The Ogre Downstairs (6 page)

There was a shuffling noise from under Douglas’s
bed, and Malcolm walked out from underneath it. Their eyes popped. He was about a foot high. All of him was small in proportion, except that perhaps his head was a little too big for his body. He had no clothes on. Instead he was wrapped in a shirt, which he was clutching round him like a cloak, and which trailed behind and around him, making a shiny path on the dusty floor. They could see Malcolm’s tiny hands each grasping a shirt button, and they stared in amazement at his equally tiny toes.

Malcolm shivered. “At least shut the window, can’t you!” he said, with dignity.

Johnny, quite overawed, turned round and clapped the window shut. Gwinny looked across at the hump in Malcolm’s bed, rather ashamed. She could see it was only a pillow now.

“However did you get like that?” said Caspar.

“In the cause of Science,” Malcolm said haughtily. “Didn’t Douglas tell you? I was much smaller than this at bedtime. It took ages to climb out of my clothes, and then I couldn’t get Douglas to hear me, let alone see me.”

“But what did you do?” said Johnny. “What did it?”

“It’s a tube called
Parv. pulv
.,” said Malcolm, “and I advise you not to fool about with it. It’s rather awful being that small. The grains of dust look as big as footballs. And I kept being blown over in the draught under the door. All I did was sniff it.”

“Wow!” said Johnny, quite appalled to think that he might have been in the same case any time that week.

“But what made Douglas have to go into town?” asked Gwinny.

“To find the antidote, of course,” said Malcolm. “The sets came from a toyshop near Father’s office, and we didn’t dare try anything else in case I vanished completely. The old boy was watching telly, and Douglas said he was furious at being disturbed.”

“But he told you the antidote?” Caspar said.

“Yes. It’s
Magn. pulv
.,” said Malcolm. “I thought that was magnesium. But it works – though I seem to be growing awfully slowly,” he complained looking down at his pigmy body with distaste. “What’s Douglas doing?”

“What will you do if you’re not the right size for school tomorrow?” Gwinny asked, with interest.

“I don’t know,” Malcolm said crossly. “
You
tell me.”

“Perhaps you should have some more of the antidote?” Johnny suggested.

Malcolm shuddered. “No! I had to eat a whole grain, and it tastes horrible. What’s Douglas doing? How is he going to get in?”

“But how much did the old man tell you to eat?” Johnny persisted.

“He didn’t,” said Malcolm. “He just said it was
Magn. Pulv
. Where’s Douglas?”

“Then perhaps you should wash in it,” said Gwinny.

“Climbing in through the kitchen window,” said Caspar.

“Well!” said Malcolm. “I think the least you could do was go down and open it for him.”

“He wouldn’t let me,” said Caspar. “I offered. I’m not a complete brute, whatever you think.”

Malcolm gathered the shirt around him and trailed with dignity towards the door. “Can I trouble you to
turn the handle?” he said coldly. “I see I shall have to go down and try to open the darn thing myself.”

“How can you that size?” Johnny said, climbing off the table. “Don’t be a fool. I’ll go. It had better be me,” he explained to the other two. “The Ogre thinks I’m capable of any crime anyway, and I can always say I was stealing biscuits.”

Malcolm swung round from the door. “Who are you calling an ogre?”

“Your flipping father,” said Caspar. “And you know he is, so don’t argue.”

“I know no such thing,” Malcolm said uncertainly.

“I’d better go down and see, anyway,” Johnny said. Since Malcolm was in his way, he picked him up, moderately gently, and put him to one side of the door. Malcolm stuttered with indignation, but he was helpless. Johnny opened the door and crept heavily out on to the landing, into the remnant of old chemical smells.

Before he had reached the head of the stairs, the whole house echoed with a shattering crash. Johnny froze. So did Malcolm in the doorway. Gwinny, who was in the middle of the room with Caspar, covered her ears and held her breath. Caspar, with horrible clarity, remembered the big jug of orange juice which had been on the kitchen windowsill that evening.

Light was snapped on below. Heavy footsteps hurried. Gwinny and Caspar found themselves out on the landing with Johnny, and Malcolm came scuttling between them.

