Carbonel and Calidor (13 page)

Dumpsie ran forward to greet them with a welcoming ‘Prrrt!' Rosemary bent down and stroked her. Mrs Bodkin was pricking sausages with a fork.

‘
I
know!' she said, lifting a frowning face. ‘You want your supper, and I'm all behind and it's not ready, but I've only got one pair of hands.'

‘Oh, never mind about supper,' said John, rather to her surprise. ‘Have you seen my dirty old jeans?'

‘What do you think?' said Mrs Bodkin. ‘I gave them a wash.'

‘Thanks awfully. But did you find a tin box in the pocket?' Mrs Bodkin gave a sniff.

‘A medal for bravery I ought to get. I never know what my fingers are going to sink into when I go through young John's pockets. A dead mouse it was once when you was last here. Of course I found your precious box. It's on the dresser there. My hands was soapy, and I dropped it, and the things fell all over the place, but I put 'em all back again.'

John hurried to the dresser and fetched the box. The Golden Gew-Gaw was not there.

‘There was a ring in it too,' said John.

‘With a big red stone,' added Rosemary.

‘Oh yes, I forgot about that,' said Mrs Bodkin. ‘I found it on the floor when I'd put the box on the shelf for safety. Nearly trod on it. I slipped it on my finger while I finished the wash, just to keep it safe ... and then it happened. I must have come over queer. I shall have to see a doctor.'

She put a hand to her forehead and John and Rosemary gave one another an anxious glance.

‘I'm so sorry,' said Rosemary. ‘Do sit down and tell us about it!'

Mrs Bodkin sank gratefully into the chair that John brought forward.

‘I don't know what came over me,' she said. ‘I'd done all the cooking, and polished most of the furniture for the Sale tomorrow, and then I thought I'd just wash your jeans through, seeing as you've only got one spare pair, before I had a nice sit-down. Tired, I was, with all I'd done. Well, I'd collected one or two things. You know how it is once you start, but not worth getting out the washing machine. I'd got my hands in the suds, and my back was aching, and the thinking of all that spring-cleaning wash I'd put off till you kids had gone. I remember saying to pussy here something about wishing all the dirty things were ready washed and on the line ... And next thing, I looked out of the window — and they were! On the line, I mean. Stretching all the way down the garden and back. Loose covers, cushions, blankets, bedspreads ... The lot! And me still with my hands in the suds, and not remembering a thing about it: not taking down the curtains even, which means getting out the step-ladder, nor hanging it all on the line or anything. It seemed done in a flash, like. A sort of fit I must have had, not remembering!' Distractedly she waved the fork she was still holding.

‘I shouldn't worry,' said Rosemary soothingly. ‘I don't suppose it will happen again.'

‘And then of course, I had to turn to and iron the blooming lot!
And
air the blankets so we don't catch our deaths tonight. I've been at it ever since. I'm about done in.'

‘I'm not surprised,' said John.

‘But I expect you are glad it's all finished,' went on Rosemary.

‘I suppose so,' said Mrs Bodkin. ‘The things is as clean as anyone could wish, I'll say that. But doing all that great enormous wash, and not remembering anything about it, I must be going queer in the head.'

‘Well, you seem as right as rain now,' said John. ‘But the ring. Could we have it?'

‘Now, what did I do with it?' said Mrs Bodkin. ‘Oh, I remember. It slipped off my finger in the soapy water and I put it on the window-sill. That's funny, it isn't there now!'

‘I expect it's fallen out on to the path outside,' said John. But search as they would, they could not find it.

‘I suppose no one could have taken it?' said John. ‘Has anyone been to the back door?'

‘Only that Mrs Whatshername. Lives in the big house down Sheepshank Lane. Widdlespoon is it? You should have seen her hat! Enough to make a cat laugh.'

Dumpsie drew herself up in an offended way.

‘Said she couldn't make anyone hear at the front. She wanted to know if there was one of those big black coalscuttles in the Sale. Like an old-fashioned cooking pot with a handle over the top. Well of course I don't know. Very hoity-toity she was.'

‘We
must
find the ring,' said John. ‘It's valuable.'

Mrs Bodkin looked at him curiously. ‘What's a lad like you doing with a valuable ring?'

