We went down in the lift to the ground floor and made our way through the Reading-Room to the Lounge. And there, sure enough, sat Mr and Mrs Jenkins in a couple of armchairs with a low round glass-covered table between them. There were several other groups in there as well, but the Jenkinses were the only couple sitting alone. Mr Jenkins was reading a newspaper. Mrs Jenkins was knitting something large and mustard-coloured. Only my nose and eyes were above the clasp of my grandmother's handbag, but I had a super view. I could see everything.
My grandmother, dressed in black lace, went thumping across the floor of the Lounge and halted in front of the Jenkinses' table. 'Are you Mr and Mrs Jenkins?' she asked.
Mr Jenkins looked at her over the top of his newspaper and frowned. 'Yes,' he said. 'I am Mr Jenkins. What can I do for you, madam?'
'I'm afraid I have some rather alarming news for you,' she said. 'It's about your son, Bruno.'
'What about Bruno?' Mr Jenkins said.
Mrs Jenkins looked up but went on knitting. 'What's the little blighter been up to now?' Mr Jenkins asked. 'Raiding the kitchen, I suppose.'
'It's a bit worse than that,' my grandmother said. 'Do you think we might go somewhere more private while I tell you about it?'
'Private?' Mr Jenkins said. 'Why do we have to be private?'
'This is not an easy thing for me to explain,' my grandmother said. 'I'd much rather we all went up to your room and sat down before I tell you any more.'
Mr Jenkins lowered his paper. Mrs Jenkins stopped knitting. 'I don't want to go up to my room, madam,' Mr Jenkins said. 'I'm quite comfortable here, thank you very much.' He was a large coarse man and he wasn't used to being pushed around by anybody. 'Kindly state your business and then leave us alone,' he added. He spoke, as though he was addressing someone who was trying to sell him a vacuum-cleaner at the back door.
My poor grandmother, who had been doing her best to be as kind to them as possible, now began to bristle a bit herself. 'We really can't talk in here,' she said. 'There are too many people. This is a rather delicate and personal matter.'
'I'll talk where I dashed well want to, madam,' Mr Jenkins said. 'Come on now, out with it! If Bruno has broken a window or smashed your spectacles, then I'll pay for the damage, but I'm not budging out of this seat!'
One or two other groups in the room were beginning to stare at us now.
'Where is Bruno anyway?' Mr Jenkins said. 'Tell him to come here and see me.'
'He's here already,' my grandmother said. 'He's in my handbag.' She patted the big floppy leather bag with her walking-stick.
'What the heck d'you mean he's in your handbag?' Mr Jenkins shouted.
'Are you trying to be funny?' Mrs Jenkins said, very prim.
'There's nothing funny about this,' my grandmother said. 'Your son has suffered a rather unfortunate mishap.'
'He's always suffering mishaps,' Mr Jenkins said. 'He suffers from overeating and then he suffers from wind. You should hear him after supper. He sounds like a brass band! But a good dose of castor-oil soon puts him right again. Where is the little beggar?'
'I've already told you,' my grandmother said. 'He's in my handbag. But I do think it might be better if we went somewhere private before you meet him in his present state.'
'This woman's mad,' Mrs Jenkins said. 'Tell her to go away.'
'The plain fact is,' my grandmother said, 'that your son Bruno has been rather drastically altered.'
'Altered!' shouted Mr Jenkins. 'What the devil d'you mean altered?'
'Go away!' Mrs Jenkins said. 'You're a silly old woman!'
'I am trying to tell you as gently as I possibly can that Bruno really is in my handbag,' my grandmother said. "My own grandson actually saw them doing it to him.'
'Saw who doing what to him, for heaven's sake?' shouted Mr Jenkins. He had a black moustache which jumped up and down when he shouted.
'Saw the witches turning him into a mouse,' my grandmother said.
'Call the Manager, dear,' Mrs Jenkins said to her husband. 'Have this mad woman thrown out of the hotel.'
