‘Well, that is not much use to us,’ said the Occupier irritably.
‘Don’t be cross with them, Bill,’ said the girl. It was their friend Molly. ‘Where is your mother, dear? Do you think we could possibly persuade her to help us? I feel so desperate that I could brave asking anybody!’
‘She is watching the dancing display. I’m sure she would help,’ said Rosemary. ‘Let’s go and ask her.’
She and Molly went off together in the direction of the sound of the tinny piano, and John was left standing awkwardly with the actors. Three men who had been sitting disconsolately on a couple of dress baskets, got up and sauntered off, and the two girls who were presumably the ham-handed Megs and Sara went on sorting clothes in the corner.
John followed the Occupier on to the little porch, where they both looked anxiously after Molly and Rosemary.
‘I say,’ said John. ‘You have still got the witch’s hat, haven’t you?’
‘Good heavens!’ said the Occupier, whose name was really Bill. ‘You’re not going to start that again, are you?’
‘You did say we could have it, you know,’ said John desperately, ‘when we had collected everything else for the Magic, and we have. Everything. The broom, the cauldron, the book of spells, and a high old time we had getting them, I can tell you!’
There was an awkward silence, during which Bill lit a cigarette. They were both relieved when Molly and Rosemary arrived accompanied by Mrs Brown.
Molly was talking volubly, and Rosemary was grinning from ear to ear, and her mother was saying‘I see’, and ‘I think I could’.
‘It’s all right!’ called Rosemary. ‘Mummy is going to help! I knew she would,’ she added confidently. ‘Now you won’t have to worry.’
The Occupier shook Mrs Brown warmly by the hand.‘My dear Mrs Lathero…’
‘Brown!’ whispered John hurriedly.
‘… Mrs Brown. I can’t thank you enough…’
‘Thank me when we have got it done,’ smiled Mrs Brown. ‘We shall need every minute we can get.’ Then, turning to Molly, ‘Perhaps it would be quicker if I could cut out the clothes on the people who are going to wear them. We needn’t bother about such refinements as hems.’
‘What can I do?’ asked the Occupier humbly.
‘Go away and leave us alone,’ said Molly firmly. ‘Your clothes were not left behind, thank goodness, so we shan’t need you. We have exactly one hour and twenty minutes in which to do it all in! Come on Megs, fetch Harry and Adrian to be fitted. Sara, help us to carry these things upstairs to the upper floor. We had better do it up there.’
Rosemary nudged John.‘Have you asked him?’ she whispered. But the Occupier’s sharp ears heard her.
‘What persistent youngsters you are! Yes, he has asked me.’
‘Look here, sir,’ said John. ‘We know that you bought the hat, and that it is a jolly rare thing. We don’t expect you to give it us. But won’t you lend it just for half an hour, so that we can do the spell now? Then we would never bother you again.’
They waited breathlessly. The young man blew out a cloud of smoke; then he stubbed out his cigarette.
‘All right,’ he said at last. ‘You win. I’ll lend you the hat for half an hour, but you must let me come with you to see fair play. I shan’t be needed here for a bit, so let’s go and fetch it. It isn’t being used today, so it is in the property van behind the greenhouses. Lead on, my young Witch of Endor!’
‘Right,’ said John. ‘You go with him and get the hat, Rosie, and I’ll go to the car and fetch the things. Meet you behind the glasshouses as soon as I can.’
‘What things?’ asked Bill.
This was better, thought Rosemary, and, tucking her hand in his arm, she told him the whole story: how they had searched for the cauldron, about the Wishing Magic and the china, and how they had found the Book of Spells and so nearly lost the withered plait of creepers. She had only just finished by the time they had reached the van. The young man disappeared inside it. Presently he called down,‘Catch!’ Rosemary held out her arms and something black and furry landed in them. It was the Hat at last!
‘The moths have had a regular banquet off some of it,’ he said cheerfully as he jumped down again. ‘Pretty indigestible, I should think, witch’s hat. Hallo, here is John!’ Coming down the path was John with the cauldron in one hand and the broom in the other, and Carbonel trotting sedately beside him. When the cat saw the dilapidated Hat he gave a little ‘Purrup!’
‘Well,’ said Bill, ‘he is certainly a splendid animal. But I can’t hear him talking.’ And he laughed in a bless-your-little-fancies way.
‘That is because you aren’t holding the broomstick. Here you are, sir,’ said John, and he pushed the wooden handle towards the young man so that he, too, could hold it.
‘Do him good,’ said Carbonel. ‘Too cocky by far, he is.’
The Occupier started violently.
‘Do you know, I really did think I heard the cat speak!’ he said.
‘I did,’ said Carbonel drily. ‘I said, you are too cocky by far.’
‘Good heavens!’
‘It is a bit upsetting at first,’ said Rosemary kindly, ‘but you soon get used to it. I dare say it is harder for you, being grownup, I mean.’
‘Well, we aren’t here to make polite conversation,’ said Carbonel. ‘I noticed a small enclosure behind that asparagus bed, with a bonfire burning there already, and no one about. Follow me.’
They all followed, the Occupier, as though in a dream, clutching the broom, and unable to take his eyes off the black cat.
The enclosure was made by a privet hedge which hid a small tool shed, a heap of grass cuttings, and a small, smouldering bonfire.
Rosemary removed the precious withered plait from between the pages of the book of spells. Then she propped the book up against a wheelbarrow.
‘You can read it if you like,’ she said to the young man. ‘But not aloud, because it is a Silent Magic.’
With a dazed expression he turned his fascinated eyes from Carbonel.
‘I say, what about a pipkin?’ said Rosemary. ‘It says “fill the cauldron with seven pipkins of puddle water”.’
‘What is a pipkin?’ asked John.
‘A small earthenware jar,’ said Carbonel. ‘A flower pot with the hole stopped up will do. Rosemary, you can see to that, while someone else gets the fire going.’ He turned to the dazed young man. ‘That may as well be your job.’
‘Yes, yes, of course!’ said the Occupier, and at once feverishly began to collect twigs and sticks which he pushed into the smouldering fire, while John got down on his knees and blew on the embers. Rosemary rolled up her handkerchief and pushed it into the hole at the bottom of a flower pot. It took rather a long time to find enough puddle water to fill the flower pot seven times, but by then the fire had been coaxed into blazing quite merrily. At last the three legs of the cauldron were supported above the flames on two large stones and an old brick, and Rosemary put on the Hat. It was much too big, and only by bending her ears down could she keep it up at all. They removed the shoe-bag from the end of the broom. In spite of their care a number of twigs had fallen off inside the bag. In silence they knelt in a ring, waiting for the cauldron to boil. The sounds of the f?te driftedin to them, very faint and far away. A great bumble bee buzzed heavily by, intent on his own business, and a thrush was tapping a snail shell insistently on the brick path outside the enclosure. Then the water began to bubble. Rosemary took a deep breath.
‘Stand back!’ said Carbonel to the others. ‘And remember, if you love me, do not make a sound. Rosemary, whatever happens, I implore you not to cry out!’
She nodded. The young man sat down heavily on the wheelbarrow. Rosemary straddled the broom. Although her mouth had been dry with nervousness before, now she was wearing the Hat she felt quite calm and mistress of the situation. The broom quivered expectantly beneath her, and she patted it softly.