Carbonel and Calidor (15 page)

In the middle of the table she placed Gullion, having first planted a kiss on his warty head; and beside Gullion she placed the china bowl. High up in the gallery, on the opposite side, John and Rosemary could see her every movement.

‘Front row of the dress circle!' whispered John. Rosemary ignored him. The knuckles of both her hands were white with concentration. They could see that the china bowl was filled with a dark liquid which crinkled and dimpled as though it was boiling, although there was no flame underneath.

‘Mutter ... mutter!' went Mrs Witherspoon. ‘Tick ... Tock!' went the grandfather clock, each stroke now echoing like stones falling down a well. Suddenly she pulled seven different leaves from the spray she held, and began dancing round the table from right to left. Seven times she swept round, pausing to curtsey to the clock as she completed each circle, and at the same time dropping a different leaf into the bowl, still muttering as she went. When six leaves were floating in the mixture, she stirred it with a bony finger. Then she flung up her arms and chanted in a solemn voice:

And suddenly the tick of the clock grew unbearably loud. ‘
TICK
...
TOCK
...
TICK
...
TOCK
...
TICK
...' But just before the third
TOCK
, whirling round for the seventh time, Mrs Witherspoon dropped the seventh leaf into the bowl. As she did so the dark liquid fizzed and bubbled and boiled over, and the grandfather clock went mad. The hands whizzed wildly backwards, with such a clamour of striking, and frantic beating of
TICKS
and
TOCKS
, that John and Rosemary let go the rails they had been clutching, and crouched down with their hands over their ears. When the racket subsided they opened their eyes again.

The only thing that seemed the same was Miss Dibdin. She stood, wide-eyed with wonder, looking rather forlorn in her shabby old mackintosh. The hall was brilliantly lit by a sudden burst of sunshine. It shone on a thick red carpet, on the gold frames of the massive pictures now hanging on the walls. It gleamed softly on the polish of the solid furniture which stood round the walls, and twinkled on the crystal chandelier which hung from the ceiling, and on silver candlesticks and salvers. There was not a cobweb to be seen.

In front of the grandfather clock, where old Mrs Witherspoon had stood in her rusty black skirt, was a slender young woman in a short pink dress. Her eyes were dark and lustrous, and her raven-black hair fell softly on either side of smooth cheeks, that were bright with excitement.

‘It has worked! It has really worked!' cried the young woman, flinging her arms wide.

‘Excuse me,' said Miss Dibdin in a puzzled voice. ‘But what has worked? And who are you?'

‘Why, who do you think, my poor old Dibdin? I'm Dulcie Witherspoon, as I used to be fifty years ago. It's worked! It's worked! I am young once more!' She danced round the hall. ‘And everything is back again in its proper place. Just as it used to be! Who is the best witch now?' she asked in a mocking voice.

Miss Dibdin stood with downcast head. Something shining trickled down her cheeks and fell with a plop on the toe of one of her sensible shoes.

‘You are the best witch, Dulcie,' she said at last. But young Mrs Witherspoon was not listening. She was running round the hall on slender silk-clad legs, flinging open door after door and exclaiming with delight at what she saw inside each room. The grandfather clock was ticking lazily once more, as though nothing unusual had happened.

‘All the precious things I had to sell, back in their right places again! Even the crystal chandelier, and my darling piano! How I shall play and play! Gullion, my pet,' she said, picking him up and whirling him round. ‘Now, you shall have your bath in a silver bowl every day!'

‘I see you did not have electric light fifty years ago. I suppose you'll have to make do with candles,' said Miss Dibdin with a sniff.

‘Oh don't be such a spoil-sport, Dorothy!'

‘And it's all very well whisking all these things back again, but what are the people who bought them going to say when they find they have disappeared? Stolen, they are!' went on Miss Dibdin. ‘Why, you are no more than a common thief! And don't forget, I only have your word for it that you really are Dulcie Witherspoon of Tucket Towers. Who else is going to believe you?'

‘Really, Dorothy! You only say that because you're jealous,' said young Mrs Witherspoon, stamping her slender foot in anger. ‘I wish you'd go back to your station. You're just a source of irritation!'

There was a second's pause, and then suddenly ... Miss Dibdin was no longer there! Where she had been standing was nothing but a wisp of smoke, which quickly melted into the shadows of the rafters.

Mrs Witherspoon raised startled hands, fingers spread, palms outwards. There, twisted round to the inside of her left hand winked the crimson stone of the Golden Gew-Gaw.

‘Good gracious!' she said, as she thought to the empty air. ‘I wonder how that happened?'

John and Rosemary could have told her. ‘She must have been wearing it all the time,' whispered John.

‘But with the stone twisted round so that no one should see it,' said Rosemary. ‘Did you see it wink after poor Miss Dibdin had been wished away?'

‘In the mocking way it does when it has tricked you,' said John.

‘Well, off I go round the house!' said Mrs Witherspoon, who, although she was fifty years younger, seemed not to have lost the habit of talking to herself.

‘So much to explore! So much to do! And my darling Gullion shall come too, so he shall,' And scooping up the toad she went dancing away with a click of her high heels.