At this point, my grandmother's patience came to an end. She fished around in her handbag and found Bruno. She lifted him out and dumped him on the glass-topped table. Mrs Jenkins took one look at the fat little brown mouse who was still chewing a bit of banana and she let out a shriek that rattled the crystals on the chandelier. She sprang out of her chair yelling, 'It's a mouse! Take it away! I can't stand the things!'
'It's Bruno,' my grandmother said.
'You nasty cheeky old woman!' shouted Mr Jenkins. He started flapping his newspaper at Bruno, trying to sweep him off the table. My grandmother rushed forward and managed to grab hold of him before he was swept away. Mrs Jenkins was still screaming her head off and Mr Jenkins was towering over us and shouting, 'Get out of here! How dare you frighten my wife like that! Take your filthy mouse away this instant!'
'Help!' screamed Mrs Jenkins. Her face had gone the colour of the underside of a fish.
'Well, I did my best,' my grandmother said, and with that she turned and sailed out of the room, carrying Bruno with her.
The Plan
When we got back to the bedroom, my grandmother took both me and Bruno out of her handbag and put us on the table. 'Why on earth didn't you speak up and tell your father who you were?' she said to Bruno.
'Because I had my mouth full,' Bruno said. He jumped straight back into the bowl of bananas and went on with his eating.
'What a very disagreeable little boy you are,' my grandmother said to him.
'Not boy,' I said. 'Mouse.'
'Quite right, my darling. But we don't have time to worry about him at this moment. We have plans to make. In about an hour and a half's time, all the witches will be going down to supper in the Dining-Room. Right?'
'Right,' I said.
'And every one of them has got to be given a dose of Mouse-Maker,' she said. 'How on earth are we going to do that?'
'Grandmamma,' I said. 'I think you are forgetting that a mouse can go places where human beings can't.'
'That's quite right,' she said. 'But even a mouse can't go creeping around on the table-top carrying a bottle and sprinkling Mouse-Maker all over the witches' roast beef without being spotted.'
'I wasn't thinking of doing it in the Dining-Room,' I said.
'Then where?' she asked.
'In the kitchen,' I said, 'while their food is being got ready.'
My grandmother stared at me. 'My darling child,' she said slowly, 'I do believe that turning you into a mouse has doubled your brain-power!'
'A little mouse,' I said, 'can go scuttling round the kitchen among the pots and pans, and if he's very careful no one will ever see him.'
'Brilliant!' my grandmother cried out. 'By golly, I think you've got it!'
'The only thing is,' I said, 'how will I know which food is theirs? I don't want to put it in the wrong saucepan. It would be disastrous if I turned all the other guests into mice by mistake, and especially you, Grandmamma.'
'Then you'll just have to creep into the kitchen and find a good hiding-place and wait... and listen. Just lie there in some dark cranny listening and listening to what the cooks are saying... and then, with a bit of luck, somebody's going to give you a clue. Whenever they have a very big party to cook for, the food is always prepared separately.'
'Right,' I said. 'That's what I'll have to do. I shall wait there and I shall listen and I shall hope for a bit of luck.'
'It's going to be very dangerous,' my grandmother said. 'Nobody welcomes a mouse in the kitchen. If they see you, they'll squash you to death.'
'I won't let them see me,' I said.
'Don't forget you'll be carrying the bottle,' she said, 'so you won't be nearly so quick and nippy.'
'I can run quite fast standing up with the bottle in my arms,' I said. 'I did it just now, don't you remember? I came all the way up from The Grand High Witch's room carrying it.'
'What about unscrewing the top?' she sai
d. 'That might be difficult for you.'
'Let me try,' I said. I took hold of the little bottle and using both my front paws, I found I was able to unscrew the cap quite easily.
'That's great,' my grandmother said. 'You really are a very clever mouse.' She glanced at her watch. 'At half-past seven,' she said, 'I shall go down to the Dining-Room for supper with you in my handbag. I shall then release you under the table together with the precious bottle and from then on you'll be on your own. You will have to work your way unseen across the Dining-Room to the door that leads into the kitchen. There will be waiters going in and out of that door all the time. You will have to choose the right moment and nip in behind one of them, but for heaven's sake be sure that you don't get trodden on or squeezed in the door.'
'I'll try not to,' I said.
