Carbonel and Calidor (4 page)

‘What's the trouble?' asked John.

‘Calidor, my son, heir to the Throne of Fallowhithe Cats, he is the trouble,' said Carbonel.

‘What's the matter with him?' asked Rosemary.

‘Matter?' went on Carbonel. ‘Wickedness is the matter. Wickedness and folly! Here have I been training him, day in, day out, for the high office that will one day be his, and what does he do? First he gets into bad company and refuses to make the marriage that was planned for him since he was a kitten ...' He paused and swallowed, as though steeling himself to go on. ‘And then one day, after saying he didn't care a herring bone who is King of Fallowhithe when I am gone, he runs away. Disappears without a trace.'

He looked so unhappy that Rosemary leaned forward, and stroked the top of his drooping head with one shy finger.

‘Poor Carbonel!' she said softly. ‘But what did you do?'

‘Do? What could I do? If any ordinary cat had disappeared, I could have alerted every animal in the kingdom: but not for Calidor, Prince of the royal blood. How could I tell the world that he is no longer worthy to be their King? Before the news becomes public property I hope to find him, and perhaps persuade him to a change of heart. So far only Blandamour, his poor mother, and my faithful Councillor Marbeck know what has happened.'

‘Did you never find any trace of him?' asked John.

Carbonel raised his head wearily.

‘After searching high and low I tracked him down at last to Fairfax Market. He seems to have taken up with two old women I've crossed claws with before, though how I don't remember. I felt a tingling in my paws the minute I set eyes on them.'

‘Do they live in a funny little house squashed in between two new blocks of offices?' asked John suddenly. At the same time he looked at Rosemary with lifted eyebrows. She nodded in return.

‘They do,' said Carbonel. ‘For some reason my son Calidor has joined them, but for no good purpose I am afraid. Once, I got my head round the door and heard them talking for a little, before it was slammed on my whiskers; but I could smell it, the smell of wickedness! Ever since, I have forgotten my pride, and called to him from time to time, pleading. I, Carbonel, pleading! But he gave no answer. I was in despair ... and then I thought I recognized you at the bus stop.'

‘Your son, Calidor,' asked John. ‘Is he a black cat with white paws?'

‘He is,' said Carbonel.

‘Then I shouldn't think there's much doubt,' went on John, turning to Rosemary. ‘Calidor must be Crumpet!'

‘Cr-r-r-umpet!' spat Carbonel, with ears flattened once more, and bristling back. ‘They dare to call a cat of the royal blood by such a name! Cr-r-r-umpet indeed!'

‘I don't suppose they know he's royal,' said Rosemary. ‘And he does toast himself in front of the fire. We saw him.'

‘You saw him?' exclaimed Carbonel.

Rosemary nodded. ‘This afternoon. We were having tea there, with Mrs Cantrip and Miss Dibdin. I think we heard you calling,' she went on. She remembered how Crumpet had dived for cover under the armchair when he heard the strange, bubbling cat cry.

‘You mean you can come and go in the little house that smells of wickedness?'

‘Yes, I suppose so,' said Rosemary doubtfully. ‘There was rather a funny smell. I thought it was just the flower water needed changing.'

‘Then you and John are the only ones who can help,' said Carbonel. ‘But there,' he went on reproachfully. ‘Now you are going away and leaving me in the lurch. I heard you talking about it on the way from the bus.'

‘We aren't leaving anyone in the lurch!' said John indignantly. ‘Rosie and I are going to stay with my uncle at Highdown. It was arranged ages ago. Miss Dibdin, that's the short fat one, is going there as well, and she's taking Crump ... I mean Calidor with her.'

‘She is? And you will be there too?' said Carbonel, leaping to his feet. ‘Then everything's settled!' His splendid white whiskers, which had been drooping unhappily, suddenly rose, as the spokes rise when you put up your umbrella.

‘Wait a minute!' said John. ‘What's settled?'

Carbonel went on as though he had not heard.

‘You realize that I have important affairs of state to attend to, and that I can't go on gallivanting off for days on end. I've already been away too long. Besides, I'm getting old and stiff in the joints. But now that you are taking over ...'

‘Taking over?' said Rosemary. ‘I don't think ...'

But Carbonel swept on. ‘I shall allow you twenty-four hours to make contact with Calidor and persuade him to return. Then I shall visit you at Highdown, so that you can report progress.' He held up a restraining paw as John tried to interrupt again. ‘Keep the Golden Gew-Gaw, as you call it, within sight or feel. In the wrong hands, someone who does not know its powers, it might be a deadly danger, and besides ...'

‘Oh do listen!' said John in an exasperated voice. ‘What on earth do you expect us to do? And this magic ring, is it ...?'

He broke off as the kitchen door opened behind them. Both John and Rosemary turned round. It was Mrs Featherstone.

‘Hallo, dears!' she said. ‘I didn't hear you come back. Oh, Rosie, your coat just thrown on the floor! How many times have I told you to hang up your things when you come in. And one of the saucers from the best tea-set on the floor too. What on earth are you both doing waving your hands in the air?' She laughed, and John and Rosemary hurriedly disengaged their fingers. It was John who slipped the ring in his pocket this time.

‘I'm sorry, Mum,' said Rosemary. ‘About the coat and the saucer, but you see ...' She turned. Carbonel was nowhere to be seen. She picked up her coat from the floor. There were only a few black hairs clinging to its surface to show where he had been sitting, and the gentle swinging of the casement window to show how he had gone.

‘All right, never mind. But do try to remember, dear,' said her mother. ‘You might lay the table for supper, will you? Fish fingers and jam tart to follow. I'll be back in a minute.' She closed the door behind her.

