Free Carbonel and Calidor by Barbara Sleigh Page A

tennis. But they both looked up sharply from their plates when they heard the words ‘cat’s eyes’.
    â€˜A funny thing,’ Mr Sprules was saying. ‘Some silly young vandals have dug up the studs on the stretch of road beyond the railway bridge, down Sheepshank Lane. They were talking about it at the tobacconist’s when I looked in on my way here.’
    Rosemary sat up with a jerk. Her face was red, and her eyes wide. ‘It might not have been “stupid vandals”,’ she said indignantly. ‘And — how do the tobacconist people know about it so soon? It was only ...’
    But at this point, John, who was unable to nudge her in the ribs this time, because of the width of the Cromwellian table, broke into a prolonged, rather artificial cough.
    â€˜Have some water, my boy,’ said Uncle Zack. ‘You’d be surprised how soon news gets round in a village.’ He looked thoughtfully from John to Rosemary. ‘You’re unusually quiet, you two! Sure you’re all right?’ Reassured by their nods he went on: ‘How did you get on this afternoon? They’ve been delivering leaflets for me, for the Sale on Saturday,’ he explained to Mr Sprules.
    â€˜Except for Tucket Towers, we went everywhere, I think,’ said John. ‘It was getting rather late, so we thought we’d better leave that till tomorrow.’
    â€˜Well done!’ said Uncle Zack. ‘I’m very grateful to you both. I’m afraid I have left the leaflets rather late.’
    â€˜Don’t forget I said I’d come and lend a hand at the Sale,’ said Mr Sprules.
    â€˜Very good of you, my dear chap,’ said Uncle Zack.
    â€˜Talking of Tucket Towers,’ went on Mr Sprules, ‘Mrs Witherspoon came into my shop the other day and bought a couple of battered old books from the bargain tray and asked my young assistant to take them out to her tricycle. Very high and mighty she was!’
    â€˜She is a strange old thing,’ said Uncle Zack. ‘Lives in that great house all alone, and dresses up for dinner every night, they say, although it’s probably nothing but baked beans on toast. The house used to be full of really lovely stuff, furniture and old silver, but she’s sold it now, I believe. I dare say she’ll come to the Sale, buy an old cracked plate, and eat an enormous tea!’
    â€˜You’ve never provided refreshments before?’ said Mr Sprules.
    â€˜It has never been so important for me to sell things before,’ said Uncle Zack ruefully. ‘I wish I had a better head for figures. I had another very disturbing letter this morning. I’m afraid I shall have to sell nearly all my favourite things.’
    â€˜Not your special treasures?’ said Rosemary. Uncle Zack nodded.
    â€˜It was Mrs Bodkin’s idea about refreshments. She said it would make people in a better mood to buy things, with a cup of hot tea inside them and a couple of her macaroon biscuits.’
    â€˜A very sensible woman!’ said Mr Sprules.
    â€˜Oh well, let’s talk about something more cheerful,’ said Uncle Zack. ‘I tell you what! How about a game of Heads-Bodies-and-Tails or something, after supper? Could you face it, Sprules?’
    â€˜There’s nothing I’d like better!’
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    Next morning, when Mrs Bodkin brought in the scrambled eggs for breakfast, she was breathing rather heavily and her usually neat hair straggled over her forehead.
    â€˜Why, Mrs Bodkin!’ said Uncle Zack. ‘Is anything the matter? You look upset.’
    â€˜I’ve had a nasty turn,’ said Mrs Bodkin, with a hand on the heaving bib of her apron. ‘I would never have believed it! I can’t abide rats. Never could from a child.’
    â€˜Rats?’ said Uncle Zack. ‘I’m glad to say we’ve never been troubled with them in this house.’
    â€˜Not in the house,’ said Mrs Bodkin.