‘Oh, thank you!’ said Rosemary gratefully.
‘What for?’ said Mrs Cantrip sharply. ‘Not that it wasn’t quick of you to spot it for yourself. I’ve always thought you aren’t so milk and water as you look. That affair with the rocking chair, now, clever that was! I suppose you wouldn’t consider taking up the business seriously yourself ? I’d take you on as an apprentice!’
Rosemary shook her head hard. The offer seemed almost a kind one, so she did not say what she really felt about it.
‘Me, Rosemary Brown, to train as a witch!’ she thought indignantly.
‘Ah, if you’d seen the ranting, roaring, good old days, maybe you’d think differently,’ said the old woman. ‘It’s the loneliness that makes it so hard nowadays, to be the only one left. Why I’ve seen as many fly-by-nights on a midsummer’s evening as there are smuts in the room when the chimney’s been smoking. And the air so full of magic that it fair crackled with it! And I’ve seen ’em all go out, one by one, like bubbles on a bowl of water.’
The old woman’s eyes were dim.
‘But Miss Dibdin –’ began Rosemary.
‘Her?’ said Mrs Cantrip with contempt. ‘She can’t so much as whistle a psalm tune backward! No ear for music. And do you know the only bit of magic she ever pulled off?’
‘What?’ asked Rosemary.
‘A bit of invisibility – child’s play. But what does she have to do when half my furniture’s vanished?’
‘What?’ asked Rosemary again, although she thought she knew the answer.
‘Why, lose the book with the counter-spell in it, so that I was forever tripping over things I couldn’t see. Lucky for her she put it right somehow. It was all there again this morning.’
‘How did she do it?’ asked Rosemary curiously.
‘That’s no concern of yours!’ snapped Mrs Cantrip. Her softened mood had gone. ‘Well, don’t keep me gossiping here!’ she said, and, hitching her shawl more firmly around her thin shoulders, turned and disappeared among the throng of shoppers, with her basket over her arm.
Rosemary turned and ran as fast as she could back to Hedgem and Fudge. As she reached the shop it was just striking one o’clock. Albert Flackett’s young lady was hanging a notice on the door which said ‘Closed’.
‘Oh please, I must speak to you!’ she gasped breathlessly. ‘It’s about Mr Flackett!’
The young lady, whose name was Myrtle Jones, tossed her flaxen head. ‘I’m sure I’m not interested in Albert Flackett!’ she said, but the sniff that followed was a sorrowful, not an angry one.
‘But surely you don’t want him to lose his job?’ pleaded Rosemary. ‘And him the only son of his mother. Mrs Flackett’s so proud of him!’
The girl looked at Rosemary shrewdly for a minute as if undecided.
‘Here, come inside,’ she said at last.
The pale green light that filtered through the drawn blinds made it seem a mysterious place. The only things that stood out in the gloom were the two huge bottles that stood on the mahogany partition dividing the window from the shop. The crimson of the red bottle was a little dulled by the green light, but the green liquid glowed clearer and brighter than ever above them.
‘If it’s a message from Albert,’ said Myrtle, ‘you can just tell him from me –’
‘But it’s not a message,’ said Rosemary. ‘He doesn’t know I’ve come. And please, please don’t be angry with him, because it’s all our fault!’
‘Now if this is some more of his nonsense,’ began Myrtle.
‘But it isn’t! Oh, please listen. Now, do you remember the day he was taken ill, he and Mr Fudge took down the big red bottle out of the window?’
‘Yes, yes, I do,’ said the girl. ‘You could have knocked me down with a feather when I saw them doing it. I’ve never seen it happen before.’ She sat down on one of the chairs provided for the customers.
‘Well, that was our prescription, and Albert got it all over his hands when he was pouring it out, and then when he was turning over the pages of the catalogue he kept licking his thumb. Don’t you see, that made him ill!’
‘Poor Bertie!’ said Myrtle in a softened voice. ‘But to refuse to see me, after me and him going steady for three years!’
‘But if you’ll only do what I say, he’ll get better, and you can go on going steady.’
‘All right, ducks,’ said Myrtle suddenly. ‘What do you want me to do?’
‘Give him a teaspoonful of the green liquid from the other bottle!’ said Rosemary. ‘I’ll get the ladder, while you fetch something to put the mixture in, and a spoon to get it out.’
‘Well, things can’t be much worse than they are!’ said Myrtle. ‘Here goes!’
She disappeared behind the glass partition where the dispensing was done. When she came back, Rosemary was already at the top of the steps which she had propped against the partition, and the cut glass stopper of the great bottle was in her hand. A vapour rose from the neck of the bottle, and a sweetish smell which made her head swim filled the darkened shop.
‘Please hold the stopper while I fill the little bottle!’ said Rosemary.
Very carefully she scooped some of the liquid up with the spoon, and with a steady hand emptied it into the bottle. She took six spoonfuls to make sure. By the time it was safely corked and in Myrtle’s pocket, the heady smell was making Rosemary giddy. She pulled herself together and replaced the glass stopper in the huge bottle. Then she climbed a little unsteadily down the ladder and went into the dispensary to wash her hands.
‘It’ll be a new assistant instead of me next week as well, if Mr Fudge finds out about this!’ said Myrtle worriedly.
‘He won’t,’ said Rosemary. ‘If you can give Albert a dose this afternoon he can start work again tomorrow! I must run now, I’m going to be terribly late for dinner!’
26
Council of War
When Rosemary reached home, she was just in time to take John’s dinner in to him on a tray.
‘It’s chops and peas and new potatoes!’ she said as she removed the cover.
‘Good!’ said John. ‘Have you got the cold cure?’
Rosemary nodded and told him about Mrs Cantrip and the green mixture. The idea of Rosemary as the old woman’s apprentice he seemed to think very funny.
‘But I’ve got some news for you, too. The attack will be in two days’ time!’
‘How do you know?’
‘Mr Featherstone came in to see me. He’s staying to lunch. He had seen it announced in the local paper. He said that instead of the two towns being ashamed of a disgraceful piece of ribbon development, they were actually going to celebrate its being finished with what the newspaper called a Friendship Ceremony.’
‘What’s ribbon development?’ asked Rosemary.
‘He said it was building a lot of houses along the roadside without proper planning. Anyway, there’s to be music and speechifying, and he said would we all like to come and see it. Then your mother could celebrate finishing the Julius Caesar clothes.’
‘What did Mummy say?’
‘She laughed and said, “What nonsense,” and that she liked making the acting clothes anyway. But she looked pleased, and it’s all settled. We must let Blandamour know as soon as possible.’
‘She’s coming this afternoon,’ said Rosemary. ‘To see the kittens and say thank you to us. I met Woppit as I was coming home. We had better have a council of war up here.’
It was three o’clock before Blandamour arrived. She was followed by Merbeck and Woppit, and to their surprise Tudge came trotting behind at a respectful distance. He had called to see his sister.
Rosemary had brushed the protesting kittens until their coats gleamed. Calidor’s white socks were spotless. Every whisker was in order. They both sat on John’s bed rehearsing the Kitten’s Welcome to His Parents which all well-bred animals use. It begins: