wishing Magic to oblige. It’s a bit risky on account of the poor thing really being a bit past it, what with the Pot Mender, and so on. But it will do what it can.’

‘How exciting!’ said John. ‘What do we do?’

‘Well, wishing spells are Rainbow Magic. But, of course, you know that?’

John and Rosemary both shook their heads. ‘You don’t? Good gracious! That’s how the story began that there is a pot of gold at the foot of the rainbow, simply because gold is what so many people wish for. The whole tale is just superstition, but that is how it started. Well, of course we must make a Rainbow Brew. Can you do that, do you think?’

Again Rosemary shook her head. ‘But I’ll do anything you tell me to!’

‘I can’t think what they teach you at school,’ said the cat severely. ‘Every Witch’s Kitten knows how to do that. You mix seven liquids of the seven colours of the rainbow. It doesn’t much matter what, so long as the colours are right. That is why they let the kittens do it. And then, when it’s nicely simmering, you say the Wishing Words… if only I can remember them. I’ve heard HER say them often enough.’

Carbonel sat down with his tail neatly curled round his paws and closed his eyes.

‘Oh, don’t go to sleep now,’ said John, dancing with impatience. The cat opened his eyes very wide.

‘Who’s going to sleep? Do you imagine that every time a cat closes its eyes that it is sleeping? That’s when we think our deepest thoughts. Besides, how else can I concentrate, with you jigging up and down like a bobbin on a string? I think I can remember the Words all right. Now where can we do it? We can’t do even the most elementary magic in the middle of the High Street in comfort.’

‘When I was in the kitchen, I think I saw a sort of wash house place across the yard outside the window. Would that do?’ asked Rosemary. ‘I expect this passage leads into the yard.’

They went to look, and sure enough, there were some neglected-looking out-buildings.

‘I’ll go and get the cauldron,’ said John. ‘I hope to goodness no one sees me. Lucky thing it’s just by the door. Rosie, you had better go and buy the rainbow things. I don’t think I should be much good at that. We must keep our fares home, but you had better take the rest of my money.’

‘What colours must I get?’ asked Rosemary.

‘The colours of the rainbow, of course,’ said Carbonel. ‘Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet. Meet us in the wash house as soon as you can.’ And he and John hurried down the passage.

They found that the wash house was a derelict building, with the sky showing through the slates here and there. There was a broken chair and some odd pots and pans and a copper in one corner. Beneath the small-paned window was an old sink with a tap and, better still, on the draining board was an ancient gas ring attached to a snake-like pipe.

‘We’re in luck, my boy!’ said Carbonel. ‘Every modern convenience. The thing is, have you got any matches?’

John went rather red, because he was not supposed to carry matches about, and he had to admit that he had one of those cardboard books. It had a portrait of a famous cricketer on the flap. He had meant to tear off the portrait and leave the matches behind, but somehow he had not.

‘See if the tap works!’ said Carbonel.

It worked all right. In fact, water spurted out of all sorts of unexpected places when it was turned on. They stood the gas ring on the sink, among the dust and bits of plaster, and put the half-filled cauldron over it. Then they lit the gas. It made an alarming ‘pop’, but by the time a breathless Rosemary had returned with a large paper bag the water was beginning to boil.

‘I’ve got them!’ she said triumphantly. ‘I hope they will do!’ and she tipped the things out into the sink. ‘I’ve got lemonade powder for yellow, a packet of orange dye, a blue bag, a little bottle of green setting lotion (I got that cheap because the cap is cracked), some methylated spirits, and a bottle of indigo ink. I couldn’t get all packets of dye because I hadn’t enough money. Oh, and the woman in the shop let me have a pennyworth of hundreds and thousands. I thought we could add those as a sort of “thank you” to the cauldron.’

‘That is just the sort of attention it will appreciate,’ said Carbonel as he counted over the colours. ‘Wait a minute, though. You have not got anything red.’

Rosemary’s face fell. ‘Oh dear! I’ve only got three ha’-pence left and it’s getting so late! What shall I do?’

‘I know,’ said John. ‘Nip into the kitchen and warn Miss Maggie about the china coming, and see if there is anything red there. It isn’t stealing, really, because it’s for them.’

Rosemary hurried to the kitchen where Miss Maggie was arranging the half-dozen tea sets that were left. She was still sniffing slightly.