‘Quick, now's our chance!' said John as the dining-room door closed behind her.

They scurried down the stairs, the thick carpet muffling their footsteps, and ran towards the open front door.

‘Miss Dibdin has left her broom behind,' said John. ‘I felt quite sorry for her when she saw she was beaten, and Mrs Witherspoon was crowing over her.'

‘So did I,' said Rosemary. ‘Let's take the broom back to her.' She picked it up, and they ran out into the sunshine.

‘W
E
shall have to stir our stumps if we're going home by the station,' said John.

‘I know,' said Rosemary. ‘We promised we'd help Mother Boddles with the teas at the Sale this afternoon, and we mustn't let her down.'

‘But how on earth are we going to get to Fallowhithe and back in time? We
must
tell Calidor about Carbonel, Grisana and Mrs Witherspoon. It'll take hours to walk all that way, and we haven't enough money for a bus.'

‘Let's get rid of the broom first, anyway,' said Rosemary. ‘Ow! It nearly tripped me up! Here, you can carry it.' She passed the broom to John.

‘There must be a way to the field path somewhere round here at the side of the house.'

They ran under an archway, across what had once been a stable yard, and through a broken-down gate. On the other side, they could just see the ghost of a path which wound through the clump of trees they had seen from the road; beyond where the field began, it petered out.

‘Ow!' said John, as he rubbed his shin in his turn. ‘The beastly broom nearly tripped
me
up! Almost as though it did it on purpose. I say, you don't think it wants us to ...' They stood still and looked at one another.

‘To fly on it? Well, it does seem a bit to silly to
walk
,' said Rosemary.

‘Come on, let's try! After all, it only hops.' John stood astride the broom as he spoke. ‘Get on behind, and hold on to my waist.'

Rosemary obeyed. Then she said: ‘Well, go on! Tell it where to go to.'

‘Take us to the station!' commanded John in a loud and lordly voice.

They waited, but nothing happened.

‘You may have to say it in rhyme, like the Gew-Gaw wishes, and Mrs Witherspoon's Middle Magic,' said Rosemary. ‘And I expect you'd better be polite. Wait a minute, I believe I can remember what Miss Dibdin said to it the day we saw her ride away from Tucket Towers. Something like this:

“
To the Ladies' Waiting Room
”.'

She stopped, and thought for a minute, and then went on with a rush:

‘ “
Kindly take us, noble broom
”!'

 

At once, the handle of the broom began to quiver. The quiver grew to a rapid vibration, then it seemed to gather itself together and leapt into the air. Caught off her guard, Rosemary nearly fell off. She just had time to clutch John round the waist as the broom sailed six feet up into the air, and down again.

‘Stick your feet out in front!' yelled John, as the broom hit the ground with a jolt, only to bounce once more into the air again. ‘Wheee!' he shouted. ‘This is super!'

Up and down went the broom, gaining height and speed with every bound.

‘It's like the merry-go-round at the fair, only it goes straight and much faster!' shouted Rosemary. ‘We shall get to the station in no time.'

Up the gentle slope of the field bounced the broom and there was the station in front of them. It seemed to wobble towards them with surprising speed, and it looked increasingly solid and hard to land on as it came closer.

‘Hold tight!' shouted John. ‘We're coming in to land!'

Rosemary squeezed her eyes shut, and with a jolt and a clatter they pan-caked on to the platform, just outside the Ladies' Waiting Room. They rose rather shakily to their feet. The broom, apparently lifeless once more, lay between them on the ground.

‘Whew! That was quite a ride!' said John. ‘Hallo, there's Mattins.'

The grey cat was sitting with drooping head by the remains of the broken seat.

‘Whatever has happened to your poor whiskers?' said Rosemary. ‘They've gone all crinkly.' Mattins lifted his head with a jerk.

‘
She
plaited them,' he snapped, with an angry toss of his head towards Tucket Towers.

‘But whatever for?' asked Rosemary.

‘As a punishment, because without her permission, I told Grisana about the black cat she is keeping prisoner. When I managed to get my whiskers un-plaited, they were like this, and I can't get them straight again.'

‘But didn't Grisana stick up for you?' asked John.

‘Not she! She laughed fit to burst when she saw my poor whiskers. I've done with both of them, Grisana and the Witch Woman. I'm really sorry I told tales about Crumpet. But I was angry with him when I heard him telling you about this business of being a royal animal, and he hadn't trusted me enough to tell me too. I came to see if this one would take me on instead.' He nodded towards the Waiting Room.

‘She's not much of a witch, but I'm not much of a cat, not with whiskers like this. I knew she was catless now Crumpet has gone. But even that's no good. She says she's giving up witching. You can ask her for yourselves. She's in there.' He nodded once more to the open door behind him.

John picked up the broom and marched into the Ladies' Waiting Room with Rosemary at his side. Miss Dibdin was sitting crouched on the floor by the empty fireplace, with her head in her hands. Rosemary tiptoed up to her.

‘Miss Dibdin,' she said softly. ‘Do please cheer up.'

‘Go away!' she replied, without looking up. ‘Whoever you are.'

‘It's us, John and Rosemary. We've brought your broom back for you. You left it behind at Tucket Towers.'