Arabel and Mortimer (13 page)

Today a whole lot of interesting things were happening in the garden directly across the road from the Joneses' house.

Before breakfast a huge excavator with a long metal neck and a pair of grabbing jaws like a crocodile had come trundling along the road. And it had started in at once, very fast, digging a deep hole. This was to be the entrance to an underground parking garage, which was going to be right underneath Rainwater Crescent Garden. The excavator had dug its deep hole at the end of the garden where the children's sandpit used to be. Arabel was sorry about that; so was Mortimer. They had been fond of playing in the sandpit. Arabel liked building castles; Mortimer liked jumping on them and flattening them out. Also, he liked burrowing deep in the sand, working it in thoroughly among his feathers, and then waiting till he was home to shake himself out. But now there was a hole as deep as a house where the sandpit had been, and a lot of men standing round the edge of it, talking to one another and waving their arms in a very excited manner, while the excavator stood idly beside them, doing nothing, and hanging its head like a horse that wants its feedbag.

While the excavator had been at work digging, a large crowd of people had collected to watch it. Now that it had stopped, they had all wandered off and were doing different things in the Crescent Garden. Some were flying kites. The kites were all kinds—like boats, like birds, like fish, and some that were just long silvery streamers which very easily got caught in trees and hung there flapping. Mr. Walpole the gardener hated that sort, because they looked untidy in
the trees, and the owners were always climbing up to rescue them, and breaking branches. Other people were skipping with skipping ropes. Others were skating on skateboards along the paved bit in the middle of the lawn where the band sometimes played. This was just right for skateboards, as it sloped up slightly at each end, which gave the skaters a good start, and they were doing beautiful things, turning and gliding and whizzing and jumping up into the air, and weaving past each other very cleverly.

Arabel specially loved watching the skaters.

"Oh, please, Ma," she said to her mother, who came into the bedroom presently and started rummaging crossly about in Arabel's clothes cupboard. "Oh, please, Ma, couldn't Mortimer and I have a skateboard? I
would
like one ever so much, and so would Mortimer, wouldn't you, Mortimer?"

But Mortimer was looking out of the window very intently and did not reply.

"A
skateboard
?" said Mrs. Jones, who seemed put out about something. "In the name of goodness, what will you think of next. I should think
not,
indeed! Nasty, dangerous things, break your leg as soon as you look at them, ought to be banned by Act of Parking Lot, they should, banging into people's shins and
shopping baskets in the High Street. Oh my dear cats alive,
now
what am I going to do? Granny Jones has just phoned to say she'll be coming tomorrow morning, and your blue velveteen pinafore at the cleaners' because of that time Mortimer got excited with the éclairs at Penny Conway's birthday party; and I haven't yet made you a dress out of that piece of pink georgette that Granny Jones brought for you the last time she came; I'll just have to run it up into a frock for you now; why ever in the world can't Granny Jones give us a bit more
notice
before she comes on a visit, I'd like to ask? There's the best sheets at the laundry, too, oh dear, I don't know I'm sure—"

And Mrs. Jones bustled off down the stairs again.

Arabel wrapped her arms round her knees. She liked Granny Jones, but the pink georgette sounded very chilly; Arabel hated having new clothes tried on because of the drafts, and her mother's cold hands, and the pins that sometimes got stuck in her; besides, she would much rather have gone on wearing her jeans and sweater.

Mortimer the raven had taken no notice of this conversation. He was sitting as quiet as a mushroom, watching Mr. Walpole the gardener, who had gone to the shed where he kept his tools, and wheeled out an enormous grass-cutting machine called a LawnSabre.

Just now this LawnSabre was Mortimer's favorite
thing in the whole world, and he spent a lot of every day hoping that he would see Mr. Walpole using it. What Mortimer wanted even more was to be allowed to drive the LawnSabre himself. It was not at all likely that he
would
be allowed; firstly, the LawnSabre was very dangerous, because it had two terribly sharp blades that whirled round and round underneath. It was covered all over with warning notices in large print:
DO NOT USE THIS MACHINE UNLESS WEARING DOUBLE-THICK LEATHER BOOTS WITH METAL TOE CAPS. NEVER ALLOW THIS MACHINE NEAR CHILDREN. DO NOT RUN THIS MACHINE BACKWARDS OR SIDEWAYS OR UPHILL OR DOWNHILL. NEVER TRY TO LIFT THIS MACHINE UNTIL THE BLADES HAVE COMPLETELY STOPPED TURNING
. Secondly, Mr. Walpole was very particular indeed about his machine and never let anybody else touch it, even humans, let alone ravens.