‘It’s all right, please cheer up! Because I think we can find you some china, as a lend, you know, for the afternoon. And then you will be able to make a lot of money with all the Women’s Instituters, and your brother will be frightfully impressed!’

Miss Maggie gave a wan smile. ‘You are a kind little thing, but whoever would lend us enough china? And besides, it is half past three already!’

‘Goodness!’ said Rosemary, ‘we must hurry up. But I am almost sure we can do it, so do have a whole lot of cakes ready!’

Miss Maggie shook her head despondently, but as she turned to lift a tin from its shelf, Rosemary snatched something from the table and dashed back to the wash house with her pigtails flapping excitedly.

‘I’ve got it, something red! A bottle of cochineal!’

The other things were already in the cauldron which Carbonel was stirring with a rung from the broken chair.

‘It’s making a lovely magic sort of smell already,’ said John, peering gingerly into the cauldron. ‘I suppose it’s the setting lotion and the methylated spirits.’

Carbonel stopped stirring, and the swirling mixture subsided into a slow simmer which made a rhythmical ‘plopping’ noise. ‘It’s about ready. Now the minute that you pour in the last thing, that’s the red stuff, repeat what I say and then add what your wish is… in rhyme if you can do it, and mind you say exactly what you mean this time!’

Rosemary nodded, breathing rather hard. She had already thought out a rhyme. This time she was determined there should be no mistake. She took a deep breath. ‘I’m ready. Shall I pour in the cochineal?’

Carbonel nodded. Silently they watched while she tipped the little bottle until it was quite empty, and as the last drop fell the cauldron began to bubble furiously, seething and frothing, until a pile of rainbow-coloured bubbles rose up from the mouth.

‘Say after me!’ whispered Carbonel:

Prism,

Schism,

Solecism.

Spectrum,

Plectrum,

Bright electrum.

Knelling,

Belling,

Wishing spelling!

And as Rosemary repeated the last word the bubbles subsided, and an urgent boiling took their place.

‘Now!’ hissed Carbonel. ‘Say your wish!’

Rosemary stood up very straight and said:

Listen to my wishing rhyme,

Please bring here till closing time,

All the china you can find,

Of every sort and shape and kind

From the Wilkinson Bequest,

And John and I will do the rest!

With a hiss and a cloud of steam that seemed to fill the wash house, the cauldron boiled over and put out the gas. For a moment they could see nothing but a fog of steam, but as it cleared they realized that something had happened.

‘Good old cauldron, it’s done it!’ said John. And it had. The sink, the floor, the draining board, the window ledge, every shelf and corner was covered with china, rare and exquisite china, Spode china, Rockingham china, Dresden china, Chelsea china, dinner sets, banqueting sets, tea sets, jugs, ornaments, statuettes, vases. In fact it was exactly what Rosemary had asked for – all the china from the Wilkinson Bequest out of the Fairfax Museum.

‘Gosh!’ said John. ‘You’ve overdone it a bit, haven’t you? I mean to say, all these banqueting sets…?’

‘I have a bit,’ said Rosemary as she rescued a priceless Georgian footbath from slipping off the broken chair. ‘I really meant tea-sets, but if it all goes back at closing time it won’t really matter,’ and she darted off to the kitchen.

‘Miss Maggie, Miss Maggie!’ she called. ‘Do come! We’ve done it! Heaps and heaps of china in the wash house, do come and see!’ and she took the astonished Miss Maggie by the hand and ran with her across the yard. The china was still there. John was already sorting out the tea-sets from the rest. Miss Maggie’s eyes were like saucers.

‘But where did it come from? I did not hear it arrive. Why, it is exquisite, beautiful china! It’s far too good.’

‘Oh, never mind!’ said Rosemary, who was jumping up and down with impatience. ‘It is yours until closing time. Do think of your brother’s good money after bad and the Women’s Instituters. They’ll be here any minute now!’

Miss Maggie took a deep breath. Then she said in an entirely different voice, ‘Florrie, go and fetch all the trays you can lay hands on, and put all the kettles on to boil, and then run round to Osbornes and buy up all the buns and scones they’ve got. We shall be able to pay them this evening!’

They collected all the china they could and staggered into the kitchen. The meeting at the Temperance Hall was clearly over. In the tea shop there was not an empty seat.

‘Oh dear!’ said Miss Florrie. ‘They are getting impatient. I know all the signs.’

