Charmed Life - Diana Wynne Jones [44]
“I can’t remember,” said Cat.
“Well, it doesn’t respond to anything I can do,” said Mr. Saunders. “You’ll have to do it, Eric. Come over here.”
Cat looked helplessly at Chrestomanci, but Chrestomanci nodded as if he thought Mr. Saunders was quite right. Cat stood up. His legs had gone thick and weak, and his stomach seemed to have taken up permanent quarters in the Castle cellars. He slunk towards the table. When Euphemia saw him coming, she showed her opinion of the matter by taking a frantic leap off the edge of the table. Mr. Saunders caught her in midair and put her back.
“What do I do?” Cat said, and his voice sounded like Euphemia croaking.
Mr. Saunders took Cat by his left wrist and planted Cat’s left hand on Euphemia’s clammy back. “Now take it off her,” he said.
“I—I—” said Cat. He supposed he ought to pretend to try. “Stop being a frog and turn into Euphemia again,” he said, and wondered miserably what they would do to him when Euphemia didn’t.
But, to his astonishment, Euphemia did. The frog turned warm under his fingers and burst into growth. Cat shot a look at Mr. Saunders as the brown lump grew furiously larger and larger. He was almost sure he caught a secret smile on Mr. Saunders’ face. The next second, Euphemia was sitting on the edge of the table. Her clothes were a little crumpled and brown, but there was nothing else froggish about her. “I never dreamed it was you!” she said to Cat. Then she put her face in her hands and cried.
Chrestomanci came up and put his arm around her. “There, there, my dear. It must have been a terrible experience. I think you need to go and lie down.” And he took Euphemia out of the room.
“Phew!” said Janet.
Mary grimly handed out the milk and biscuits. Cat did not want his. His stomach had not yet come back from the cellars. Janet refused biscuits.
“I think the food here is awfully fattening,” she said unwisely. Julia took that as a personal insult. Her handkerchief came out and was knotted. Janet’s glass of milk slipped through her fingers and smashed on the pitted floor.
“Clean it up,” said Mr. Saunders. “Then get out, you and Eric. I’ve had enough of both of you. Julia and Roger, get out magic textbooks, please.”
Cat took Janet out into the gardens. It seemed safest there. They wandered across the lawn, both rather limp after the morning’s experiences.
“Cat,” said Janet, “you’re going to be very annoyed with me, but it’s absolutely essential that I cling to you like a limpet all the time we’re awake, until I know how to behave. You saved my bacon twice this morning. I thought I was going to die when she brought in that frog. Rigor mortis was setting in, and then you turned her back again! I didn’t realize you were a witch too—no, it’s a warlock, isn’t it? Or are you a wizard?”
“I’m not,” said Cat. “I’m not any of those things. Mr. Saunders did it to give me a fright.”
“But Julia is a witch, isn’t she?” said the shrewd Janet. “What have I done to make her hate me so—or is it just general Gwendolenitis?”
Cat explained about the snakes.
“In which case I don’t blame her,” said Janet. “But it’s hard that she’s in the schoolroom at the moment brushing up her witchcraft, and here I am without a rag of a spell to defend myself with. You don’t know of a handy karate teacher, do you?”
“I never heard of one,” Cat said cautiously, wondering what karate might be.
“Oh well,” said Janet. “Chrestomanci’s a wonderfully fancy dresser, isn’t he?”
Cat laughed. “Wait till you see him in a dressing gown!”
“I hardly can. It must be something! Why is he so terrifying?”
“He just is,” said Cat.
“Yes,” said Janet. “He just is. When he saw the frog was Euphemia and went all mild and astonished like that, it froze the goose pimples on my back. I couldn’t have