Now Mr. Walpole was starting it up. First he turned a couple of switches. Then, very energetically, he pulled out a long string half a dozen times. At about the eighth or ninth pull the machine suddenly let out a loud chattering roar. Mortimer watched all this very closely; his head was stuck forward, and his black boot-button eyes were bright with interest. Next, Mr. Walpole wheeled the LawnSabre onto the grass, keeping his booted feet well out of its way. He pulled a lever and pushed the machine off across the
lawn, leaving a long stripe of neat short grass behind, like a stair carpet, as the blades underneath whirled round, shooting out a shower of cut grass blades.

"Kaaark," said Mortimer gently to himself, and he began to jump up and down.

"It's no use, Mortimer," said Arabel, who guessed what he meant. "I'm afraid Mr. Walpole would never let you push his mower."

"Nevermore," said Mortimer.

"Why don't you watch Sandy Smith?" said Arabel. "He's doing a lot of lovely things."

Mortimer sank his head into his neck feathers in a very dejected manner. He was not interested in Sandy Smith; and Mr. Walpole was now far away, over on the opposite side of the paved central area where the skaters were skating.

Arabel, however, paid careful attention to the things that Sandy Smith was doing. He was a boy who lived in Rainwater Crescent, next door but three to the Joneses, and he was training to go into a circus. He had come out into the Crescent Garden to practice his act, and he was doing tricks with three balls.

He was throwing them up into the air, one after another, and catching them with a hand under his knee, or behind his back, or in his mouth, or under his chin, or bouncing them off his knee, his elbow, his nose, the top of his head, or the sole of his foot;
meanwhile, he played a tune on a nose organ which was clipped to his nose.

Arabel thought Sandy very clever indeed, though she could not hear the tune because of the noise made by Mr. Walpole's mower. But Mortimer was still watching Mr. Walpole, who had now worked his way round to this side of the garden again.

"Arabel, dearie," called her mother. "Come down here a minute. I want to measure you before I cut out your dress. You've grown at least an inch since I made your blue."

"
You'd
better come, too, Mortimer," said Arabel.

"Nevermore," grumbled Mortimer, who would sooner have stayed on the windowsill watching Mr.
Walpole cutting the grass. But Arabel picked him up and tucked him firmly under her arm. Left to himself, Mortimer had been known to chew all the putty out from the window frame, so that the glass fell out into the front garden.

Arabel carried Mortimer down the stairs into the dining room. There, Mrs. Jones had pulled out her pedal sewing machine from where it stood by the wall and taken off the lid; and on the dining table she had laid out a long strip of pale, flimsy pink material. It looked very thin and chilly to Arabel.

"Take your cardigan off, dearie," said Mrs. Jones. "I want to measure round your middle."

Arabel put Mortimer on the windowsill. But this window looked out into the Joneses' back garden, where nothing interesting was happening. Mortimer flopped across onto a chair and began studying Mrs. Jones's sewing machine.

A sewing machine was not a LawnSabre, but it was better than nothing. At least it was
there,
right in the room.

"Kaaark," said Mortimer thoughtfully to himself.

Arabel slowly took off her nice thick, warm cardigan.

Mortimer inspected the sewing machine. It had a bobbin of pink thread on top, a big wheel at the right-hand end, a lot of silvery twiddles at the other end,
and a needle that went up and down between the metal toes of a two-pronged foot.

"Ma," said Arabel when she had been measured and put on her cardigan again—the cardigan felt cold now—"Ma, couldn't you take Mortimer and me across the road into the Crescent Garden? Sandy's there, juggling, and Mr. Walpole, too; he'd keep an eye on us—"

"No time just now," said Mrs. Jones through one corner of her mouth—the rest of her mouth was pressed tight on a row of pins—"besides, I'll be wanting to measure again in a minute. Why can't you play in the back garden, nicely, with your spade and fork?"

"Because we want to watch Sandy and Mr. Walpole," said Arabel.

"Kaaark," said Mortimer. He wanted to watch the LawnSabre.

"Well, if you want to watch, you'd better go back upstairs," said Mrs. Jones. "I'll need you again as soon as I've sewed up the skirt."

She laid a piece of paper pattern over the pink stuff on the table, pinned it on with some of the pins from her mouth, and started quickly snipping round the edge. The scissors made a gritty, scrunching noise along the table; every now and then Mrs. Jones stopped to make a snick in the edge of the pink stuff. Then, when she had two large fan-shaped pieces cut out, she unpinned the paper pattern from them, pinned them to each other, and slid them under the metal foot of the sewing machine.

"What are those pieces?" asked Arabel.

"That's the back and front of the skirt," said Mrs. Jones, sitting down at the sewing machine and starting to work the pedal with her foot.