‘Never mind, we’ll help all we can,’ said John, ‘if you will tell us what to do.’

‘Will you put all the tea pots on the rack above the stove to warm, and the little girl could arrange the tea trays on the big table, and I will go and take some orders.’

Goodness, how they worked! First they carried trays in, and then they collected dirty china and brought it back to wash up, and as fast as one customer got up to go another would take her place. And the Women’s Institute ladies ate cream buns and crumpets off plates of priceless porcelain, and they drank thick, tea-shop tea from tea pots made for a Chinese Emperor when our ancestors were running about in woad.

John and Rosemary stood over the sink washing-up until they thought their backs would break.

‘We’ve jolly well earned that old cauldron!’ said John, wiping his crimson face. ‘Did you see that when the brother came there was a queue outside the shop waiting to come in?’

‘I know,’ said Rosemary, ‘isn’t it splendid! He said that as they were so busy he would come back and talk to them after six.’

She stood up and pushed back her plaits for the fiftieth time.

‘Talking of closing time,’ said John, ‘if we are not back in Tottenham Grove by six when Jeffries comes to fetch me, Aunt Amabel will be cross, and then she may not let us go off on our own again.’

Miss Maggie came in with a loaded tray which she put down on the table.

‘Whew!’ she said. ‘It is slackening off now. I’ve never known such a day!’

‘Isn’t it splendid!’ said Rosemary. ‘But John and I think we ought to be going home now.’

‘My dear child, I simply don’t know how to thank you both. Goodness knows why you have done all you have. Where shall I return all this beautiful china? I should so like to thank the kind owner who lent it so generously. He must be rather an eccentric person.’

‘You really can’t thank him… it is… I mean he is very shy and retiring. And don’t bother about returning the china. It will… I mean, transport has been arranged!’

‘And it is quite easy to repay us,’ said John, who felt that in her efforts to explain things truthfully Rosemary was rather losing sight of their real object.

‘My dears, anything I can do, you have only to say what you want!’

‘Then would you let us have the cauldron that you use as an umbrella stand? As… as a sort of keepsake?’

‘Why, you funny little things, if that is really what you want! What an odd choice! I only paid five shillings for it in the market. Such an odd old woman I bought it from. And, of course, if you ever want tea or an ice-cream you will always be welcome at the Copper Kettle!’

John and Rosemary took off their aprons, fetched the broom and the cauldron, and said ‘Goodbye’. They had had no time for any tea, so Miss Florrie put a large bag of cakes in the cauldron for them to eat in the bus.

‘Goodbye, Miss Maggie. Just put the china together… and it will be collected. Goodbye, Miss Florrie!’ and with yet another wave from the two sisters they set off down the High Street to the bus terminus, carrying the cauldron between them, and with Carbonel behind.

Rosemary gave a great sigh. ‘Well, we’ve done it!’

‘So we have, but I never want to see a tea towel again!’ said John. ‘You got off pretty lightly!’ he said to the cat.

‘I did what I could,’ said Carbonel with dignity. ‘I washed up milk jugs until I was too full to lick so much as a teaspoon of cream.’

‘What an odd thing!’ said Mrs Brown that evening. She and Rosemary had finished their supper and she was reading a copy of the evening paper which she had bought on the way home. ‘Just listen to this!’

MUSEUM MYSTERY

While going on his usual rounds of the Fairfax Museum in the normal course of his duties, at 3.45 this afternoon, the attendant, Mr Arthur Pettigrew, discovered that the whole of the valuable Wilkinson Bequest China Collection had apparently been stolen. On being questioned, Mr Pettigrew said that when he left the room at 3.30 with a party of visitors everything was in its place. The police were at once informed. The theft was at first put down to a gang of thieves who have been at work in this neighbourhood, but the mystery deepened when it was discovered that all the glass cases were still locked, the keys never having left the possession of Mr Jones, the Curator. But on glancing into the room at closing time, Mr Pettigrew found that all the china had been returned, each piece being back in its right place. The theory that it was not a theft but a practical joke is strengthened by the fact that on several plates were signs of jam, and crumbs of cake and bread and butter, and that several teapots contained tea that was still quite warm.

‘Did you see the Wilkinson China when you and John were at the Museum this morning?’

Rosemary nodded. ‘It was all there when we went to see it,’ she said quite truthfully.