There was a long, awful silence. Then the Ogre’s voice was raised in a perfect roar: “
You disobedient little devil!
”

After that, the Ogre’s voice rumbled and roared, on and on, for what seemed hours, accusing Douglas of going to the Discotheque when he had been told not to, and of other crimes besides. Caspar, Johnny and Gwinny all felt sick. They did not need Malcolm to say, between chattering teeth, “Now look what you’ve done!” to remind them that it was their fault Douglas was caught like this. And to make matters worse, Douglas plainly could not think what to say. For a long time, there was no sound from him at all. Then his voice was raised in a faint-sounding denial.

The Ogre shouted, “A
nd don’t give me those lies!
” There was the sound of a heavy blow falling. And another. All four on the landing winced each time.

A door opened downstairs. Sally’s voice said, “Jack! Really—”

“Will you kindly allow me to deal with this as I think best,” said the Ogre.

There was no reply. The door shut again. After that, the Ogre roared on again, and there were sounds that suggested Douglas was having to clear up the jug and the orange juice that had been in it. Then there was still more shouting, until they could hardly bear it, which at last died away to a rumble, followed by silence. They sighed. Johnny looked towards Malcolm and found he had grown. His head was now level with Gwinny’s shoulder.

They all looked anxiously towards the stairs again. They could hear Douglas coming up two at a time. The light came on at their landing, showing Malcolm now nearly Gwinny’s size and looking a little indecent in just a shirt. Then Douglas came galloping upwards with such
an expression of fury and misery on his face that Caspar braced himself to run and Gwinny and Johnny backed away.

Douglas halted on the top stair when he saw the four of them on the landing. “Flaming pustules!” he said. “There’s no privacy in this blessed house!” He turned round and went galloping downstairs again. They heard the bathroom door slam and the bolt go home with a shriek.

Then the Ogre’s heavy feet began marching up the stairs.

“Quick!” whispered Caspar to Malcolm. “Don’t let him see you that size!”

He and Johnny took Malcolm and hurled him into his room, and Malcolm did not protest. Gwinny raced upstairs to her room. Caspar and Johnny fled to theirs, tore off their clothes and dived into bed. When the Ogre arrived in their doorway, they were both between surprisingly cold sheets, breathing as heavily and slowly as they could. The Ogre clicked their light switch, muttered a little when the light would not come on, and went across the landing to see what Malcolm was doing. Whatever he saw there seemed to satisfy him, for he went heavily away downstairs.

Caspar waited until his bedroom door shut. Then he got up again and put on his pyjamas, closed the window and dug the light bulb out of his coat pocket. When he had succeeded in putting it back in its socket, he discovered, considerably to his surprise, that Johnny was asleep. Casper felt fairly sleepy himself, but he knew he could not possibly go to sleep without a word at least of
apology and thanks to Douglas. So he went out and sat on the landing to wait for him.

He was nine-tenths asleep, with his forehead on his knees, when he heard his mother’s voice on the landing below. “Douglas,” she was saying. “Douglas, please won’t you come out?” Caspar could tell she was just outside the bathroom door. After she had called again several times, he heard Douglas’s voice. He could not hear what Douglas said, but it sounded like a gruff refusal. “Oh, come on, Douglas,” Sally said. “How would it be if I made you some cocoa?” There was a further mutter from Douglas. It sounded less gruff. Caspar was glad. He knew that if it had been him in the bathroom, he would have wanted cocoa, and comfort too.

But before Sally could speak again, Caspar heard the voice of the Ogre. “Sally, for heaven’s sake come back to bed. I’ll deal with the stupid little fool.” And then he heard the Ogre’s fist pound on the bathroom door. “Douglas,” said the Ogre, “come on out of there and stop behaving like a spoilt baby. If you don’t come out this instant, it’ll be the worse for you when you do.”

“Look, Jack—” said Sally.

“Shut up,” said the Ogre. “Did you hear me, Douglas?”

“Yes, I heard you,” said the muffled, sulky voice of Douglas. The bolt clicked. Caspar heard the door open.

“Now get to bed,” said the Ogre savagely. “I’ve had about enough of you.”

Douglas came swiftly upstairs. Caspar, rather nervously stood up. Douglas stopped when he saw him.

“I wanted to say sorry,” Caspar whispered.

But Douglas was in no mood for apologies. “You wait!” he said, in a furious low rumble. “I owe you for this. You just wait!”

