[277] "Waif," Charmain said, "go small. Now. I order you."
[278] Waif sadly wagged the tip of her monstrous tail and stayed the same size.
[279] "If she's magic," Peter said, "she can probably turn herself back if she wants to."
[280] "Oh, shut up!" Charmain snapped at him. "What did you think you were trying to do anyway? No one can drink scalding water."
[281] Peter glowered at her from under the twisted, dripping ends of his hair. "I wanted a cup of tea," he said. "You make tea with boiling water."
[282] Charmain had never made tea in her life. She shrugged. "Do you really?" She raised her face to the ceiling. "Great-Uncle William," she said, "how do we get a hot drink in this place?"
[283] The kindly voice spoke again. "In the kitchen, you tap the table and say 'Tea,' my dear. In the living room, tap the trolley in the corner and say 'Afternoon Tea.' In your bedroom—"
[284] Neither Peter nor Charmain waited to hear about the bedroom. They dived forward and slammed the bathroom door, opened it again—Charmain giving Peter a stern push to the left—and jammed themselves through it into the kitchen, turned round, shut the door, opened it again, and finally arrived in the living room, where they looked eagerly around for the trolley. Peter spotted it over in the corner and reached it ahead of Charmain. "Afternoon Tea!" he shouted, hammering mightily upon its empty, glass-covered surface. "Afternoon Tea! Afternoon Tea! Aftern—"
[285] By the time Charmain got to him and seized his flailing arm, the trolley was crowded with pots of tea, milk jugs, sugar bowls, cups, scones, dishes of cream, dishes of jam, plates of hot buttered toast, piles of muffins, and a chocolate cake.
A drawer slid out of the end of it, full of knives, spoons, and forks. Charmain and Peter, with one accord, dragged the trolley over to the musty sofa and settled down to eat and drink. After a minute, Waif put her huge head round the door, sniffing. Seeing the trolley, she shoved a bit and arrived in the living room too, where she crawled wistfully and mountainously over to the sofa and put her enormous hairy chin on the back of it behind Charmain. Peter gave her a distracted look and passed her several muffins, which she ate in one mouthful, with huge politeness.
[286] A good half hour later, Peter lay back and stretched. "That was great," he said. "At least we won't starve. Wizard Norland," he added experimentally, "how do we get lunch in this house?"
There was no reply.
[287] "He only answers me," Charmain said, a trifle smugly. "And I'm not going to ask now. I had to deal with a lubbock before you came and I'm exhausted. I'm going to bed."
[288] "What are lubbocks?" Peter asked. "I think one killed my father."
[289] Charmain did not feel up to answering him. She got up and went to the door.
[290] "Wait," Peter said. "How do we get rid of the stuff on this trolley?"
[291] "No idea," said Charmain. She opened the door.
[292] "Wait, wait, wait!" Peter said, hurrying after her. "Show me my bedroom first."
[293] I suppose I'll have to, Charmain thought. He can't tell left from right. She sighed. Unwillingly, she shoved Peter in among the bubbles that were still storming into the kitchen, thicker than ever, so that he could collect his knapsack, and then steered him left, back through the door to where the bedrooms were. "Take the third one along," she said.
[294] "That one's mine and the first one's Great-Uncle William's. But there's miles of them, if you want a different one.
Good night," she added, and went into the bathroom.
[295] Everything in there was frozen.
"Oh, well," Charmain said.
[296] By the time she got to her bedroom and into her somewhat tea-stained nightdress, Peter was out in the corridor, shouting, "Hey! This toilet's frozen over!" Bad luck! Charmain thought. She got into bed and was asleep almost at once.
[297] About an hour later, she dreamed that she was being sat on by a woolly mammoth. "Get off, Waif," she said. "You're too big." After this she dreamed that the mammoth slowly got off her, grumbling under its breath, before she went off into other, deeper dreams.
[298] Chapter Five IN WHICH CHARMAIN RECEIVES HER ANXIOUS PARENT
[299] When Charmain woke, she discovered that Waif had planted her vast head on the bed, across Charmain's legs. The rest of Waif was piled on the floor in a hairy white heap that filled most of the rest of the room.
[300] "So you can't go smaller on your own," Charmain said. "I'll have to think of something."
[301] Waif 's answer was a series of giant wheezings, after which she appeared to go to sleep again. Charmain, with difficulty, dragged her legs out from under Waif 's head and edged round Waif 's vast body finding clean clothes and getting into them. When she came to do her hair, Charmain discovered that all the hairpins she usually put it up with seemed to have vanished, probably during her dive off the cliff. All she had left was a ribbon. Mother always insisted that respectable girls needed to have their hair in a neat knot on the top of their heads. Charmain had never worn her hair any other way.
[302] "Oh, well," she said to her reflection in the neat little mirror, "Mother's not here, is she?" And she did her hair in a fat plait over one shoulder and fastened it with the ribbon. Like that, she thought her reflection looked nicer than usual, fuller in the face and less thin and grumpy. She nodded at her reflection and picked her way around Waif to get to the bathroom.
[303] To her relief, the bathroom had thawed overnight. The room was full of soft dripping sounds from water dewing all the pipes, but nothing else seemed to be wrong until Charmain tried the taps. All four of them ran ice-cold water, no matter how long they ran for.
[304] "I didn't want a bath anyway," Charmain said, as she went out into the corridor.
[305] There was no sound from Peter. Charmain remembered Mother telling her that boys always were hard to wake in the morning. She did not let this worry her. She opened the door and turned left into the kitchen, into solid foam. Clots of foam and large single bubbles sailed past her into the corridor.
[306] "Damnation!" Charmain said. She put her head down and her arms across her head and plowed into the room. It was as hot in there as her father's bake house when he was baking for a big order. "Phew!" she said. "I suppose it takes days to use up a cake of soap." After that she said nothing else, because her mouth filled with soapy froth when she opened it. Bubbles worked up her nose until she sneezed, causing a small foamy whirlwind. She collided with the table and heard another teapot fall down, but she plowed on until she ran into the laundry bags and heard the saucepans rattle on top of them. Then she knew where she was. She spared one hand from her face in order to fumble for the sink and then along the sink until she felt the back door under her fingers. She groped for the latch—for a moment she thought that had vanished in the night, until she realized it was on the other edge of the door—and finally flung the door open. Then she stood gulping in deep, soapy breaths and blinking her running, smarting, soap-filled eyes into a beautiful mild morning.
[307] Bubbles sailed out past her in crowds. As her eyes cleared, Charmain stood admiring the way big shiny bubbles caught the sunlight as they soared against the green slopes of the mountains. Most of them, she noticed, seemed to pop when they got to the end of the yard, as if there was an invisible barrier there, but some sailed on and up and up as if they would go on forever. Charmain followed them up with her eyes, past brown cliffs and green slopes. One of those green slopes must be that meadow where she had met the lubbock, but she was unable to tell which. She let her eyes go on to the pale blue sky above the peaks. It was a truly lovely day.
[308] By this time there was a steady, shimmering stream of bubbles pouring out of the kitchen. When Charmain turned to look, the room was no longer solid foam, but there were still bubbles everywhere and more piling out of the fireplace.