‘Are the kittens all right?’ asked Rosemary, between mouthfuls of fish pie.
‘Right as rain,’ said John. ‘But I think we ought to feed them as soon as possible,’ he went on, winking violently again, hoping that Rosemary would understand that he wanted to talk to her privately.
They had to help wash up after supper, but as soon as the front door closed behind them, Rosemary told John her adventures. He listened open-mouthed.
‘I was in such a tizzy to get away from Mrs Cantrip’s garden that I forgot I wouldn’t be able to explain how I came to be in my bedroom without going through the sitting room. We shall have to think of some way to hide the chair, or Mum will want to know where it came from.’
‘Smuggle it down to the Green Cave for the moment, and cover it with leaves,’ John suggested. ‘But I’ve got something to tell you!’
When John described the conversation he had overheard when he was hiding in the half-built house, it was Rosemary’s turn to be impressed.
‘Thank goodness they didn’t catch you!’ she said. ‘Well, it’s quite clear that Mrs Cantrip and that Dibdin woman are hatching some plot with the Queen of the Broomhurst cats. Tudge said that trouble was brewing.’
‘And he thought it was against Fallowhithe!’
‘If they’re meeting tomorrow night on top of the tallest building in Broomhurst, it must be on that new ten-storey block of offices that Mr Featherstone told us about. I’d give my boots for us to be behind a chimney so that we could listen to what they’re up to.’
‘John!’ said Rosemary excitedly. ‘Why shouldn’t we go?’
‘But they’re meeting in the middle of the night. How could we get on to the roof ? The place would be locked up!’
‘Well, said Rosemary, ‘as Mrs Cantrip said, “there’s other ways than walking”!’
‘John whistled. ‘Do you mean the rocking chair? Do you think it could carry us both?’
‘We could ask it in the morning. I think it’s had enough for one day. Come on, let’s feed the kittens.’
It was growing dusk when they reached the greenhouse. When they opened the door an unexpected sight greeted them. Blandamour was sitting on an upturned flower pot, and at her feet were the two kittens, both sitting up as straight and still as their royal mother.
Woppit looked on with her head on one side and a doting expression on her brindled face. ‘Hush!’ she said to John and Rosemary. ‘The little darlings is saying their lessons!’
In small, piping voices the kittens were repeating:
‘No paw or whisker in the dish,
Whether meat or fowl or fish…’
Calidor’s voice faltered when a delicious tendril of haddock smell wafted from the plate Rosemary held and tickled his nose.
‘Calidor, pay attention!’ said Blandamour. ‘Each awkward…’
The black kitten sighed, but went on:
‘Each awkward bone be sure to gnaw
Upon the plate, not on the floor.
Lap your milk from out the platter
From the edge, and do not scatter
Drops from either bowl or mug
On quarried floor or silken rug.
Steady lapping, rhythmic, quiet,
Is correct for milky diet.
After food, wash paws and face,
And don’t forget to purr your grace.’
‘Very good, my children. Now you may eat,’ said Blandamour. ‘But remember what you have repeated. Greetings to you, John and Rosemary. My children are well, and if they are closely confined, no doubt you have your reasons!’
‘We certainly have, Your Majesty!’ said John. ‘It’s like this…’
Blandamour listened in silence. Only once did she interrupt to summon a grizzled old tabby cat with four white stockings who was sitting in the shadow of the bushes outside.
‘Merbeck, my cousin and chief councillor,’ she said. ‘He too must hear your tale.’
When the children had finished, she bowed her beautiful white head.
‘You have done well and bravely, and I am grateful. But it will need more courage still to fly to Cat Country and overhear Grisana’s schemings. It may even be dangerous. Merbeck, should we not send a pair of animals instead?’
Merbeck shook his grizzled head. ‘I think not, Your Majesty. Grisana is wily in her wickedness. Her sentry will be on the alert for foreign cats, but flying humans they will not expect.’
‘Couldn’t I go too, oh, couldn’t I?’ asked Calidor, standing with his short legs spread out and his tail waving angrily. ‘I’d show ’em!’
‘Me too!’ said Pergamond shrilly.
‘No, my son,’ said Blandamour. ‘One day when you are older you will have many chances to prove how brave you are. Until we find out Grisana’s plans, we do not know where the danger lies.’
‘Therefore, we must go warily and keep our eyes and ears open. Above all, guard the royal kittens!’ said Merbeck. ‘Tomorrow we will come again and hear what you have discovered, and may good luck go with you!’
11
Cat Country
Rosemary kept her promise to the chair the next morning. While John mended the lock of the greenhouse, she carried dusters and furniture polish down to the Green Cave. She rubbed away until her arms ached and the curves of the dark wood of the chair gleamed with little, bright reflections.
‘The Queen herself really would be proud to sit in you now, just as I promised,’ said Rosemary, sitting back on her heels to admire her handiwork.
The chair gave a little rock which seemed to show it was pleased. Or had she caught it with her duster?
‘And I know a real queen who might come and sit in you,’ went on Rosemary. There was another little rock. ‘A cat queen!’
The rocking stopped abruptly.
‘A beautiful, snow-white queen who needs your help,’ she went on hurriedly. ‘Dear rocking chair, you carried me home so splendidly, won’t you help us again? You see –’ Once more she explained about the meeting on the tallest building in Broomhurst.
‘Roofs and walls are Cat Country at night,’ she said. ‘The place will be locked. Our only way to get there is by flying, if only you will take us. I’ll make you –’ she thought quickly – ‘an antimacassar! You know, one of those things to hang over the back – an embroidered one. I promise!’
Rosemary held her breath. There was a moment’s pause, and then the chair gave another little rock.
‘I knew I could rely on you!’ she whispered, and ran back to the flat to get her nightdress case. It would make an excellent chair-back, she felt. Armed with needles and coloured thread, she went back to the greenhouse to tell John of her success.
It was beginning to rain. Woppit was asleep in a corner, her untidy whiskers twitching as she chased dream mice around a shadowy dream cellar. The kittens were playing with something that rolled obligingly round the floor, and John was whistling through his teeth and fiddling with the lock which he had taken to pieces.
‘Good!’ he said absently, when Rosemary told him that she thought the rocking chair would take them.
It was almost cosy in the greenhouse, with the raindrops plopping on the glass roof. They worked away in friendly silence. Rosemary was sewing ‘R.C.’ for Rocking Chair in green chain stitch on the nightdress case. She looked up and bit off her thread. ‘Can you really put it together again?’
John looked with a puzzled frown at the bits of lock which he had laid out on the floor.