A
lthough Malcolm was his own size again the next morning, everyone, not surprisingly, was torpid and tired. Johnny staggered from his bed and went to school without really waking up. Both Caspar and Malcolm arrived late and had to stand publicly at the back of Assembly. Douglas left the house when the Ogre and Sally did, which meant that he must have been late also, but since he went to the Senior School, no one knew what had happened. Gwinny fared best because the Ogre, seeing she was going to be late, took her down to Juniors in his car.

After school, Johnny as usual managed to get home first. He pelted up to their room and there, in spite of a
sudden overwhelming desire to roll on his bed and go to sleep, he doggedly sorted through the crowded and disorderly chemistry box until he had found the two tubes marked
Parv. pulv
. and
Magn. pulv
. His idea was to tape them together with sticky tape and then stick a label on them saying DANGER. But once he had them in his hand, it occurred to him to experiment. After all, he had the antidote ready.

Caspar also sped home, with an understandable desire to be out of sight when Douglas arrived. He reached the door of their room to see Johnny holding the tube to his nose and sniffing raucously. Johnny, hearing him, looked up guiltily.

“I’m only experimenting,” he said to Caspar’s accusing face. “And I think Malcolm was lying. That was my third sniff.”

Since the damage seemed to be done, Caspar could only wait. They waited tensely, expecting Johnny to become a Johnny-shaped speck any moment. But nothing happened. In five minutes, Johnny underwent no change at all – except from guilt to annoyance.

“You see!” he said disgustedly. “You can’t believe a word Malcolm says.”

“What do you think he did do?” Caspar said.

They heard Malcolm himself coming upstairs just then, trailing wearily from step to step. They looked at one another and had the same idea at the same moment. Without needing to exchange a word, they got up, crept to the open door, and waited on either side of it out of sight. The moment Malcolm passed the top stair and his shadow fell through the doorway, they darted out and
pounced. There was a squalling, indignant struggle, and they got him into their room. Johnny shut the door and stood with his back to it. Caspar took hold of Malcolm and pinned him by the upper arms against the wall.

“What do you want?” said Malcolm. “Let go, can’t you!”

“When you come clean,” said Caspar. “What did you really do with
Parv. pulv
.?”

“I don’t know. I’m tired. Let go,” said Malcolm.

“Not until you tell us,” said Johnny.

“What makes you think I’m going to tell you?” countered Malcolm.

“Because we won’t let you go until you do,” said Caspar.

There was a short time of deadlock. Malcolm leant defiantly against the wall, and Caspar leant on his arms to hold him there and wondered what he could do to scare Malcolm into confessing. Then Malcolm said, with great loftiness, “You wouldn’t understand if I did tell you. You’ve no idea of system, or controlling your experiments, or even keeping your ideas in order. All you do is muddle about and hope. It’s no wonder you haven’t made the discoveries that I have. I bet you didn’t even realise that it’s always the things on the lower layer that are odd. But I’ve come to that conclusion, because I’m systematic.”

This exasperated Johnny and Caspar. They saw well enough that Malcolm had no intention of telling them what he had done with Parv. pulv. and was just trying to distract their attention.

“Stop waffling,” said Johnny. “And tell us.”

“Can you see any reason,” said Malcolm, “why I should share my discoveries with you, Melchior?”

Johnny, to be quite honest, could see no reason at all. Which meant that Caspar was forced to say, “Because we’re going to make you tell us. What have you found out?”

“Nothing I’m going to tell you,” said Malcolm.

Caspar lifted Malcolm away from the wall and banged him back, so that his irritatingly tidy head thumped against the plaster. “What other chemicals do things?” he asked menacingly.

At that moment, Douglas, outside on the landing, said, “Hey, Malcolm!”

Caspar and Johnny both jumped, because they had not heard Douglas come upstairs. Malcolm looked at Caspar, coolly and jeeringly, and Caspar looked back, daring Malcolm to shout for help.

“Malcolm?” said Douglas again. They waited tensely while Douglas went into the room across the landing and came out again. Then Douglas said, “Oh drat!” and went galloping away downstairs. As soon as he had gone, Caspar felt suddenly tired to death of the whole matter. He wanted to yawn in Malcolm’s face. Instead, he let go of him. Malcolm, with dignity, straightened his tie and went towards the door.

But Johnny at that moment thought of a very good reason why Malcolm should share at least one discovery with them. “You tell us about
Parv. pulv
.,” he said. “You’d never have known anything could happen at all, if Douglas hadn’t seen Gwinny flying.” And he did not move from in front of the door.