‘It's only valuable to us,' said Rosemary hastily. ‘It came out of a cracker.'

‘A lady like that would never bother about a trumpery cracker ring,' said Mrs Bodkin, rising to her feet. ‘But I must get on. Sausages and a bit of fried potato it'll have to be for your supper. And do me a favour. Don't tell your uncle. About my funny turn, I mean. He'll start talking again about getting someone in to help. As if I can't manage! Now be good children, and lay the table. I'm feeling worn out, with all that work and the worry of being took bad. I'll slip down to the doctor first thing tomorrow.'

‘The beastly ring, it's done it again!' said John, as they laid knives and forks on the spotless, newly washed and ironed table-cloth. ‘That's the third mess it's got us into.'

‘And how on earth are we going to get it back from Mrs Witherspoon? I bet she's “the wrong hands”. She may wish something simply frightful with it.'

‘W
E
must
settle on some plan of action,' said John, as he walked with Rosemary up the weedy drive of Tucket Towers early next morning. ‘We keep talking about it, and not deciding anything.'

‘Well, first we hand over the letter to Mrs Witherspoon. ... That ought to give us a chance to see if she is wearing the Golden Gew-Gaw,' said Rosemary ... ‘And then what? That's where we always get stuck. Last Christmas,' she went on thoughtfully, ‘I went carol singing with Sally Simson in aid of Orphan Children's Homes. Sometimes people asked us inside.'

‘We can't go carol singing in April, you owl!' said John.

‘Not carols, of course,' said Rosemary. ‘But couldn't we say we are collecting for Orphan Children's Homes? And ... I know! Has she any odd jobs we could do?'

‘That's not a bad idea!' said John. ‘And if we did get any money we really would give it to the Orphan Children.'

‘But what do we do next when we get inside?' said Rosemary.

‘That depends on the job she gives us. Let's wait and see. We're nearly there.'

‘I know,' said Rosemary. ‘I'm beginning to get a funny feeling in my inside.'

‘Me too,' said John.

‘Don't let's stop for a single second, or I shan't be brave enough to go on again.'

‘We'd better be quick and get it over,' said John. ‘One, two, three ... Go!'

At a brisk trot they crossed the weedy carriage sweep in front of the house, and ran up the steps to the front door. John tugged at the wrought-iron bell-pull. It was stiff and rusty, as though it was not used very often. Somewhere in the distance, they heard the clanging of the bell. After a long pause, during which they nearly turned tail and ran, a key grated in the lock, and the door swung open.

‘Yes? What do you want?' said Mrs Witherspoon sharply.

‘We've brought a letter ...'

‘Mr Sprules asked us ...'

They both started to speak at the same time and then stopped. Rosemary giggled nervously.

‘Come along! Come along!' said Mrs Witherspoon crossly.

‘Mr Sprules asked us if we would bring you this,' said John. ‘It's one of the missing pages of the book you bought the other day.'

‘Aha!' said Mrs Witherspoon, in quite a different voice. ‘That is another matter. Give it to me!'

She almost snatched the envelope from John, tore it open impatiently and pulled out the yellowing page. Ignoring both children, she stood framed in the doorway as she studied the cramped print. Very upright she was, in a long black skirt and high-necked blouse. Her pale face, ringed and wrinkled like a cauliflower, was surrounded by straggling white hair. They had plenty of time to examine her fingers. She wore two plain gold rings, one was wide and the other narrow: but there was no sign of the glowing stone of the Golden Gew-Gaw.

Presently she looked up, and now she was smiling, but not at them. It was a sly, secret sort of smile.

‘This is what I've been waiting for!' she said, more to herself than to John and Rosemary. ‘Thank you. That will be all, children!'

‘Oh please,' said Rosemary. ‘We're collecting for Orphan Children's Homes, and we wondered if you had any odd jobs we could do?'

‘We don't mind what it is!' added John.

‘You mean you want to be
paid
for it?' said Mrs Witherspoon. All trace of a smile disappeared. ‘I'm not made of money, you know!'

‘Oh, only what you feel like giving us,' said John.

‘Well, yes,' she said after a thoughtful pause. ‘Perhaps there is something you could do. You may come inside. Wipe your feet!'

John and Rosemary could scarcely control their grins of triumph as they followed the tall gaunt figure into the hall.

