and said:
âPlease take me home to Cranshaw Road.
One hundred and one is my abode.
My bedroom windowâs open wide,
So kindly take me right inside.â
As she got to the last line, she heard footsteps coming along the pavement on the other side of the wall. It sounded like two people, both of them limping a little.
âItâs Mrs Cantrip! Someone must have given them a lift!â said Rosemary to herself. âI must hurry!â
She rocked higher and faster, saying the rhyme for a second time. As she reached the last line, she heard a key grating in the lock. It made such a noise that it was clearly as large as a church key. The lock needed oiling.
She said the last line for the third time, and just as the door opened on its creaking hinge, the rocking chair rose from the ground with a swoop, spiralling steeply. She was just wondering if sheought to have added the postal number to the address when it straightened out. She opened her eyes and looked down. Already the little walled garden was no bigger than a green pocket handkerchief beneath her. Straight as an arrow, the chair headed for Cranshaw Road.
10
Making Plans
John and Mrs Brown ate a silent, uncomfortable supper by themselves. He was a truthful boy and, being unable to think of anything better to say, repeated his story of someone having given Rosemary an unexpected lift. The unexpected part was certainly true.
âBut who could it have been?â asked Mrs Brown anxiously for the tenth time. âItâs so unlike Rosemary!â She broke off, to Johnâs intense relief, startled by a crash from Rosemaryâs bedroom. The room was not much larger than a cupboard, and its only door led into the sitting room. John dropped his pudding spoon and rushed in.
As Rosemary said later, the rocking chair was âwilling but not very good at landingâ. When John flung the door open, the chair was lying on its side, and Rosemary, looking slightly dazed, was picking herself up from the floor. With great presence of mind, he pushed the chair behind the door, andstood so that, as far as possible, it was hidden from Mrs Brown. Then, winking violently in an effort to convey that she had better think up something quickly, he said loudly, âHello, Rosie!â
For once Mrs Brown was extremely cross.
âRosemary! You are a very naughty girl! I canât think why you should do something so childish as to hide in your bedroom while I have been so anxious. And what possessed you to leave Mr Featherstone and come home with someone else?â
âIâm very sorry, Mummy,â said Rosemary penitently. âI really didnât mean you to be anxious. It was all a mistake, honestly. I promise I wonât ever do it again. Please, just this once,â she went on earnestly, âwill you trust me and not ask questions? It is a most particular secret!â
Mrs Brown looked at her daughterâs pleading face for an anxious moment. Then at last she said, âYou promise the secret is not wrong?â
âPromise faithfully!â said Rosemary.
âVery well, dear. I will trust you. But you must not be inconsiderate either. You have been rude to Mr Featherstone as well as making me anxious. But come and have your supper now, Rosie. Itâs in the oven. You must be starving.â
âAre the kittens all right?â asked Rosemary, between mouthfuls of fish pie.
âRight as rain,â said John. âBut I think we oughtto feed them as soon as possible,â he went on, winking violently again, hoping that Rosemary would understand that he wanted to talk to her privately.
They had to help wash up after supper, but as soon as the front door closed behind them, Rosemary told John her adventures. He listened open-mouthed.
âI was in such a tizzy to get away from Mrs Cantripâs garden that I forgot I wouldnât be able to explain how I came to be in my bedroom without going through the sitting