‘It’s terribly difficult to read,’ he said. ‘The writing is all cramped and spidery. Now then, “Iniquity, invective,”’ he read. ‘Ah, here it is. “Invisibility”.’
‘Go on, read it!’ said Rosemary, and John read out slowly. ‘“First take the pan or pipkin formerly used for the Brew of Invisibility, and scour it thoroughly. Put in it seven eggshells full of water, so clear that it doth appear not to be there, and in the water place some transparent substance that by boiling will consume itself. When the water is at the boil, then by the light of a dwindled candle, seethe it until it shall have disappeared, stirring the meantime widdershins, and intoning this incantation…”
‘Don’t let’s bother about the incantation now,’ went on John. ‘What does “widdershins” mean?’
‘Widdershins means counterclockwise, like this,’ said Rosemary, and she stirred an imaginary saucepan.
‘I don’t think it does,’ said John. ‘It means the other way.’
‘No, this way!’ said Rosemary impatiently.
‘I bet it doesn’t,’ said John. ‘And what does “intoning” mean?’
‘It means singing, like this,’ and she proceeded to show him. ‘More or less li-i-i-ke this, like they do in chur-ur-urch!’
She stood up the better to show what stirring widdershins meant and intoned. ‘And anyway, I thi-i-i-ink we’d better go home to di-i-i-inner!’
She broke off as a soothing voice behind her said, ‘Yes, dearie, I should. The very best thing you can do!’
She turned around. Looking up at her were three of the mothers.
‘Poor little thing! Talking to herself and waving her arms about,’ said one. ‘I noticed her when she came in, and I thought then she looked a bit queer,’ said another.
‘I don’t look queer!’ said Rosemary indignantly.
‘They ought not to let her out alone!’ said a little old woman with a bulging shopping basket. ‘They do say that talking to yourself is –’
‘But I wasn’t talking to myself,’ Rosemary broke in.
‘Then who were you talking to, dear?’ said the first woman, in a voice that was meant to soothe, but only maddened Rosemary.
‘Why, to John!’ she said unwarily. ‘He’s sitting beside me on the steps here, only you can’t see him, he’s invisible. Oh, don’t pull my skirt!’ she went on, ignoring John’s warning tweak, and pushing away the hand that no one could see.
A short fat woman nodded to her tall friend. ‘I thought so, poor kid,’ she said. ‘I’ll go and fetch a taxi, and you and Mrs Podbury see she doesn’t come to any harm while I’m gone. Look after baby, Ida!’ she called over her shoulder, and bustled off.
By this time a crowd of people had collected from nowhere, as crowds do, surrounding the statue and agreeing that it was a shame and that something ought to be done about it.
‘Now you’ve done it!’ said John under cover of the hum of discussion.
‘Whatever shall we do?’ said Rosemary desperately. Her face was red and her voice shook, but nothing would have made her give way to tears in front of so many people all oozing with unwanted sympathy.
‘I don’t know,’ whispered John. ‘But I’ll stand by you!’ and the hand he slipped into hers gave a heartening squeeze.
From their vantage point on the steps they could see over the heads of the crowd. A taxi had stopped just outside the entrance, and the short fat mother was hurrying toward them.
‘Somehow we’ve got to create a diversion!’ said John.
‘Whatever’s that?’ asked Rosemary.
‘You’ll soon see!’ answered John. ‘Here, give me the saucepan!’
‘For goodness’ sake, don’t make somebody else invisible!’ said Rosemary in alarm.
‘Not somebody, something!’ said John from between tight lips. ‘It’s the only way!’
Mrs Podbury was advancing from the crowd.
‘Now just tell me where you live, dear, and we’ll take you home in a nice taxi!’ she said in a cooing voice.
But Rosemary did not have to answer. With a twist of his wrist John tipped the remaining green liquid over the marble statue. There was a little hiss, and suddenly the steps were there, the pedestal was there, but the statue of Sir Bartle Boole, J.P., had vanished into thin air.
There was a moment’s pause and then a gasp rose from the crowd, which wavered and fell back.
‘I think it’s time we went home to dinner!’ said the short fat mother faintly, and seizing her pram in one hand and the protesting Ida in the other, hurried away.
It suddenly seemed that no one in the crowd wanted to meet the eye of anyone else.
‘Quick!’ said John as the crowd began to melt. ‘Now’s our chance! Scram!’
Together they ran for the gate. Rosemary looked back once. The knot of people had disappeared as completely as the statue of Sir Bartle Boole, J.P. They dashed past the taxi, whose driver was looking angrily around for his fare, down the road and around the corner as fast as they could go.
‘Let’s go home!’ panted John, ‘before anything else happens! What a morning!’
17
Adelaide Row
When they reached home, without a word John and Rosemary made for the Green Cave. Rosemary flopped down with a sigh of relief. She could see where John was sitting by the sudden flattening of grass and fallen leaves beside her. A couple of beetles scuttled away from his invisible weight, protesting in shrill, startled voices.
‘I’m sorry we disturbed you!’ said Rosemary.
‘Nice manners! Nice manners!’ chirruped a sparrow as it hopped on to the next bush.
‘Now then,’ said John. ‘I’ve been doing some pretty hard thinking. We’ve got so many problems to solve that we shall just have to take them as they come. The first is, what are we to say to your mother about me? I can’t go in to dinner like this!’
Rosemary frowned.
‘Couldn’t you send a note to say you’ve been called away on urgent business?’ she suggested.
‘Oh, be your age, Rosie!’ said John. ‘You know very well that your mother would want to know what the urgent business was. And if you told her, she wouldn’t believe a word of it. I shouldn’t blame her, either.’
‘Well, supposing… I know! Go to the telephone box at the end of the road, ring up the Williamses in the flat below, and ask if you can speak to Mum. All you need do is remind her that you were going to see your aunt one day, and would it matter if you did not come home for dinner, and then ring off quickly before she asks awkward questions. I’ve got tuppence.’
John had a penny, and two halfpennies which a kindly passer-by changed for them. Rosemary went with him to the call box. She watched the receiver apparently leap into the air and remain suspended, as John clamped it against his ear. She heard the pennies drop and saw the dial whizzing around of its own accord. After a pause the receiver floated down again and the door suddenly burst open, bumping her painfully on the nose.
‘Sorry,’ said John. ‘I forgot you couldn’t see I was coming out. It’s all right. Your mother didn’t seem to mind a bit. But you’d better hurry up because dinner has been ready for half an hour and it’s spoiling. It’s my favourite, steak and kidney pie and chocolate blancmange. Just my luck.’
‘I’ll bring you some to the greenhouse,’ said Rosemary, ‘as soon as I can. You’d better see if Woppit has had any message from Blandamour.’
It was rather an uncomfortable meal, spent in heading her mother off the subject of John’s sudden passionate desire to see an aunt of whom he was not usually very fond. After dinner, Rosemary was just putting a generous helping on a plate for John when her mother said, ‘Really, darling, I don’t think we can feed Woppit on steak and kidney pie! I’ve put some fish scraps on the cracked dish in the meat safe for her. Wash the dishes for me, dear, will you? I’ve promised to go around to old Mrs Hobby to fit her for a new summer frock. You know she can’t get out much now. I’m afraid you’ll have to see to your own tea, darling. I hope you won’t be lonely.’