Rosemary looked at John. His face was red, and he began slapping knives and forks on the table in a cross sort of way.

‘What's the matter?' she asked.

‘Matter?' exploded John. ‘I'm blowed if I'm going to be bossed about by a mere cat!'

‘He isn't “mere”,' said Rosemary indignantly. ‘He's Carbonel.'

‘I don't care who he is!' said John. ‘If he thinks we're going to spend all our time at Highdown looking for his wretched Calidor, he's got another think coming!'

‘But if he wants us to help him it would be beastly not to try!' said Rosemary hotly.

‘My good girl,' snapped John. ‘What on earth can we possibly do, even if we find his wretched Calidor? Nothing, except tell him to be a good pussy and go home to mummy and daddy. Not me!'

‘If only Carbonel had explained a bit more before we were interrupted,' went on Rosemary unhappily. ‘And what about the Golden Gew-Gaw? He said if it got into the wrong hands it might be a “deadly danger”, and we've no idea how it works.'

John took the ring from his pocket, and held it gingerly in the hollow of his palm, where the red stone glowed like a living coal.

‘By the barmy way you went on when you put it on at the bus stop, I can believe him!' he said. ‘And how do you know that
we
aren't “the wrong hands”? We haven't the faintest idea what it does.'

‘Except it lets us hear Carbonel when he talks,' said Rosemary obstinately. She frowned, and then said urgently, ‘John, I've just thought of something! Miss Dibdin's parcel — do you think that was it?'

‘Which was what?' asked John impatiently.

‘The purple cracker! Do you think that could possibly have been the mysterious parcel? I told you it was lying loose on top of the pink crackers as though it didn't belong. Well, whoever put it there must have thought that she would open the box and find it!'

‘You mean the queer old man? Good grief! I wonder if you're right?'

‘Don't you remember, Miss Dibdin said what a long time he was at the back of the shop doing up the parcel?' went on Rosemary.

‘And that was why he cackled fit to “do himself a mischief”,' went on John. ‘When he said it would reach Fairfax Market at the very same time that Miss Dibdin did. She was carrying it home herself after all, and she didn't know!' He exploded with laughter, but Rosemary was frowning.

‘But how could it be a Do-It-Yourself Kit?' she said. ‘Do what yourself?'

‘Why, magic of course! That must be what her hobby was! A witch's hat and a magic ring would be ...' He broke off when he found he was talking to empty air. Rosemary had rushed out into the passage where she had obediently hung up her coat. Her muffled voice came from outside.

‘I'm sure it's here somewhere. I shoved it in my coat pocket when the bus came.'

She returned with a handful of crumpled paper, which was all that was left of the purple cracker. Very carefully she smoothed it out among the supper knives and forks. The paper hat was there. She gave a sigh of relief. It had been screwed into a ball, but was still recognizable.

‘And we've got the ring,' said John. ‘I suppose we'd better take them both to Fairfax Market tomorrow, and explain to Miss Dibdin what happened. But wait a minute ...' He stopped, and then went on with a frown: ‘Didn't Miss Dibdin say something about the instructions how to use the things being in the parcel too?'

Rosemary went hurriedly through every inch of the crumpled paper again. ‘Well, I can't see anything that looks like instructions here,' she said.

‘Crikey! What do we do now?' said John. ‘I suppose the whole lot is useless, the ring and the hat, without knowing how to use them. I don't much like the idea of telling Miss Dibdin what's happened, even if it wasn't our fault.'

‘Anyway, we can't go to Fairfax Market tomorrow,' said Rosemary. ‘Don't you remember? Dad is taking us to the airport to watch the aeroplanes.'

‘Ooh, yes, we don't want to miss that,' said John. ‘I tell you what. Supposing we keep everything absolutely safe until we get to Highdown. It's such a little place, we are sure to bump into Miss Dibdin some time or other. She may not want callers, but I bet she'll be glad to see us if we've got the Golden Gew-Gaw, even if we have gone and lost the directions. I'll put the ring, and the witch's hat, rolled up small, as it was inside the purple cracker, in my box for Special Things.'

As he spoke he pulled a flat tin box from his pocket which had once held his father's tobacco. Inside were some foreign stamps, a Turkish coin and an owl pellet. He put the ring and the screwed-up paper hat carefully inside, replaced the lid, and returned the box to his pocket.

‘Carbonel said: “Keep the ring always within sight or feel.” Well it'll be within feel all right.' He patted the bulge the box made in the pocket of his jeans, so that it gave a hollow rattle. ‘Agreed?' he said.

Rosemary nodded. ‘And just suppose we do meet Crumpet ...?'

‘Wait till we do,' said John. ‘And then ... well, we'll just see what happens.'

As things turned out, quite a lot happened.

S
EVERAL
days later Rosemary wrote:

As Rosemary slid the letter into an envelope, John burst into the room.

‘What an age you've been over that old letter! Do buck up. Oh, and send my love to your Mum.'

‘Too late,' said Rosemary. ‘I've just licked it up. I wonder why they don't make envelope gum taste nice. They might have different flavours, like orange and peppermint.'

‘And chocolate-flavoured stamps,' said John. ‘But for goodness' sake put a spurt on. It's so late I've asked Mother Boddles if she will make us some sandwiches, so that we shan't have to waste time coming home in the middle of the leaflet business. Uncle Zack said I could.'

Rosemary had been writing with the pad on her knee sitting on the end of her bed, which is not the best way to write a letter; but she loved her tiny bedroom under the eaves.