She struggled sleepily out of the ball in which she always curled herself when she went to sleep, and sat up, suddenly wide awake.
‘John, is it you? Have you got Calidor?’
‘I’ve got him right enough,’ said John, and a furry, purring pressure against her side confirmed it.
‘Oh, Calidor, I’m so glad!’
She picked up the kitten and hugged him. ‘Now we’ve got you both safely back, and we needn’t worry about you any more!’
‘Well, you can just start worrying about me instead!’ said John, and he made the unmistakable noise of someone trying to suppress a heavy sneeze.
‘I’ve got an awful cold, through going about in soaking clothes. I’ll tell you all about it later. I don’t want to be invisible for one minute longer. We’ve got to work out the counter-spell – now! If I’m going to be ill, how on earth can a doctor sound my chest if he can’t see it?’ he went on gloomily.
Rosemary jumped out of bed with the kitten in her arms.
‘As a matter of fact, I got all the things ready just in case,’ she said as she laid Calidor gently down in the box at the foot of her bed, where Pergamond lay sleeping. ‘I had to do something to keep myself from worrying about you. It’s all under the bed.’
The white shape that was Rosemary’s nightgown went on its knees by the bed and dragged something out from beneath. When John switched on the light, he saw it was a large tin tray. In the centre was one acid drop, an empty eggshell and a candle end. At least that was all that Rosemary could see. John could also see the book of magic and the saucepan that had held the invisible mixture.
‘Good old Rosie!’ said John.
‘I cleaned the saucepan as best I could with wire wool,’ went on Rosemary. ‘You’d better check up on everything from the book because of course I couldn’t read it. I think it would be all right to brew it in the kitchen – Mother’s room is at the other end of the passage. I don’t think she’d hear.’
They crept into the kitchen and put the tray on the table.
Rosemary heard the sound of pages being hastily turned.
‘Here we are! “Counter-spell of Invisibility”,’ he read. ‘Now then,’ he went on in a preoccupied voice, ‘it says, “the moon must be on the wane”. Well, that’s all right, I noticed when I was coming home. And it must be done in the original saucepan. That’s all right, too. Now then, “Put in the saucepan or pipkin seven eggshells full of water, so clear that it doth appear not to be there.” You couldn’t have anything much clearer than Fallowhithe District Council’s tap water, so here goes!’
Rosemary watched while apparently unaided the eggshell filled itself seven times from the tap over the sink, and seven times emptied itself into what she guessed must be the invisible saucepan.
‘“And in it place some transparent substance that by boiling will consume itself,”’ he read. ‘Is that what the acid drop is for?’
‘It’s nearly transparent, and it will melt when the water boils,’ said Rosemary and dropped it in the water.
‘“Then, by the light of a dwindled candle –”’ went on John.
Rosemary stood the candle end in a saucer which she put on the plate rack above the cooker, and lit it with a match.
‘If it goes on dwindling too quickly I shan’t be able to see to read the incantation, so hurry up and light the gas under the saucepan.’
There was a plop as the ring of blue gas jets shot out, and curled around the bottom of the saucepan.
‘Here’s a spoon to stir it with,’ said Rosemary. ‘I looked up “widdershins” in the dictionary and it said it meant counterclockwise.’ She tactfully did not point out that that was what she had said in their unfortunate argument that morning.
John turned off the light, and at once the trim little kitchen was filled with the dark, wavering shadows cast by the candle flame. Already they could see by a ring of bubbles that the water was beginning to boil. Then the acid drop began to leap and bounce on the bottom of the pan. The water boiled furiously, and as it boiled it began to evaporate, and the dancing acid drop grew smaller and smaller and smaller. John watched, fascinated.
‘Go on! Stir, and intone the incantation!’ said Rosemary.
It is not easy to stir a saucepan widdershins and read aloud from cramped, old-fashioned writing by the light of a guttering candle end, but John managed somehow. This is what he intoned:
‘Vapours curdle and congeal,
Shadows thicken and reveal
Solid shapes to see and feel!
Hocus pocus
Into focus,
Invisibility – repeal!’
As he said the word ‘repeal’ the spoon twisted itself from his hand and fell with a clatter to the floor; the last drop of moisture dried up in the pan with a sizzle, and by the light of the candle, which suddenly flared up, Rosemary saw a strange sight. She was standing staring where she knew John must be, in front of the cooker, between herself and the kitchen dresser. And as the candle flared up she saw a pale, shadowy form begin to appear. She could see through it the knobs on the dresser drawer and the cups hanging on their hooks, but as she watched, the cups and the knobs grew fainter and fainter and the shape of John more solid. Then the candle went out as suddenly as it had flared up.
‘Put the light on, Rosie!’ said John in a matter-of-fact voice.
She rushed to the switch, and as the prosaic light from the hanging bulb flooded the little kitchen, she saw John standing there, firm, untransparent, hair on end and dirtier than she had ever seen him, but visible.
‘Am I all right again?’ he asked anxiously.
‘Right as rain!’ said Rosemary beaming from ear to ear, and she seized his nearest hand and shook it up and down like a pump handle to show how pleased she was.
A sudden smell of burning sugar made them look around. The gas was full on under the empty saucepan, which was now visible for anyone to see. So was the book which John had propped up against the kettle behind the lighted ring. Whether the change to visibility had affected its balance, I do not know, but it had fallen forward on its face, with the blue flame of the lighted ring licking at one corner; already the ancient paper, dry as tinder, was well alight.
‘Quick, put it in the sink and turn the tap on it!’ said Rosemary.
John picked up the book and rushed across to the sink, and as he ran, the wind of his going fanned the flames so that they streamed behind him. Twisting red, green and purple flames sent out a shower of many coloured sparks, and though the sparks fell on John’s face and hands, he did not feel them. Rosemary had already run to the sink where she had put in the plug and turned both taps full on. As the book fell in the water with a hiss, a column of jagged purple flame shot up to the ceiling and went out, leaving nothing behind but a little plume of oily, evil-smelling smoke.
‘What queer-looking flames!’ said Rosemary.
‘Well, it was a queer sort of book!’ said John.
The charred remains of the book bobbed sluggishly up and down in the sink. He lifted it out gingerly.
‘The cover isn’t too bad,’ said Rosemary hopefully. ‘But I don’t think anyone will be able to read what is left of the inside.’
‘I’m glad it’s Miss Dibdin who has to take it back to the reference library, and not me!’ said John. ‘I suppose we’d better keep all there is of it.’
They fished out all they could, and drained it as well as they were able in a colander.
‘It can go under my bed till the morning,’ said Rosemary. ‘But John, I do so want to hear all your adventures!’
John stifled a noise that was half a yawn and half a sneeze. ‘All I want is to go to bed and sleep and sleep. I’ll tell you about it in the morning. It’s been quite a day!’