Part 3 (1/2)

*But your kittens,' said Rosemary. *Do tell us about them! How many are there? And are they like you? Oh, I must see them!'

*There are two of them, a boy and a girl,' said Carbonel. *They are said to be remarkably handsome a” but whether they are like me you must judge for yourselves,' he added modestly.

*Then we can see them?'

*Certainly. I have chosen you to look after them while I am away.'

*Of course we'll look after them for you! We'd love to, wouldn't we, John? I shall have to ask Mother, of course, but I'm sure she will say yes.'

*Guard them faithfully till I come back.'

*When will that be?' asked John.

*Three days? Three weeks? Three months? Who can tell?'

*But why must you go?' persisted John.

*Once every seven years I and my royal brothers are summoned to the presence of the Great Cat.'

*But who are your royal brothers?' asked Rosemary.

*You must not think that I am the only cat king,' explained Carbonel. *Every city in the world where there are cats has a king to rule over them, just as I rule over the cats of Fallowhithe. When the Summons comes, we must all obey. There will be lean, blue-eyed cats from Siam, long-haired cats from Persia, great tawny jungle cats, and thin, big-boned cats from Egypt. Cats of every colour a” black as coal, white as milk, grey as woodsmoke. Whatever the colour, whatever the kind, when the Summons comes we all must answer.'

*But who will look after your kingdom for you while you are away?' asked John.

*My beautiful Queen, my lovely Blandamour, will rule with the help of my cousin Merbeck. Blandamour is wise and good, but I cannot answer for all the queens of the neighbouring towns. Queen Grisana of Broomhurst is ambitious, and her husband is old. Do not let my kittens stray.

They are a little a”' There was a pause, as though Carbonel were searching for the right word. *High spirited,' he concluded. *Early tomorrow morning, before I go, I shall visit you again and bring my royal children with me.'

It was getting dark in the Green Cave, and the shadow that was Carbonel slipped silently down from the biscuit tin and rubbed against Rosemary, and his purring filled the little s.p.a.ce under the currant bushes like an organ. A warm tongue licked her cheek.

*Dear Carbonel!' said Rosemary, putting her arms round him for a minute. *Of course we'll do our best to take care of your kittens, but do you think a”'

She broke off. The black cat had slipped from her and melted into the other shadows.

6.

The Royal Kittens.

They did not ask that night if they might have the kittens after all. Rosemary felt that her mother was not in a *yes-of-course-darling' mood. She was still having trouble with a dress she was making, and only looked in to tell them to take the sausages on the cracked plate for supper.

*Never mind,' said John. *You can ask at breakfast tomorrow. Don't forget, Carbonel said he was coming early.'

But Carbonel's idea of early was rather different from theirs.

Rosemary was awakened next morning by a fly which buzzed persistently around her pillow. She brushed it away with a sleepy hand once or twice, and turned over; but the fly continued to buzz. Presently she became aware that it was not just buzzing. It was saying over and over again in a shrill, angry voice, *For goodness' sake, wake up!'

Rosemary opened one eye sleepily, and saw the fly a few inches away on the curve of her pillow. It was jumping up and down angrily on all of its six legs.

*I am awake,' said Rosemary sleepily, and gave a cavernous yawn.

The fly made a noise that sounded like an outraged squeak, and braced itself.

*Don't do that,' it said in an agitated voice. *I once knew a fly who was swallowed by a yawn!'

*How horrible!' said Rosemary, thinking more of the yawner than the fly. She was wide awake now and sitting up.

*Here am I, simply come to deliver a message to oblige, and my very life is threatened! First you go flapping like a windmill, and then a”'

*I'm so sorry,' said Rosemary humbly.

*And you should be,' said the fly a little more calmly. *Many people would just have flown off without delivering the message. But not me. I'm not that kind of fly. Luckily for you, I have a weakness for royalty.'

*Royalty?' interrupted Rosemary. *Is it from Carbonel? The message, I mean.'

The fly nodded importantly.

*I was just to tell you, ”We are here.” Kings talk like that, you know,' it added condescendingly.

*But where is ”here”?' asked Rosemary.

*The greenhouse at the bottom of the garden. Oh! There you go again!'

Without warning, Rosemary had flung back the bedclothes and jumped out of bed. Buzzing angrily, the fly circled round her as she dressed.

*I am sorry!' she said again, *and of course I'm very grateful to you, but I must go and tell John at once. I think I've got some sugar somewhere.'

She felt in the pocket of her school blazer and brought out a rather dusty sugar lump, which she put on the dressing table. Then, in one movement, she pushed her toes into her slippers and her arms into her dressing gown.

John and Rosemary did not waste time dressing. They crept downstairs into the s.h.i.+ning, early morning garden. It was so early that the shadows were still long and narrow, and the dew from the gra.s.s, which needed cutting, was cold on their bare ankles.

The birds and the small daylight creatures were all awake. The faint hum that Rosemary and John had noticed after drinking the red mixture was all around them, like the hum of a busy market place, but fainter and on a higher note. If they stood still, they could distinguish the little voices of which it was made. Only the birds sang loudly and excitedly of all the things they hoped to do on such a glorious day. Rosemary wanted to stop and listen, but John pulled her on.

The greenhouse was quite small. It had not been used for some time. The lock was broken, and several of the panes were cracked. The coloured tiles patterning the floor had come loose from their moorings and rocked beneath Rosemary's and John's feet when they walked on them. The greenhouse no longer held rows of pots, full of delicate flowers. There was only one remaining climbing plant which had run riot over the walls and roof. Mrs Brown called it plumbago. It was flowering now, and great trusses of pale blue blossoms hung among the dark green leaves. John and Rosemary ran down the path and opened the door.

On the shelf which had once housed pots of geraniums and primulas and lacy ferns, before a curtain of blue flowers, sat Carbonel. Beside him was a snow-white Persian, and between them were two kittens, one coal-black with white paws and the other tortoise-sh.e.l.l. All four sat quite still with their tails wrapped neatly around their front paws from left to right. The children hesitated by the open door. A blue flower fell silently between the kittens, and the black one raised a paw as if to pat it.

*Calidor!' said Carbonel sternly, and the kitten instantly wrapped his tail round his paws again, as if that would keep them out of mischief.

*Good morning, Rosemary. Good morning, John.'

*Good morning,' said the children together, and John, to his surprise, found himself adding, *Sir.'

*My dear,' said Carbonel, turning to the white cat. *I have great pleasure in presenting my two friends, John and Rosemary.'

The white cat gazed at them with wide, faraway blue eyes and bowed her head graciously. *My husband has often spoken of you. His friends will always be mine.'