The Chrestomanci Series: Entire Collection Books 1-7. Diana Wynne Jones
thought much to her myself. But someone did. She’s been set up by a grateful client in a Salon in Bond Street. Coven Street’s not good enough for her any more. The luck some people have! But I’ve had a stroke of luck myself, too. I told you in my letter – didn’t I, Cat? – about being give five pounds for that old cat you turned our Cat’s fiddle into, Gwendolen. Well, he was ever such a funny little man who bought him. While we were waiting to catch the old cat – you know how he never would come if you wanted him – this little man kept at me, telling me all about stocks and shares and capital investment and such like. Things I never could understand. He told me what I ought to be doing with that five pounds he was giving me, and making my head go round with it. Well, I didn’t think much of it, but I thought I’d have a go. And I did what he said, as far as I could remember. And do you know, that five pound has brought in one hundred! One hundred pounds, he got me!”
“He must have been a financial wizard,” Janet said.
She meant it as a joke to cheer herself up. She needed cheering up for several reasons. But Mrs Sharp took her literally.
“He was, my dear! You’re always so clever. I know he was, because I told Mr Nostrum, and Mr Nostrum did exactly what I did with five pounds of his own – or it may have been more – and he lost every penny of it. And another thing—”
Cat watched Mrs Sharp as she chattered on. He was puzzled and sad. He was still just as fond of Mrs Sharp. But he knew it would have been no use whatsoever running away to her. She was a weak, dishonest person. She would not have helped them. She would have sent them back to the Castle and tried to get money out of Chrestomanci for doing it. And the London contacts she was boasting of at that moment were just boasts. Cat wondered how much he had changed inside – and why he had – enough to know all this. But he did know, just as surely as if Mrs Sharp had turned round in her gilded chair and assured him of it herself, and it upset him.
As Mrs Sharp came to the end of the food, she seemed to become very nervous. Perhaps the Castle was getting her down. At length she got up and took a nervous trot to a distant window, absent-mindedly taking her teacup with her.
“Come and explain this view,” she called. “It’s so grand I can’t understand it.” Cat and Janet obligingly went over to her. Whereupon Mrs Sharp became astounded to find she had an empty teacup in her hand. “Oh, look at this,” she said. shaking with nervousness. “I’ll be carrying it away with me if I’m not careful.”
“You’d better not,” said Cat. “It’s bound to be charmed. Everything you take outside shouts where it came from.”
“Is that so?” All of a flutter, Mrs Sharp passed Janet her cup and followed it up, very guiltily, with two silver spoons and the sugar-tongs out of her handbag. “There, dear. Would you mind taking those back to the table?” Janet set off across the yards of carpet and, as soon as she was out of hearing, Mrs Sharp bent and whispered, “Have you talked to Mr Nostrum, Cat?”
Cat nodded.
Mrs Sharp at once became nervous in a much more genuine way. “Don’t do what he says, love,” she whispered. “Not on any account. You hear me? It’s a wicked, crying shame, and you’re not to do it!” Then, as Janet came slowly back – slowly, because she could see Mrs Sharp had something private to say to Cat – Mrs Sharp burst out artificially, “Oh those great immemorial oaks! They must be older than I am!”
“They’re cedars,” was all Cat could think of to say.
“Well, that was a nice tea, my loves, and lovely to see you,” said Mrs Sharp. “And I’m glad you warned me about those spoons. It’s a mean, wicked trick, enchanting property, I always think. I must be going now. Mr Nostrum’s expecting me.” And go Mrs Sharp did, through the Castle hall and away down the avenue with such speed that it was clear she was glad to go.
“You can see the Castle really upsets her,” Janet said, watching Mrs Sharp’s trotting black figure. “There is this quiet. I know what she means. But I think it’s cheerful – or it would be if everything else wasn’t so miserable. Cat, it would have been no good running away to her, I’m afraid.”
“I know,” said Cat.
“I thought you did,” said Janet.
She was wanting to say more, but they were interrupted by Roger and Julia. Julia was so contrite and trying so hard to be friendly that neither Janet nor Cat had the heart to go off on their own. They played with hand-mirrors instead. Roger fetched the mirror tethered to Cat’s bookcase, and collected his own and Julia’s and Gwendolen’s too. Julia took a firm little reef in that handkerchief of hers and sent all four aloft in the playroom. Until supper, they had great fun whizzing round the playroom, not to speak of up and down the passage outside.
Supper was in the playroom that evening. There were guests to dinner again downstairs. Roger and Julia knew, but no one had mentioned it to Cat and Janet for fear the supposed Gwendolen might try to ruin it again.
“They always entertain a lot in the month before Hallowe’en,” Julia said as they finished the blackberry tart Cook had made specially out of Janet’s hatful. “Shall we play soldiers now, or mirrors again?”
Janet was signalling so hard that she had something urgent to say, that Cat had to refuse. “I’m awfully sorry. We’ve got to talk about something Mrs Sharp told us. And don’t say Gwendolen owns me. It’s not that at all.”
“We forgive you,” Roger said. “We might forgive Gwendolen too, with luck.”
“We’ll come back when I’ve said it,” said Janet.
They hurried along to her room, and Janet locked the door in case Euphemia tried to come in.
“Mrs Sharp said I wasn’t on any account to do what Mr Nostrum says,” Cat told her. “I think she came specially to tell me.”
“Yes, she’s fond of you,” said Janet. “Oh – oh – oh drat!” She clasped her hands behind her back and marched up and down with her head bent. She looked so like Mr Saunders teaching, that Cat started to laugh. “Bother,” said Janet. “Bother, bother, bother bother botherbotherbother!” She marched some more. “Mrs Sharp is a highly dishonest person, almost as bad as Mr Nostrum, and probably worse than Mr Bistro, so if she thinks you oughtn’t to do it, it must be bad. What are you laughing about?”
“You keep getting Mr Baslam’s name wrong,” said Cat.
“He doesn’t deserve to have it got right,” Janet said, marching on. “Oh, confusticate Mrs Sharp! After I saw she wasn’t any good for any kind of help, I was in such despair that I suddenly saw the ideal way out – and she’s stopped it. You see, if that garden is a way to go to other worlds, you and I could go back to my world, and you could live there with me. Don’t you think that was a good idea? You’d be safe from Chrestomanci and Mr Baalamb, and I’m sure Will Suggins couldn’t turn you into a frog there, either, could he?”
“No,” Cat said dubiously. “But I don’t think Mr Nostrum was telling quite the truth. All sorts of things could be wrong.”
“Don’t I know it!” said Janet. “Specially after Mrs Sharp. Mum and Dad would be another difficulty too – though I’m sure they’d like you when they understood. They must be fearfully puzzled by my Dear Replacement by now, as it is. And I did have a brother, who died when he was born, so perhaps they’d think you were his Dear Replacement.”
“That’s funny!” said Cat. “I nearly died being born too.”
“Then you must be him,” said Janet, swinging round at the end of her march. “They’d be delighted – I hope. And the best of it would have been that Gwendolen would have been dragged back here to face the music – and serve her right! This is all her fault.”
“No, it isn’t,” said Cat.
“Yes, it is!” said Janet. “She did magic when she was forbidden to, and gave Mr Blastoff dud earrings for