‘What are you doing?’ asked John. But she motioned him not to interrupt. ‘Here we are,’ she said at last. ‘ “To make a besom fly where it shall be commanded.” ’ With a frowning face, she read the instructions through to herself, looking at the broom from time to time, as though checking various points.
‘Did you brew the mixture at the full moon?’ she asked Miss Dibdin.
‘Of course. A beautiful green steam it gave off.’
‘We know, John saw it,’ said Rosemary crisply. ‘And did you boil the tape in the liquid while the wind was nor’-nor’-east, so that it rose three times?’
‘Miss Dibdin nodded. ‘And picked the twigs just before the church clock struck midnight,’ she added. ‘It’s the twigs that hold the magic.’
Rosemary peered at the untidy bundle at the end of the broom handle. She could still read ‘Nostradamus Ltd. Fancy Goods’ printed on the tape which secured it to the handle. She looked at the notes again.
‘But you’ve tied it with the wrong knot!’ she said. ‘You’ve made it the ordinary granny kind. ‘There’s a diagram here showing how it should be done.’
Miss Dibdin looked where Rosemary’s finger pointed at the closely written page.
‘That?’ she said. ‘Oh dear! I hadn’t realized it was a diagram. I thought it was just an idle bit of doodling! Oh silly me!’
Rosemary began to untie the knot.
‘What are you doing now?’ asked John again. Rosemary ignored him. Without looking up from the diagram she said briskly: ‘While I re-tie the string, properly this time, I have to say the magic words. When I come to the last twist but one, John, I shall nod, then you must put your thumb on the knot so that I can make it really firm.’
‘I must, must I?’ he said with a grin. ‘Who’s being bossy now?’
Rosemary looked up. ‘Don’t you see? If it really flies high this time, the broom can take us to Fallowhithe twice as quickly as any other way! Are you ready? Then I’m going to begin the spell.’
Her fingers took the two ends of the ribbon, and twisted and twined them exactly according to the diagram, and at the same time she chanted in a sing-song voice:
‘Fly-by-night,
And fly-by-day.
What I command,
You must obey.
Whither or thither,
Hither and yon,
Whoever bestraddles you,
Carry them on,
Up and over, wherever they will.
Do as you’re bid. Their wishes fulfil.’
And as she said ‘fulfil’, she nodded, and John placed his thumb squarely on the knot, and she gave a final twist and tug to the ribbon.
Even through the ball of his thumb John felt the quiver of the broom’s response, even more strongly than when they had flown across the field. For a moment, there was a restless stirring among the twigs, and then they lay still.
‘I say!’ said John, gazing at Rosemary with respect.
‘My dear, you did it beautifully!’ breathed Miss Dibdin, who had watched the proceedings with her hands clasped under her chin to control her rising excitement. But Rosemary did not seem to hear either of them. She was standing with the broom in her hands, wrapped in her own thoughts.
‘Rosie!’ said John. ‘I say, Rosie!’ he repeated, and as she still took no notice he gave her shoulder a pat. ‘Wake up! What’s the matter with you?’ Rosemary gave herself a little shake, and turned to John with rather a wobbly smile.
‘Come on. Let’s see if it will fly with us to Fallowhithe!’
‘To Fallowhithe?’ said Miss Dibdin. ‘Oh, please, may I come too?’
‘I suppose so,’ said Rosemary doubtfully.
‘Is the broom strong enough to take all of us?’ said John.
‘The magic is young, and should be powerful,’ said Miss Dibdin eagerly.
‘You said if you could fly high, just once, on the broomstick, you’d stop this witching business for good. If we say you can come, will you promise to be sensible and give it all up?’ said John.
‘By the witch of Endor, and Solomon’s Ring,’ said Miss Dibdin, making a curious flickering movement with her hands, ‘I promise to burn my notes and return to Fairfax Market! That is a very solemn oath.’ She gave a sigh. ‘Being sensible is so dull! But never mind that. Come, come, what are we waiting for? Have you thought what to say when you tell the broom what you want it to do? She turned to Rosemary, who nodded.
‘Then let us mount!’ said Miss Dibdin, adding, ‘Mattins! Guard the Waiting Room while we are gone.’
They all three stood astride the broom, first Rosemary, then John, and Miss Dibdin at the back.
‘Go on, say it!’ said John, as Rosemary paused. She lifted her head high, and in a loud, clear voice said:
‘To Fallowhithe please will you fly.
Not hopping, but high in the sky,
To land where Calidor is standing,
And please to make a careful landing!’
‘So efficient! She thinks of everything,’ breathed Miss Dibdin.
‘Up!’ cried Rosemary. ‘Up and away!’
The broom rose gently in the air.
‘Look out! Duck!’ yelled John, as without warning it shot through the doorway of the Ladies’ Waiting Room, out into the daylight, circling up and up into the air, until Highdown Station looked no bigger than a toy below them.
18. The Duel
‘WONDERFUL! Wonderful!’ sang Miss Dibdin, as the broom, sloping steeply, circled higher and higher. Up and up it went, the wind singing in its twigs and whipping Rosemary’s hair out behind her. After a dozen turns she called breathlessly:
‘Don’t you think we’re high enough, John? You’re hanging on to my waist, and Miss Dibdin is hanging on to your waist, and if I stop hanging on to the broom handle, we shall all three slither off the end! I can’t ... hold ... on ... much longer!’
‘Then tell the broom what you want it to do!’ shouted Miss Dibdin. ‘Showing off, that’s what it’s doing. You have to be firm with young flying besoms, and let ’em know who’s master.’
‘Down broom! Down a little!’ commanded Rosemary desperately. ‘And then straight on to Fallowhithe, and hurry!’
At once the broom tipped the other way, so suddenly that John and Miss Dibdin nearly catapulted over Rosemary’s head, then it straightened out, settling down to a steady forward flight.
‘I say, I think I can steer it a little by pressing one knee or the other against the handle!’ said Rosemary.
‘The station is right behind us!’ joined in Miss Dibdin. ‘And we’re coming up to Tucket Towers. How thrilling. And I do believe that’s Dulcie Witherspoon in the garden. I can see her pink frock. Oh, I do hope she sees us! Dulcie! Dulcie!’ she shouted. ‘Coo-ee! Look at me flying up here!’
‘Don’t call her,’ said John curtly, turning so abruptly to frown at Miss Dibdin that the broom rocked perilously.
‘Do sit still!’ said Rosemary crossly.
‘Well, we don’t want Mrs Witherspoon knowing where we’re going. She might find out and start interfering,’ said John, facing squarely front once more.
‘Oh, very well,’ said Miss Dibdin in a resigned voice.
As they flew over the clump of trees growing beside the house, the rooks rose in a protesting cloud, and then settled down again. Through the overhanging boughs, here and there, they could see the drive leading up to Tucket Towers, the crumpled humps that were the roofs and the tower itself which stood up like a warning finger, where Carbonel sat patiently waiting. When they flew over the pink blob which was Mrs Witherspoon, Miss Dibdin gave a sudden chuckle.