The Phoenix And The Carpet, Chapter 10

In this latest installment - The Hole in the Carpet - the children have time for yet another adventure on the flying carpet before their mother gets home. As usual, things don't go entirely to plan.

All the chapters are available on the playlist Book at Bedtime: The Phoenix And The Carpet.

Transcript

Hello there,

It's Mandy here.

Thanks for joining me this evening.

We're going to be reading chapter 10 of The Phoenix and the Carpet and the chapter's called The Hole in the Carpet,

Which doesn't sound good,

Does it?

Before I begin,

Please feel free to make yourself really comfortable.

That's great.

Hooray,

Hooray,

Hooray.

Mother comes home today.

Mother comes home today.

Hooray,

Hooray,

Hooray.

Jane sang this simple song directly after breakfast and the phoenix shed crystal tears of affectionate sympathy.

How beautiful,

It said,

Is filial devotion.

She won't be home till past bedtime though,

Said Robert.

We might have one more carpet day.

He was glad that mother was coming home,

But at the same time,

The gladness was contradicted by a feeling of sorrow because now they couldn't go out all day on the carpet.

I do wish we could go and get something nice for mother.

Only she'd want to know where we got it,

Said Anthea,

And she'd never believe the truth.

People never do somehow,

If it's at all interesting.

I'll tell you what,

Said Robert.

Suppose we wished the carpet to take us somewhere where we could find a purse with money in it,

Then we could buy her something.

Suppose it took us somewhere foreign and the purse was full of money that wasn't money at all here,

Then we couldn't spend it and people would bother about where we got it and we shouldn't know how on earth to get out of it all.

Cyril moved the table off the carpet as he spoke and its leg caught in one of Anthea's darns and ripped away most of it,

As well as a large slit in the carpet.

Well,

Now you have done it,

Said Robert.

But Anthea really was a first-class sister.

She didn't say a word until she'd got out the scotch,

Heather mixture fingering wool and the darning needle and the thimble and the scissors,

And by that time she'd been able to get the better of her natural wish to be thoroughly disagreeable and was able to say,

Quite kindly,

Never mind squirrel,

I'll soon mend it.

Cyril thumped her on the back.

He understood exactly how she had felt and he was not an ungrateful brother.

Respecting the purse containing coins,

The phoenix went on,

Scratching its invisible ear thoughtfully.

It might be as well to state clearly the amount which you wish to find as well as the country where you wish to find it and the nature of the coins which you prefer.

It would be indeed a cold moment when you should find a purse containing but three oboloi.

How much is an oboloi?

An obol is about tuppence-ha'penny,

The phoenix replied.

Yes,

Said Jane,

And if you find a purse,

I suppose it's only because someone else has lost it and you ought to take it to the policeman.

The situation,

Remarked the phoenix,

Does indeed bristle with difficulties.

What about a buried treasure,

Said Cyril,

And everyone was dead that it belonged to.

Mother wouldn't believe that,

Said more than one voice.

Wait a sec,

Anthea said,

I've got an idea coming.

Don't speak.

There was silence as she paused with the darning needle in the air.

Suddenly she did speak.

Let's tell the carpet to take us somewhere where we can get the money from Mother's present and get it some way that she'll believe in and not think wrong.

Well,

I must say you're learning the way to get the most out of the carpet,

Said Cyril.

He spoke more heartily and kindly than usual.

Because he remembered how Anthea had refrained from snarking him about tearing the carpet.

Yes,

Said the phoenix,

You certainly are.

And you have to remember that if you take a thing out,

It doesn't stay in.

No one paid any attention to this remark at the time.

But afterwards,

Everyone thought of it.

Do hurry up,

Panther,

Said Robert.

And that was why Anthea did hurry up.

And why the big darn in the middle of the carpet was all open and webby like a fishing net,

Not tight and close like woven cloth,

Which is what a good,

Well-behaved darn should be.

Everyone put on its outdoor things.

