The two kittens trotted off, one on either side of Tudge, listening eagerly. Before he went through the door, he turned and winked broadly.
Woppit tossed her head and bowed at the same time, hoping that this would show both respect for Queen Blandamour and disapproval of her brother’s low manners. Then she followed the kittens.
‘I suppose we couldn’t help when the attack comes?’ asked John.
Blandamour shook her head. ‘That would be very unwise. Grisana cheated by enrolling the help of Mrs Cantrip. You have done for us what we could never have done alone. If they must quarrel, cats against cats and humans against humans, that is the order of things.’
‘If we can arrange for you to be present we will send a message,’ said Merbeck. ‘But now we must go. There is so much to do!’
27
The Friendship Ceremony
Mrs Brown kept John in bed all the next day, but before breakfast on Friday, Rosemary went to fetch the milk. She ran quickly downstairs, and as she picked up the two bottles the milkman had left for Mrs Brown, a young cat with a glossy black coat and a white face trotted briskly up to her.
‘Name of Rosemary?’ he asked.
‘Yes, that’s me.’
‘Message for you from Councillor Merbeck,’ he said importantly. Then he looked around cautiously and lowered his voice. ‘The attack is planned for midnight tonight. Be at the Green Cave at half past eleven.’
‘Yes, but…’ began Rosemary.
‘Can’t stop, too much to do!’ said the black cat and hurried away.
‘Good oh!’ said John when she told him. He was dressed and making the toast for breakfast in front of the gas fire in the sitting room. ‘I hoped they wouldn’t forget us. I do want to be in on the attack.’
‘I don’t think I want to be there much,’ said Rosemary. ‘But on the other hand I should be miserable at home not knowing what was happening.’
‘Anyway, we’ve got this Friendship affair this afternoon,’ said John.
It was due to begin at half past two. At two o’clock, after a very merry lunch, for Mr Featherstone had joined them again, John carried down the picnic basket. They were going to make an outing of it.
‘Why, Mummy!’ said Rosemary, as her mother got into Mr Featherstone’s ancient car, ‘what a lovely new dress!’
‘I think you look gorgeous!’ said John.
‘I couldn’t put it better myself,’ said Mr Featherstone gravely. ‘Gorgeous is the word!’
Mrs Brown went quite pink, but she laughed and said she was sure it was time they started.
When they reached the new houses of Broomhurst Road, there was no doubt where the ceremony was to be held. A long row of cars was parked on either side, and a loud speaker van was playing ‘Land of Hope and Glory’. The completed houses stretched in an unbroken line. Nearly all of them had curtains at the windows, and the corner where John had hidden from Mrs Cantrip behind the half-built wall already housed a washing machine.
A crowd had collected round the one unfinished part, a short stretch of garden wall. Behind it stood the Mayors of Broomhurst and Fallowhithe in their mayoral robes, supported by a number of important local people. When the loud speaker had finished playing, the Mayor of Fallowhithe made a long speech about what an historic occasion it was for both towns and one which he hoped would bind them more firmly together in a bond of friendship and healthy rivalry. Then the Mayor of Broomhurst replied in much the same way. The speeches were rather long, and John, whose attention was wandering, suddenly nudged Rosemary.
‘Look! Over there in the front row!’
It was Mrs Cantrip. She was listening very solemnly and clapping from time to time rather more loudly than was necessary. At last the speeches were over and the Mayor of each town took a trowel and some mortar, and amidst some laughter, laid two bricks side by side in token of the cementing of the friendship between Broomhurst and Fallowhithe, and Mrs Cantrip clapped so loudly that people turned and stared.
‘Who is that extraordinary old woman?’ asked Mr Featherstone. Both John and Rosemary thought it better not to tell him. Then the Mayors shook hands and the loud speaker van played ‘Jerusalem’, followed by ‘God Save the Queen’, and the crowds began to move away.
‘There’s nothing more to wait for,’ said Mrs Brown.
‘Let’s wait a bit longer,’ said Rosemary, who felt unwilling to go.
‘There’s nothing more to see,’ said Mr Featherstone, ‘except the man who is finishing the wall.’
A bricklayer was skilfully and rapidly filling up the rest of the gap. Rosemary thought it was the same man to whom they had talked on the day they had found the rocking chair. Thinking of the rocking chair reminded her of Mrs Cantrip. She looked around, but the old woman was gone.
‘Just look at those two cats!’ said Mrs Brown.
They were sitting behind the workman, apparently half asleep, their eyes nearly closed. But there was an alertness about them that did not deceive Rosemary.
‘They look like Noggin and Swabber, those two cats we met on the high place!’ she whispered to John.
‘Will you finish the wall today?’ asked Mrs Brown.
‘Bless you, yes!’ said the man, skilfully scraping off a piece of unwanted mortar and slapping it into position.
The cats were wide awake now. They were staring at the bricklayer with unblinking eyes.
‘By five o’clock this afternoon it’ll all be done, and smooth on the top as your Ma’s tape measure!’ he said to Rosemary, and at the word ‘five’, Noggin and Swabber were off down the road to Broomhurst like greased lightning, as John put it.
‘And talking of lightning, I think there’s thunder about,’ said Mr Featherstone.
It was certainly very close. ‘I vote we have tea in Bagshott Wood. It may be cooler there.’
The tea was delicious, with ice cream and some late raspberries brought by Mr Featherstone as his share of the feast. Afterwards, John and Rosemary lay on their backs in the dry beech leaves, and looked up at the shifting chinks of sky between the branches above them. They had so much to think about that they were rather quiet. The grownups talked earnestly together, but the children lay there listening to the animal conversations going on around them.
A bird sang a song somewhere about the joys of bringing up a family. The song had a chorus of trills and tralas, and the last verse went on to say that perhaps the joy of being free again when the family had flown away was even better. Two spiders were arguing about the best way to start a web between two trees. A rabbit looked around a stump and said in disgust, ‘More humans!’ and disappeared again.
Mrs Brown and Mr Featherstone went off for a walk, and as the flowered dress and the grey flannels disappeared between the trees, Rosemary said, ‘You know, the best part of all this magic has been the power to hear animals talk. I don’t think I could bear to have it taken away now!’
‘Nor me,’ said John, not bothering about his grammar. ‘You know, I think waiting is the hardest thing of all to do. I don’t think half past eleven tonight will ever come!’
28
The Attack
In spite of their doubt, half past eleven did come at last. Mrs Brown had gone to bed early.
‘That long walk with Mr Featherstone this afternoon must have made her tired,’ whispered John as they crept downstairs with their sandals in their hands. This time they were taking no chances and were fully dressed.
It was hot and very still in the darkened garden. In the Green Cave, not a leaf stirred above them. They took it in turns to sit on the biscuit tin to put on their sandals. Presently a darker shadow slipped between the bushes, and the brisk voice of the cat who had delivered the message that morning said, ‘Greetings to you, sir and miss!’