Free Carbonel and Calidor by Barbara Sleigh

said Rosemary. ‘I was wearing the Golden Gew-Gaw, and when I said “I wish I could fly”, I did a little way, but then I came down, smack.’
    â€˜So what?’ said John.
    â€˜I was wearing it again when we had that silly row about the cat’s eyes, and when I said “I wish they’d come alive”, they did. I think it’s a wishing ring.’
    â€˜I say, fancy you thinking all that out!’ said John, and the respect with which he said it made up for the number of times he had made her shut up. ‘But wait a minute. You hadn’t got the ring when we were scrapping. It was in my tin for Special Things.’
    Rosemary shook her head. ‘That’s just where you’re wrong. We took it out of the box so that we could talk to Calidor, and I must have put it in my pocket afterwards, and when I shoved my hands in too, because they were cold, I must have slipped it on without thinking. I remember taking it off on the way home with the Scrabbles.’
    John gave a slow, breathy whistle. Then he said: ‘But look here! If it’s a wishing ring as well as letting us hear cats talk, all we’ve got to do is to wish the Scrabbles back in their holes again. Where is it now?’
    â€˜In my bedroom, in my coat pocket.’
    â€˜Then what are we waiting for?’ said John.
    Together they stampeded up the stairs. Rosemary didn’t wait to switch the bedroom light on, but rushed to the peg on which her coat was hanging, and after some frantic fumbling in the wrong pockets she found it at last. Standing very straight and stiff, with the Golden Gew-Gaw on her up-raised finger, in a solemn voice she said: ‘I wish to goodness the Scrabbles were back in their holes again.’ Then feeling she had perhaps not been very polite she added under her breath: ‘Yours sincerely, Rosemary Brown.’
    For a moment they stood very still.
    â€˜The stone in the ring,’ said John. ‘It gave a sort of wink!’ But Rosemary had switched on the light. Its hard, white glare banished the shadows, and shone in every corner of the room.
    â€˜Carbonel was right. The ring is dangerous. Do you think we ought to put it in the dustbin, or bury it or something?’
    â€˜If we did we couldn’t hear Carbonel or Calidor talking. Here, stick it back in the tin, and we must be very careful not to take it out unless we specially want to hear them.’ He snapped the lid firmly down on the Gew-Gaw as he spoke.
    â€˜I do wish Carbonel would come so that we can tell him everything that’s happened.’
    â€˜But we promised Miss Dibdin we wouldn’t tell a human soul,’ said John.
    â€˜Carbonel isn’t human. He’s a cat,’ said Rosemary.
    John grinned. ‘You aren’t as stupid as you look!’ he said. But by the friendly way he tweaked her hair, she knew he was paying her a compliment.
    â€˜You don’t think something has happened to him, do you?’ said Rosemary. ‘Carbonel I mean?’
    â€˜Something’ll happen to us if we don’t go down to supper!’
    On their way downstairs they met Mrs Bodkin. ‘Where have you been all this time?’ she said. ‘I didn’t hear you come in. All that smarmed-down hair! It isn’t natural,’ she added suspiciously.
    â€˜Oh, we’ve been in for ages,’ said John airily. ‘Getting cleaned up for supper.’
    â€˜Lucky for you supper’s late. Mr Sprules, him that keeps the second-hand book shop in Broomhurst, called, and he’s staying on.’
    Mr Sprules was a large, bald, friendly man, and both John and Rosemary were glad of his presence over supper, because they had so much to think about. They sat in silent thought, munching their food, barely aware of Mr Sprules’s boom and Uncle Zack’s lighter voice answering one another; their talk bouncing backwards and forwards across the table, like a ball in a game of