The phoenix fluttered onto the mantelpiece and arranged its golden feathers in the glass and all was ready.

Everyone got onto the carpet.

Please go slowly,

Dear carpet,

Anthea began.

We like to see where we're going.

And then she added the difficult twists that have been decided upon.

Next moment,

The carpet,

Stiff and raft-like,

Was sailing over the roofs of Kentish Town.

I wish.

.

.

No,

I don't mean that.

I mean,

It's a pity we aren't higher up,

Said Anthea,

As the edge of the carpet grazed a chimney pot.

That's right.

Be careful,

Said the phoenix.

If you wish when you're on a wishing carpet,

You do wish,

And there's an end of it.

Though,

For a short time,

No one spoke,

And the carpet sailed on in calm magnificence over St Pancras and Kings Cross stations and over the crowded streets of Clerkenwell.

We're going out Greenwich Way,

Said Cyril,

As they crossed the streak of rough,

Tumbled water that was the Thames.

We might go and have a look at the palace.

On and on the carpet swept,

Still keeping much nearer to the chimney pots than the children found comfortable.

And then,

Just over New Cross,

A terrible thing happened.

Jane and Robert were in the middle of the carpet.

Part of them was on the carpet,

And part of them,

The heaviest part,

Was on the Great Central Darm.

It's all very misty,

Said Jane.

It looks partly like out of doors,

And partly like in the nursery at home.

I feel as if I was going to have measles.

I feel exactly the same,

Robert said.

It's the hole,

Said the phoenix.

Robert and Jane at once make a bound to try and get onto the safe part of the carpet,

But the Darm gave way,

And their boots went up,

And the heavy heads and bodies of them went down through the hole,

And they landed in a position,

Something between sitting and sprawling,

On the flat leads on top of a high,

Grey,

Gloomy,

Respectable house whose address was 705 Amersham Road,

New Cross.

The carpet seemed to awaken to new energy as soon as it had got rid of their weight,

And it rose high in the air.

The others lay down flat and peered over the edge of the rising carpet.

Are you hurt,

Cried Cyril,

And Robert shouted,

No,

And the next moment the carpet had sped away,

And Jane and Robert were hidden from sight by a stack of smoky chimneys.

Oh,

How awful,

Said Anthea.

It could have been worse,

Said the phoenix.

What would have been the sentiments of the survivors if that Darm had given way when we were crossing the river?

Yes,

There's that,

Said Cyril,

Recovering himself.

They'll be all right.

They'll howl till someone gets them down,

Or drop tiles into the front garden to attract attention from passers-by.

They can tram it home.

But Anthea would not be comforted.

It's all my fault,

She said.

Let's go home and patch the carpet with something really strong and send it to fetch them.

All right,

Said Cyril.

We must forget Mother's present.

That's all my wish.

Stop,

Cried the phoenix.

The carpet is dropping to earth.

And so it was.

It sank swiftly yet steadily and landed on the pavement of the Deptford Road.

It tipped a little as it landed,

So that Cyril and Anthea naturally walked off it,

And in an instant it had rolled itself up and hidden behind a gate post.

It did this so quickly that not a single person in the Deptford Road noticed.

The phoenix rustled its way into the breast of Cyril's coat,

And almost at the same moment a well-known voice remarked,

Well,

I never.

What on earth are you doing here?

They were face to face with their uncle Reginald.

We did think of going to Greenwich Palace,

Said Cyril.

And where are the others?

Asked Uncle Reginald.

I don't exactly know,

Cyril replied.

Well,

Said Uncle Reginald,

I must fly.

I've a case in the county court.

That's the worst of being a beastly solicitor.

One can't take the chances of life when one gets them.

If only I could come with you to the Painted Hall and give you lunch at the ship afterwards.

The uncle felt in his pocket.

I mustn't enjoy myself,

He said,

But that's no reason why you shouldn't.

Here,

Divide this by four.

Take care of yourselves.

Adieu.

And waving a cheery farewell with his neat umbrella,

The good and high-hatted uncle passed on,

Leaving Cyril and Anthea to exchange eloquent glances over the shining golden sovereign that lay in Cyril's hand.

Well,

Said Anthea.

Well,

Said Cyril.

Well,

Said the phoenix.

Good old carpet,

Said Cyril,

Joyously.

It was clever of it.

So adequate and yet so simple,

Said the phoenix.

Oh,

Come on home and let's mend the carpet.

I'm a beast.

I'd forgotten the others just for a minute,

Said Anthea.

They unrolled the carpet quickly and slyly and the moment their feet were on it,

Anthea wished to be at home and instantly they were.

Anthea set to work at once to draw the edges of the broken down together and Cyril hastily went out and bought a large piece of the marble-patterned American oilcloth which careful housewives use to cover dresses and kitchen tables.

It was the strongest thing he could think of.

Then they set to work to line the carpet throughout with the oilcloth.

The nursery felt empty without the others and Cyril didn't feel so sure as he had done about their being able to tram it home.

So he tried to help Anthea which was very good of him but not much use.

The phoenix watched them for a time but it grew restless.

It fluffed up its splendid feathers and said,

I can bear it no longer.

My Robert,

Who set my egg to hatch,

In the bosom of whose Norfolk raiment I have nestled so often and so pleasantly,

I think if you'll excuse me.

Cyril opened the window.

The phoenix flapped its sun-bright wings and vanished.

So that's all right,

Said Cyril,

Taking up his needle and instantly pricking his hand in a new place.

Of course,

I know what you really want to know is not what Anthea and Cyril did but what happened to Jane and Robert after they fell through the carpet.

But I had to tell you the other first.

That is one of the most annoying things about stories,

You know.

You can't tell all the different parts of them at the same time.

Robert's first remark when he found himself seated on the damp,

Cold,

Sooty leds was,

Here's a go.

Jane's first act was tears.

Dry up,

Pussy.

Don't be a little duffer,

Said her brother kindly.

And then he looked about,

Just as Cyril had known he would,

For something to throw down so as to attract the attention of the wayfarers far below in the street.

He couldn't find anything.

Curiously enough,

There were no stones on the leds and not even a loose tile.

The roof was of slate and every single slate knew its place and kept it.

But,

As so often happens,

In looking for one thing,

He found another.

There was a trapdoor leading down into the house and that trapdoor was not fastened.

Come here,

Jane,

He cried.

Lend a hand to heave this up.

If we can get into the house,

We might sneak down without meeting anyone.

Come on.

They heaved up the door and as they bent to look into the hole below,

It fell back with a hollow clang on the leds behind and with its noise was mingled a blood-curdling scream from underneath.

Discovered,

Hissed Robert.

Oh,

My cat's alive.

They were looking down into an attic which was also a lumber room.

It had boxes and broken chairs,

Old fenders and picture frames and rag bags hanging from nails.

In the middle of the floor was a box,

Open,

Half full of clothes.

Other clothes lay on the floor in neat piles.

In the middle of the piles of clothes sat a lady with her feet sticking out straight in front of her and it was she who had screamed and who,

In fact,

Was still screaming.

Don't,

Cried Jane.

Please don't.

We won't hurt you.

Where are the rest of your gang?

Asked the lady,

Stopping short in the middle of a scream.

The others have gone on,

Said Jane truthfully.

The lady got up and picking her way between the piles of clothes,

She got to the door and threw it.

She shut it behind her and the two children could hear her calling,

Septimus,

Septimus.

Now,

Said Robert,

I'll drop first.

He hung by his hands and dropped through the trap door.

Now you,

Hang by your hands.

I'll catch you.

Oh,

There's no time for jaw.

Drop,

I say.

Jane dropped.

Robert tried to catch her and even before they had finished the breathless roll among the piles of clothes,

Which was what his catching ended in,

He whispered,

We'll hide behind those fenders and things.

They'll think we've gone along the roofs.

Then when all's calm,

We'll creep down the stairs.

They hid.

A corner of an iron bedstead stuck into Robert's side and Jane had only standing room for one foot,

But they bore it.

And when the lady came back,

Not with Septimus,

But with another lady,

They held their breath and their hearts beat thickly.

Gone,

Said the first lady.

Poor little thing's quite mad,

My dear.

And at large.

We must lock this room and send for the police.

Let me look out,

Said the second lady.

So the two ladies dragged a box under the trap door and put another box on the top of it.

And then they both climbed up carefully and put their tidy heads out of the trap door to look for the mad children.

Now,

Whispered Robert,

Getting the bedstead leg out of his side.

They crept out from their hiding place and out through the door before the two ladies had done looking out onto the empty leads.

They tiptoed down the stairs,

One flight,

Two flights.

Horror!

A servant was coming up with a loaded scuttle.

The children crept swiftly through the first open door.

The room was a study,

Calm and gentlemanly,

With rows of books,

A writing table and a pair of embroidered slippers warming themselves in the fender.

The children hid behind the window curtains.

As they passed the table,

They saw on it a missionary box with its bottom label torn off,

Open and empty.

Oh,

How awful,

Whispered Jane.

We shall never get away.

Hush,

Said Robert.

Not a moment too soon.

For the next instant,

The two ladies came into the room.

They didn't see the children,

But they saw the empty missionary box.

I knew it,

Said one.

Selina,

It was a gang.

The children were not mad.

They were sent to distract our attention while their confederates robbed the house.

I'm afraid you're right,

Said Selina.

Downstairs,

No doubt,

Collecting the silver milk jug and sugar basin and the punch ladle that was Uncle Joe's and Aunt Jerusha's teaspoons.

I shall go down.

Don't be rash,

Said Selina.

Amelia,

We must call for the police from the window.

Selina,

Rushing to the window,

Came face to face with the hidden children.

Jane,

You're not alone.

Jane stepped out,

Frowning.

We aren't burglars and we haven't any gang and we didn't open your missionary box.

But Miss Selina seized Jane and Miss Amelia captured Robert.

The children found themselves held fast by strong hands.

We've got you at any rate,

Said Miss Amelia.

Selina,

Your captive is smaller than mine.

You open the window at once and call murder as loud as you can.

Selina obeyed,

But when she'd opened the window,

Instead of calling murder,

She called Septimus because at that very moment she saw her nephew coming in at the gate.

In another minute,

He had let himself in with his latch key and had mounted the stairs.

As he came into the room,

Jane and Robert each uttered a shriek of joy.

It's our own clergyman,

Cried Jane.

Don't you remember us,

Asked Robert.

You married our burglar for us.

Septimus,

Said Amelia.

These abandoned children are members of a desperate burgling gang.

We're robbing the house.

They have already forced the missionary box open.

The Reverend Septimus passed his hand wearily over his brow.

I opened the box myself,

He said.

This morning I found I had not enough small change for the mother's independent unity,

Measles and croup insurance payments.

I suppose this is not a dream,

Is it?

Dream?

No,

Indeed.

Search the house.

I insist upon it.

The curate,

Pale and trembling,

Searched the house,

Which,

Of course,

Was free of burglars.

When he came back,

He sank wearily into his chair.

Aren't you going to let us go,

Asked Robert.

We've never done anything to you.

It's all the carpet's fault.

It dropped us on the leads.

We couldn't help it.

You know how it carried you over to the island and you had to marry the burglar to the cook.

Oh,

My head,

Said the curate.

Never mind your head just now,

Said Robert.

This is a judgment on me for something,

I suppose,

Said the Reverend Septimus,

Wearily.

But I really cannot at the moment remember what.

Send for the police,

Said Miss Selina.

Send for a doctor,

Said the curate.

Do you think they are mad then,

Said Miss Amelia.

I think I am,

Said the curate.

Aunt Selina,

Said the curate.

And Aunt Amelia,

Believe me,

This is only an insane dream.

You will realise it soon.

It has happened to me before.

But do not let us be unjust,

Even in a dream.

Do not hold the children.

They have done no harm.

As I said before,

It was I who opened the box.

The strong bony hands unwillingly loosened their grasp.

Robert shook himself and stood in sulky resentment.

But Jane ran to the curate and embraced him so suddenly that he had not time to defend himself.

You're a dear,

She said.

It is like a dream just at first,

But you get used to it.

Now do let us go.

There's a good,

Kind,

Honourable clergyman.

But all the curate could now say was,

Oh,

My head.

Jane and Robert felt quite ill with helplessness and hopelessness.

A conscientious curate is a very difficult thing to manage.

And then,

Just as the hopelessness and helplessness were getting to be almost more than they could bear,

The two children suddenly felt that extraordinary shrinking feeling that you always have when you're just about to vanish.

And then they had vanished.

And the Reverend Septimus was left alone with his aunts.

I knew it was a dream,

He cried wildly.

I've had something like it before.

Did you dream it too,

Aunt Selina?

And you,

Aunt Amelia?

I dreamt that you did,

You know.

Aunt Selina looked at him and then at Aunt Amelia.

Then she said boldly,

What do you mean?

We haven't been dreaming anything.

You must have dropped off in your chair.

The curate heaved a sigh of relief.

Oh,

If it's only I,

He said.

Afterwards,

Aunt Selina said to the other aunt,

Yes,

I know it was an untruth and I shall doubtless be punished for it in due course.

But I could see the poor dear fellow's brain was giving way before my very eyes.

He couldn't have stood the strain of three dreams.

It was odd,

Wasn't it?

All three of us dreaming the same thing at the same moment.

We must never tell,

Dear Seppi.

But I shall send an account of it to the Psychical Society with stars instead of names,

You know.

And she did.

And you can still read all about it in one of the Society's fat blue books.

Of course,

You understand what had happened.

The intelligent phoenix had simply gone straight off to the Samyad,

Another of its mythical friends,

And had wished Robert and Jane at home.

And they were at home at once.

Cyril and Anthea had not half finished mending the carpet.

When the joyful emotions of reunion had calmed down a little,

They all went out and spent what was left of Uncle Reginald's sovereign in presence for Mother.

They bought her a pink silk handkerchief,

A pair of blue and white vases,

A bottle of scent,

A packet of Christmas candles,

And a cake of soap shaped and coloured like a tomato,

And one that was so like an orange that almost anyone you'd given it to would have tried to peel it.

Also,

They bought a cake with icing on and the rest of the money they spent on flowers to put in the vases.

When they had arranged all the things on a table,

With the candles stuck up on a plate,

Ready to light the moment Mother's cab was heard,

They washed themselves thoroughly and put on tidier clothes.

Good old Phoenix,

Said Robert.

Ah,

Said the Phoenix,

It is fortunate for you that I am such a competent bird.

There's Mother's cab,

Cried Anthea.

And the Phoenix hid and they lit the candles and next moment Mother was home again.

She liked her presence very much and found their story of Uncle Reginald and the sovereign easy and even pleasant to believe.

Good old carpet were Cyril's last sleepy words.

What there is of it,

Said the Phoenix from the cornice pole.

To be continued.

Reviews

Well, it took me 6 nights, but I finally finished this chapter (at dinner, instead of bedtime!) You have such a lovely voice Mandy! Thank you!

Great though I thought it was missing something but anyway I’d give this a 9.5/10

(Edit) YES TWO MORE LETS GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Another recommendation is war horse by michal morpurgo a great book but it does have loads of sad and interesting moments inside the pages with ink so pls do war horse its one of my favourites

(Edit 2z) oh alright I’ll think of some other books

Really enjoying the story…. Looking forward to the next chapter.

Wow. What a sensational imagination! And you are such a dear for sharing it🙏🏽🙏🏽🥰