‘Blandamour!’ whispered Rosemary. ‘I’m so glad you are your right size again.’
‘There is no doubt that you like cats, too!’ said Mrs Cantrip.
Blandamour and Carbonel were weaving in and out between the two children, pressing so hard against their bare legs that they found it quite hard to keep their balance. Merbeck, Tudge and Woppit had slipped away. Both children fell on their knees beside the black and the white cat.
‘Come and see us sometimes!’ whispered Rosemary, and as if in answer a rough tongue licked her cheek.
John stirred Calidor and Pergamond with his foot. They were rolling over each other in an effort to rub themselves against his right ankle.
‘Be good kittens!’ he said.
With a little ‘prrt!’ Blandamour called her children to her. One behind the other, Carbonel leading, they trotted away. When they reached the flower bed they paused, gave a quick look back, and disappeared.
‘Look!’ said John. ‘The high wall has gone!’ In its place was a low fence which let the sun come streaming in. Instead of hemlock, nettles and deadly nightshade, there were roses, tiger lilies, and round, scarlet dahlias; there were marigolds and nasturtiums and sweet-scented stock.
Mrs Cantrip was cutting a bunch of sweet peas which she said were for Mrs Brown, and while she snipped away she talked over her shoulder.
‘Very good of Mr Fudge to give me the morning off. But of course after working with him for so long… What’s the matter, dear?’
‘Hedgem and Fudge? Do you work there?’ asked Rosemary.
‘Of course! I’ve been dispensing for him for years.’
John and Rosemary looked at each other in a puzzled way.
‘Luckily Albert Flackett is back at work again,’ she went on. ‘He seems quite recovered, and he tells me he and Myrtle are getting married soon. I’m so glad! Ah, here comes Dorothy with the lemonade.’
They turned. Miss Dibdin, her own size and none the worse for her adventure, was coming out of the house carrying a tray with two glasses on it. She gave no sign of anything except pleasure at their approval of the lemonade. The children drank it politely.
‘Miss Dibdin,’ said John, as he replaced his empty glass on the tray. ‘Have you known Mrs Cantrip for long?’
Miss Dibdin laughed comfortably.
‘Why, Katie and I have been friends since we both wore plaits. We were at school together!’
‘It’s very puzzling,’ John said on the way home as they turned to look back at the front of the house. The neat front door was pale yellow now, and golden linen curtains hung at the windows, which were edged with flower-filled window boxes.
‘I suppose the magic had to work backwards,’ said Rosemary. ‘Mrs Cantrip couldn’t become what she might have been, without having been all the other things she might have been before.’
John nodded. He seemed to understand, as I hope you do, too.
‘How kind of Mrs Cantrip!’ said her mother when Rosemary gave her the bunch of sweet peas from Mrs Cantrip’s garden.
‘Mother, have you known her for long?’
‘Why, she’s one of my oldest customers!’ said Mrs Brown.
‘She has lived with that friend of hers – Miss Dibdin – ever since I can remember,’ said Mr Featherstone, who was suddenly there again. ‘I’m just going down to my flat for a minute – I’ve left a large block of ice cream on the kitchen table. Your mother and I thought we ought to have a celebration. Come with me, John.’
John went off with Mr Featherstone. Mrs Brown had buried her face in the bunch of sweet peas.
‘I think Mr Featherstone ought to have a lift put in. Then he wouldn’t have to keep running up and down the stairs when he comes to see us every day,’ said Rosemary.
Her mother lifted her face from the bunch of flowers. It was as pink as the sweet peas.
‘I can think of a better plan, darling,’ she said. ‘Supposing he came to live here with us. Would you like that, Rosie?’ She paused for a moment, and then she said with a rush, ‘We’re going to be married!’
Rosemary’s eyes were round as saucers.
‘Mummy, how lovely!’ she said.
As she spoke, John came bursting in, and by the way he pumped Mrs Brown’s hand up and down and grinned from ear to ear, it was quite clear that he had been let into the secret and entirely approved. As for Mr Featherstone, he said shyly, ‘Will I do, Rosie? I’ll take such care of you both!’
‘I should just think you will do!’ said Rosemary, and they laughed and talked until Mrs Brown said, ‘My goodness, the chicken will be ruined!’ and rushed into the kitchen. But it was not ruined, it was cooked to a turn. When they had all eaten as much as they could manage, Rosemary gave a great sigh.
‘A father, and a high school, and chicken for dinner altogether. How perfectly gorgeous!’
The wedding was a quiet one, but among the guests were Mrs Cantrip and Miss Dibdin. As Mr and Mrs Featherstone left the church, not only a black cat, but a snow-white one as well, ran across their path as though to wish them luck.