Charmed Life - Diana Wynne Jones [41]
“She’ll have to be,” said Cat. “You get dressed.”
A look of panic came over Janet’s face. “Cat, what does Gwendolen wear?”
Cat thought all girls knew what girls wore. “The usual things—petticoats, stockings, dress, boots—you know.”
“No, I don’t,” said Janet. “I always wear trousers.”
Cat felt his problems mounting up. He hunted for clothes. Gwendolen seemed to have taken her best things with her, but he found her older boots, her green stockings and the garters to match, her second-best petticoats, her green cashmere dress with the smocking and—with some embarrassment—her bloomers. “There,” he said.
“Does she really wear two petticoats?” said Janet.
“Yes,” said Cat. “Get them on.”
But Janet proved quite unable to get them on without his help. If he left her to do anything, she put it on back to front. He had to put her petticoats on her, button her up the back, tie her garters, fasten her boots, and put her dress on a second time, right way around, and tie its sash for her. When he had finished, it looked all right, but Janet had an odd air of being dressed up, rather than dressed. She looked at herself critically in the mirror. “Thanks, you’re an angel. I look rather like an Edwardian child. And I feel a right Charley.”
“Come on,” said Cat. “Breakfast.” He carried Euphemia, croaking furiously, to the wardrobe and wrapped her firmly in the towel. “Be quiet,” he told her. “I’ll get you changed back as soon as I can, so stop making that fuss, please!” He shut the door on her and wedged it with a page of Gwendolen’s notes. Faint croaking came from behind it. Euphemia had no intention of being quiet. Cat did not really blame her.
“She’s not happy in there,” Janet said, weakening. “Can’t she stay out in the room?”
“No,” said Cat. Frog though she was, Euphemia still looked like Euphemia. He knew Mary would recognize her as soon as she set eyes on her. He took Janet’s resisting elbow and towed her along to the playroom.
“Don’t you two ever get up till the last minute?” said Julia. “I’m sick of waiting politely for breakfast.”
“Eric’s been up for hours,” said Mary, hovering about. “So I don’t know what you’ve both been up to. Oh, what’s Euphemia doing?”
“Mary’s beside herself this morning,” Roger said. He winked. For a moment there were two Marys, one real and one vague and ghostly. Janet jumped. It was only the second piece of witchcraft she had seen and she did not find it easy to get used to.
“I expect it’s Gwendolen’s fault,” said Julia, and she gave Janet one of those meaning stares.
Janet was very put-out. Cat had forgotten to warn her how much Julia had disliked Gwendolen ever since the snakes. And a meaning stare from a witch is worse than a meaning stare from an ordinary person. Julia’s pushed Janet backward across the room, until Cat put himself in the way of it.
“Don’t do that,” he said. “She’s sorry.”
“Is she?” said Julia. “Are you?” she asked, trying to get the stare around Cat to Janet again.
“Yes, horribly sorry,” Janet said fervently, not having the least idea why. “I’ve had a complete change of heart.”
“I’ll believe that when I see it,” said Julia. But she left off staring in order to watch Mary bringing the usual bread, the marmalade, and the jug of cocoa.
Janet looked, sniffed the cocoa steaming from the jug, and her face fell, rather like Gwendolen’s on the first day. “Oh dear. I hate cocoa,” she said.
Mary rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “You and your airs and graces! You never said you hated it before.”
“I—I’ve had a revulsion of feeling,” Janet invented. “When I had my change of heart, all my taste buds changed too. I—you haven’t any coffee, have you?”
“Where? Under the carpet or something?” Mary demanded. “All right. I’ll ask the kitchen. I’ll tell them your taste buds are revolting, shall I?”
Cat was very pleased to hear that cocoa was not compulsory after all. “Could I have coffee too?” he asked, as Mary went to the lift. “Or I prefer tea,