Malcolm stopped. There was not so much difference between his size and Johnny’s, and Johnny was burly. “I dare say we’d have worked it out,” he said loftily.

“Yes.
We
,” said Johnny. “Don’t pretend Douglas isn’t helping you.”

“So what?” said Malcolm. “Don’t tell me you’re working entirely alone, Melchior. And there are three of you.”

“But Douglas is older,” said Johnny. “So it’s not fair.”

“Your ages add up to more than ours,” said Malcolm.

Caspar felt more tired than ever. “Oh, let him go, Johnny,” he said. “This is boring.”

Johnny moved reluctantly aside. Malcolm swiftly got his hand to the doorknob. Then he said, “I don’t see I’ve any call to tell you anything. I bet you only discovered the flying powder by mistake and spilt it on Gwinny by accident.”

The mortifying thing was that this was quite true. As Malcolm slipped round the door, Johnny said angrily, “You wait. I’ll discover something you’ve never dreamt of. You needn’t think you’re so clever.” Malcolm shut the door in his face with a bang. Johnny turned round and ploughed feverishly through the construction kits to the chemistry set. He threw himself down beside it and began to scrabble among the comics and toffee bars around it. “The instructions,” he said. “Have you seen the instructions, Caspar?”

“No. Why?” said Caspar, yawning.

“I’ve
got
to find out which tubes were on the bottom layer,” Johnny said desperately. “I’ve got them all mixed up.”

Caspar saw reason in this. They searched fiercely. Johnny found the broken test tube that had held the flying mixture and cut his finger on it. Caspar found nothing but toffee bars and comics, until he thought to lift up the lid of the chemistry set. The outside of it said
Magicator Chemistry by Magicraft. Guaranteed non-toxic, non-explosive
. The inside of the lid said the same, but underneath that were instructions of a sort. Caspar read,
1. Try this experiment with Marble Chips
. “These are no good,” he said. “I did all these at school.”

“No, you fool!” said Johnny, sucking his bleeding finger. “Under your knee.”

Caspar seized the little pamphlet he was kneeling on.
Magicator Chemistry
, it said. But it turned out to be a set of quite ordinary experiments, all of which either he or Johnny had done at school. And nowhere did it give a list of the substances in the set. “This is no good either,” he said, smothering a yawn.

“All right,” Johnny said grimly. “I’ll just have to go through and test each one. I’m not going to be beaten by that stuck up toff, so there!”

By supper time, he had sorted out the chemicals he knew, but by then he was too tired to go on. He was only too glad to trudge downstairs and sit round the table with four other people as tired as he was.

“Good gracious!” said Sally, looking round their white faces and reddened eyes. She knew there was every reason why Douglas should be heavy-eyed and morose, but she could not understand the rest of them. “I hope you’re not all sickening for something.”

“Only sickening in the other sense,” said the Ogre,
with his usual uncanny instinct for wrongdoing. “They were fooling about half the night, that was all.”

“Oh no, Father, I think I really am going down with something,” Malcolm said coolly. “I have a heavy feeling in my head.”

“Serve you right,” said the Ogre.

“And I think there must be something wrong with me too,” Gwinny said hastily. “Because I’m so quiet.”

“Please don’t apologise,” said the Ogre politely. “It’s a welcome change.”

The meal finished in silence both weary and nervous. Though the Ogre said nothing more, Caspar could not help keeping an anxious eye on Douglas. He was even more nervous of him than of the Ogre. When he found Douglas morosely waiting in the hall after supper, it took him some courage not to run away. But all Douglas did was to thrust the Indigo Rubber records at him.

“They’re clean now,” he said. “Mind you keep them that way.” Then he went away upstairs. Caspar, hardly able to believe his good fortune, stood clutching the records and looking after him uncertainly. Douglas leant down over the bannisters. “I haven’t forgotten I owe you,” he said. “If I could keep my eyes open I’d give it you now.”

It was surprising how ready everyone was for bed that night. By nine o’clock, thick silence had fallen on the house. Caspar was just dropping asleep, thinking that he was going to get an all-time low mark in tomorrow’s French test, when Johnny said, irritably and drowsily:

“Do you think Malcolm was lying about the things in the bottom layer?”

