Charmed Life - Diana Wynne Jones [58]
“Let us gossip,” suggested Mr. Nostrum. “I have at least two items of interest to you.”
“We haven’t time,” Janet lied firmly. “Come on, Cat.”
Mr. Nostrum was used to Gwendolen being equally firm. He got up and led them to the Inn door like royalty and waved to them as they went out onto the green. “I’ll see you on Sunday,” he called after them.
“No you won’t!” Janet whispered. Keeping her head down so that Gwendolen’s broad hat hid her from Mr. Nostrum, she whispered to Cat, “Cat, if you do one thing that unbelievably dishonest man wants, you’ll be a fool! I know he told you a pack of lies. I don’t know what he’s really after, but please don’t do it.”
“I know—” Cat was beginning, when Mr. Baslam got up from a bench outside the White Hart and shambled after them.
“Wait!” he puffed, rolling beer fumes over them. “Young lady, young sir, I hope you’re bearing in mind what I said to you. Wednesday. Don’t forget Wednesday.”
“No fear. It haunts my dreams,” said Janet. “Please. We’re busy, Mr. Bustle.”
They walked quickly away across the green. The only other living soul in sight was Will Suggins, who came out of the backyard of the bread shop in order to stare meaningly after them.
“I think I’ve got to do what he wants,” Cat said.
“Don’t,” said Janet. “Though I must say I can’t see what else we can do.”
“About the only thing left is running away,” said Cat.
“Then let’s do that—at once,” said Janet.
They did not exactly run. They walked briskly out of the village on the road Cat thought pointed nearest to Wolvercote. When Janet objected that Wolvercote was the first place anyone at the Castle would think of looking, Cat explained about Mrs. Sharp’s grand contacts in London. He knew Mrs. Sharp would smuggle them away somewhere, and no questions asked. He made himself very homesick by talking of Mrs. Sharp. He missed her dreadfully. He trudged along the country road, wishing it was Coven Street and wishing Janet was not walking beside him making objections.
“Well, you may be right,” Janet said, “and I don’t know where else we could go. How do we get to Wolvercote? Hitchhike?” When Cat did not understand, she explained that it meant getting lifts by waving your thumb.
“That would save a lot of walking,” Cat agreed.
The road he had chosen shortly turned into a very country lane, rutted and grassy and lined with high hedges hung with red bryony berries. There was no traffic of any kind.
Janet managed not to point this out. “One thing,” she said. “If we’re going to make a proper go of this, do promise me you won’t happen to mention You Know Who.” When Cat did not understand this either, she explained, “The man Mr. Nostrum kept calling That Person and the Master of the Castle—you know!”
“Oh,” said Cat. “You mean Chrest—”
“Quiet!” bawled Janet. “I do mean him, and you mustn’t say it. He’s an enchanter and he comes when you call him, stupid! Just think of the way that Mr. Nostrum was scared stiff to say his name.”
Cat thought about this. Gloomy and homesick as he was, he was not anxious to agree with anything Janet said. She was not really his sister, after all. Besides, Mr. Nostrum had not been telling the truth. And Gwendolen had never said Chrestomanci was an enchanter. She would surely never have dared do all the magic she did if she thought he was. “I don’t believe you,” he said.
“All right. Don’t,” said Janet. “Just don’t say his name.”
“I don’t mind,” said Cat. “I hope I never see him again anyway.”
The lane grew wilder as they walked. It was a crisp, warm afternoon. There were nuts in the hedges and great bushes of blackberries. Before they had gone another half mile, Cat found his feelings had changed entirely. He was free. His troubles had been left behind. He and Janet picked the nuts, which were just ripe enough to eat, and laughed a good deal over cracking them. Janet took her hat off—as she told Cat repeatedly, she hated hats—and they filled the crown of it with blackberries