‘Carbonel did say something about you getting into bad company,’ began John.
‘Bad company?’ interrupted Calidor. ‘Is that what he calls her? The prettiest little tabby that ever lapped a saucer! And as nice manners as any stuck-up royal kitten, and honest too. None of your sly-paws like the other one they’ve planned I shall marry.’
‘But why don’t you want anyone to know your real name?’ asked John.
‘For two reasons,’ replied Crumpet. ‘This is not my father Carbonel’s kingdom. It is enemy country. It belongs to Grisana, Queen of the Broomhurst cats.’
‘But I don’t understand,’ said Rosemary. ‘Why should Grisana mind you being here?’
‘Because she hates me for refusing to marry her daughter, Melissa,’ said Crumpet.
‘The one you meant by “sly-paws”?’ asked Rosemary.
Calidor nodded. ‘It was all arranged when we were kittens. At first my parents thought that if my sister Pergamond were to marry Grisana’s son Gracilis, it might end the feud between Broomhurst and Fallowhithe cats. But they decided he was too feeble; like his father King Castrum, to be of any importance. Instead they approached Grisana, and it was arranged that when we were both grown up I should marry her daughter Melissa. But the only cat I mean to marry is my one and only dear little Dumpsie! Turned spiteful, Grisana has, because of it. Says I’ve insulted the royal house of Castrum. If she finds out I am in her kingdom, she’d do anything to get her own back. As Crumpet, she need never know who I am.’
‘But if you’re in danger here, why do you stay?’ said Rosemary.
‘Come closer, and I’ll tell you,’ said Crumpet. He looked cautiously round while John and Rosemary knelt down beside the seat. Then he lifted his chin and said proudly: ‘I want to make my own way. Show the world I can stand on my own paws. Not because I’m Carbonel’s son and a royal cat, but because I’m me, Calidor or Crumpet. Call me what you like. I have decided to become a witch’s cat.’ He dropped his voice again. ‘She is learning to be a witch.’ He nodded sideways towards the Ladies’ Waiting Room. ‘So we can both learn together.’
‘I don’t think I should like to belong to Miss Dibdin,’ said Rosemary.
‘Who said anything about “belonging”?’ replied Calidor indignantly. ‘Mattins and I have our plans, I tell you. He has decided to be witch’s cat to the other one at Tucket Towers. He knows nothing of my royal blood, of course. But keep out of this, Hearing Humans, for your own good! I must go. I have important things to see to.’
As he spoke, Calidor jumped down from the seat, slipped over the edge of the platform and crossed the weedy track below. When he reached the tangle of grass and cow-parsley the other side, he turned.
‘Keep out of this!’ he called, and with a flick of his tail he disappeared. Without thinking, Rosemary slipped the ring into her pocket. When they could no longer follow Calidor’s progress through the field by the waving of the long grass, John said crossly: ‘What cheek, telling us what we ought to do! He’s as bad as Carbonel!’
As he spoke, there was a clatter behind them. They turned quickly. Someone or something had upset the two milk bottles.
‘Look!’ said John. ‘That grey cat streaking down the platform!’
‘It must be Mattins!’ said Rosemary.
‘Hi, Mattins!’ called John. ‘Mattins!’ But either the grey cat did not hear, or didn’t want to hear. He disappeared round the corner of the station.
‘Oh well,’ said John. ‘I suppose we ought to go and take that leaflet to Tucket Towers.’
‘Do we have to?’ said Rosemary uneasily. ‘I don’t think I want to meet this Mrs Witherspoon much. One witch is quite enough for today!’
‘I know,’ said John. ‘But we promised Uncle Zack we would. We could go by Miss Dibdin’s short cut.’
‘Don’t let’s!’ said Rosemary. ‘We might meet her coming back.’
‘All right,’ said John. ‘I shouldn’t much like that either. We can go by the road, drop the leaflet through the letterbox, and run.’
They set off the way they had come, eating the remains of the sandwiches and the rock cakes as they went. When they reached the crossroads, the road-man had gone home to his tea. Four lamps, already lit, stood at the corners of the hole. Instead of taking the road back to the village they turned to the left towards Tucket Towers and crossed the bridge that spanned the old railway line.
The brief burst of sunshine was gone. The clouds were even darker than before. A chill little breeze had sprung up, and Rosemary pushed her cold hands deep into her pockets. The sky was so overcast that a car coming over the hump of the bridge had its lights on. They stood back as it passed.
‘Did you see how it made the cat’s eyes in the road light up?’ said John.
Rosemary nodded, and poked one of the small rubbery squares with the toe of her shoe. The glass ‘eyes’ which had shone so brightly as the car approached were dull now, and lifeless.
‘It’s a super idea!’ said John, looking at the row of studs marking the middle of the road stretching ahead of them. ‘I mean having “eyes” back and front to reflect the light when a car comes either way.’
‘Yes, but what for?’ said Rosemary.
‘To show where the middle of the road is when it’s dark, of course,’ said John. ‘Didn’t you know? Really Rosie, you are a prize ass sometimes!’
Rosemary flushed. ‘Well anyway, I don’t think they ought to be called cat’s eyes,’ she said. ‘They look more like a row of little crabs squatting down in the road.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ said John. ‘Crab’s eyes don’t light up in the dark like cat’s eyes.’
‘But they only light up for a second when a car passes,’ said Rosemary. ‘All the rest of the time they sit in their holes in the roads looking like little square crabs.’
‘Cats!’ said John.
‘Crabs!’ said Rosemary.
‘Cats!’ said John with an infuriating grin, and quite suddenly Rosemary completely lost her temper.
‘Stop it!’ she burst out. ‘Stop it! You’re always being a know-all!’ She stamped her feet in rage. ‘You don’t like Carbonel and Crumpet bossing you. Well, I don’t like you always bossing me! You go on making me shut up when I’m going to say something. I’m quite sore where you keep poking me with your bony great elbow. I say they’re like crabs!’
‘All right. Keep your hair on!’ began John. But Rosemary was thoroughly roused, and she swept on.
‘I wish they’d come alive. I do! I do! I do!’ And each time she said ‘I do’ she stamped her foot. ‘I wish they’d come alive, and that would just show you!’
She stopped suddenly, interrupted by a loud ‘pop’! It seemed to come from somewhere between her feet. She stepped back hurriedly.
‘Look at the stud,’ said John. ‘It’s moving!’
Rosemary looked.
It was the one she had poked with her foot. It had come loose from the metal rim which kept it in its place, and was moving up and down, of its own accord, in a jerky sort of way. Then, to Rosemary’s astonishment, it tilted so that the glass ‘eyes’ in front were looking up at her, and at the same time, two rather bandy legs unfolded themselves from the two front corners, waved wildly in the air, scrabbled for a second on the metal rim, then, helped by two more legs growing from the corners at the back, heaved the stud clean out of its square hole. For a minute it stood flexing its legs as though to get the stiffness out of them. Then it scuttled towards Rosemary, bouncing up and down at her feet and making little squeaks of what seemed like pleasure.