Caspar wanted to go to sleep so badly that he said, “I’ll get it out of him tomorrow – if you shut up and don’t say another word.”

It was a rash promise. Johnny held him to it next morning. “I did my bit,” he said. “I didn’t say a word – and I lay awake for nearly a quarter of an hour worrying. Now you go and squidge Malcolm.” Then, seeing how reluctant Caspar was, he added, “Or I won’t tell you a single thing I discover. Ever.”

“Oh, all right!” Caspar said crossly. And, as they heard Douglas bounding downstairs at that moment, he went across the landing there and then.

The door was ajar. Caspar opened the hostilities by doing as Malcolm always did – knocking and going in without waiting for an answer. Malcolm was tying his tie in front of the mirror. Caspar, who rarely looked in a mirror if he could help it, and specially not to tie his tie, felt very scornful.

“What do you want?” said Malcolm.

“Information,” said Caspar. “Were you lying about the things on the bottom layer or not?”

“No,” said Malcolm, and, as he tightened the knot of his tie, he whistled, gently and mockingly,
We Three Kings of Orient Are
.

Caspar of course perceived the insult. “Then if you weren’t, prove it,” he said.

“Why?” said Malcolm, and pursed his lips to whistle again.

“Whistle that again and I’ll knock your head off!” snarled Caspar.

Malcolm smiled maliciously. “Why not, Capsule?”

“And don’t call me that, either!”

“It suits you. Everyone knows you’re a perfect pill,” said Malcolm. Then, just before Caspar had time to explode, he went on patronisingly, “I’ve no objection to proving it, since you’re obviously too stupid to work it out for yourself.”

“Go on then,” said Caspar.

Malcolm left the mirror and opened the glass cupboard, where the chemistry set was neatly laid on a shelf. “See?” he said, lifting the lid. “These are all things we’ve heard of. But underneath,” he said, lifting off the first layer and revealing the second, “you’ve got things even Douglas has never heard of. And most of them don’t react in ordinary tests. Do you follow me?”

“Yes, teacher,” said Caspar. “What does that prove?”

“Well, you don’t think I’m going to test one for you now, before breakfast, do you?” demanded Malcolm.

“Yes,” said Caspar.

“Well, I’m not,” said Malcolm.

“So you were lying? I thought you were,” said Caspar.

“I was
not
!” said Malcolm. “All right. Which one shall I test?”

“This one,” said Caspar, pointing to a bottle labelled
Animal Spirits
.

“That’s a boring one,” said Malcolm. “Nothing happens, even when you taste it, except you feel rather lively for a bit. What about this one?”

He picked up a slender tube called, as far as Caspar could see,
Misc. pulv
.

“What about it?” Caspar said suspiciously.

“I don’t know,” said Malcolm. “I’ve done everything
I can think of with it, and nothing’s happened. The only thing I haven’t done is taste it.”

“Taste it!” said Caspar. “Suppose it’s poison?”

“It says non-toxic,” Malcolm said coolly. “I’m willing taste it, if you’ll agree to taste it too.” He looked patronisingly at Caspar, as if he knew Caspar would not dare.

Caspar thought he saw his game. “If you think you’re going to get out of it that way, you’re making a big mistake,” he said. “All right. Let’s both taste it.”

It was clear Malcolm had hoped to get out of it. He uncorked the tube most unwillingly and said, “It’s going to taste pretty nasty, I think.”

“Hard luck,” said Caspar. “Hand some over.”

Malcolm carefully picked up a little glass shovel and spooned a small quantity of white powder out of the tube and on to Caspar’s palm. Caspar could not help being impressed with the difference between this care and Johnny’s slapdash methods. Then the smell of the powder met his nostrils.

“Eeughk!” he said.

“That’s why I didn’t taste it,” said Malcolm, shovelling the powder on to his own palm. He carefully recorked the tube and put it and the little shovel down. “So if neither of us wants any breakfast, it’ll be your fault. Ready?”

“Ready,” said Caspar, daunted but determined. They both watched one another like cats for any sign of weakness – and of course both would have died rather than show any – as they each raised a stinking hand to his mouth, put out a reluctant tongue and licked up a
mouthful of what was certainly the nastiest taste Caspar had ever come across. The eyes of both watered. It was stronger than onions and bitterer than gall. Both trying to conceal their shudders, they swallowed.