‘Follow me to the kitchen,' she said over her shoulder.

The hall looked even more dusty and shabby than it had done when they peered at it from outside. Cobwebs hung thickly from the deer's antlers that hung over every door, and the ragged carpet nearly tripped up Rosemary as she stared about her. There was no broomstick in the umbrella stand this time.

At the end of the hall they went through a swing door covered with moth-eaten green baize. It closed behind them with a ‘whoosh'. The kitchen was down a short passage on the other side. John and Rosemary just had time to notice a huge old-fashioned range, with a very small fire burning in it, and two cats sitting on the hearth-rug in front.

‘Come along! Don't loiter!' said Mrs Witherspoon sharply. ‘The scullery is through here.'

As she spoke she opened the door into a smaller room, leading from the kitchen. The first thing they saw when they went inside was a large earthenware sink, loaded with tottering piles of unwashed dishes, and dirty saucepans.

‘I have got a
leetle
bit behind with the washing-up,' said Mrs Witherspoon. ‘There's your job for you. When it is all done you shall have a whole penny each. You will find an apron hanging over there, behind the door into the garden. I have to go and pick some herbs.' She glanced at the printed page Mr Sprules had sent her, and smiled the same secret smile again. ‘For there is an important experiment I have to make. But I shall be back shortly to see that you've done your work properly.'

She opened the door, locked it behind her, and went out into the garden. There was a window over the draining board, and they watched her peering about in the overgrown flower beds.

John stood with his hands on his hips, and glowered at the pile of dirty dishes. ‘Just a
leetle
bit behind with the washing-up!' he mimicked. ‘She can't have done any for weeks! I didn't bargain for this. And one penny each. The Orphan Children won't get very fat on that!'

‘Never mind,' said Rosemary. ‘At least it has got us inside.' She held her hand hopefully under a running tap. ‘No hot water either. Come on. Do stop glaring and help me move these saucepans from the sink. Put them on the floor, or anywhere out of the way. If only we'd got the ring we might have learned something from those two cats in the kitchen.'

Everyone knows that the longer washing-up is left, the harder it is to do. Some of the saucepans had clearly been left for a very long time indeed. With a good deal of clattering they cleared the sink.

‘What on earth are you staring at that little enamel thing for?' asked John.

‘Do you think it's an egg saucepan?' asked Rosemary.

‘For goodness' sake! Have we got to guess what's been cooked in each one?' said John.

‘Do stop being cross. There's some bright purple runny stuff at the bottom,' went on Rosemary. ‘Don't you remember Mrs Witherspoon saying that she cooked her Hearing Mixture in the egg saucepan, and it was purple? Quick, get a teaspoon and pour a drop into each of my ears. That's what she said she did, and then she could hear all cats talking.'

‘But suppose it's just the remains of some pudding or other? Or ... or even worse, some different kind of magic? It might turn you into something — well, creepy crawly!'

‘I hadn't thought of that,' said Rosemary uneasily. ‘But we shall have to risk it. Don't you see? Without the ring we can't talk to Carbonel or Calidor, or any of the other cats, and we are stuck unless we do. Hurry! Mrs Witherspoon may be back any minute.'

She rinsed a teaspoon under the tap and pushed it into John's reluctant hand, put her head on one side and held her hair back. ‘Go on,' she said, and took a deep breath.

Very gingerly John took the saucepan, scooped up a little of the liquid, and poured a drop into each of her ears. Rosemary raised her head. She was looking rather pale.

‘Rosie ... are you all right?' asked John anxiously. At first she did not answer; instead she lifted her hand as if to silence him. Then she ran to the kitchen door and opened it carefully, the merest crack, and stood listening. Her face broke into a smile. ‘It has worked! I can hear those two cats next door,' she whispered. ‘But I can't make out all they are saying. Something about a clever plan ... I think.' Then her eyes widened. ‘Help! It's Grisana and Melissa! I recognize their voices. What on earth are they doing here?'

‘I bet they're up to no good, whatever it is,' said John. ‘Quick, there's just about enough purple stuff to pour down my ears too, if you scrape the saucepan, then let's go and talk to them.' When Rosemary had done as he asked he went on: ‘Better make friends with them first, before we let on that we can understand them.'