'And whatever happens, you mustn't let them catch you.'
'Don't go on about it, Grandmamma. You're making me nervous.'
'You're a brave little fellow,' she said. 'I do love you.'
'What shall we do with Bruno?' I asked her.
Bruno looked up. 'I'm coming with you,' he said, speaking with his mouth full of banana. 'I'm not going to miss my supper!'
My grandmother considered this for a moment. 'I'll take you along,' she said, 'if you promise to stay in my bag and keep absolutely silent.'
'Will you pass food down to me from the table?' Bruno asked.
'Yes,' she said, 'if you promise to behave yourself. Would you like something to eat, my darling?' she said to me.
'No, thank you,' I said. 'I'm too excited to eat. And I've got to keep fit and frisky for the big job ahead.'
'It's a big job all right,' my grandmother said. 'You'll never do a bigger one.'
In the Kitchen
'The time has come!' my grandmother said. 'The great moment has arrived! Are you ready, my darling?'
It was exactly half-past seven. Bruno was in the bowl finishing that fourth banana. 'Hang on,' he said. 'Just a few more bites.'
'No!' my grandmother said. 'We've got to go!' She picked him up and held him tight in her hand. She was very tense and nervous. I had never seen her like that before. 'I'm going to put you both in my handbag now,' she said, 'but I shall leave the clasp undone.' She popped Bruno into it first. I waited, clutching the little bottle to my chest. 'Now you,' she said. She picked me up and gave me a kiss on the nose. 'Good luck, my darling. Oh, by the way, you do realize you've got a tail, don't you?'
'A what?' I said.
A tail. A long curly tail.'
'I must say that never occurred to me,' I said. 'Good gracious me, so I have! I can see it now! I can actually move it! It is rather grand, isn't it?'
'I mention it only because it might come in useful when you're climbing about in the kitchen,' my grandmother said. 'You can curl it around and you can hook it on to things and you can swing from it and lower yourself to the ground from high places.'
'I wish I'd known this before,' I said. 'I could have practised using it.'
'Too late now,' my grandmother said. 'We've got to go.' She popped me into her handbag with Bruno, and at once I took up my usual perch in the small side-pocket so that I could poke my head out and see what was going on.
My grandmother picked up her walking-stick and out she went into the corridor to the lift. She pressed the button and the lift came up and she got in. There was no one in there with us.
'Listen,' she said. 'I won't be able to talk to you much once we're in the Dining-Room. If I do, people will think I'm dotty and talking to myself.'
The lift reached the ground floor and stopped with a jerk. My grandmother walked out of it and crossed the lobby of the hotel and entered the Dining-Room. It was a huge room with gold decorations on the ceiling and big mirrors around the walls. The regular guests always had their tables reserved for them and most of them were already in their places and starting to eat their suppers. Waiters were buzzing about all over the place, carrying plates and dishes. Our table was a small one beside the right-hand wall about halfway down the room. My grandmother made her way to it and sat down.
Peeping out of the handbag, I could see in the very centre of the room two long tables that were not yet occupied. Each of them carried a notice fixed on to a sort of silver stick and the notices said, RESERVED FOR MEMBERS OF THE RSPCC.
My grandmother looked towards the long tables but said nothing. She unfolded her napkin and spread it over the handbag on her lap. Her hand slid under the napkin and took hold of me gently. With the napkin covering me, she lifted me up close to her face and whispered, 'I am about to put you on the floor under the table. The table-cloth reaches almost to the ground so no one will see you. Have you got hold of the bottle?'
'Yes,' I whispered back. 'I'm ready, Grandmamma.'
Just then, a waiter in a black suit came and stood by our table. I could see his legs from under the napkin and as soon as I heard his voice, I knew who he was. His name was William. 'Good evening, madam,' he said to my grandmother. 'Where is the little gentleman tonight?'
'He's not feeling very well,' my grandmother said. 'He's staying in his room.'
'I'm sorry to hear that,' William said. 'Today there is green-pea soup to start with, and for the main course you have a choice of either grilled fillet of sole or roast lamb.'
'Pea soup and lamb for me, please,' my grandmother said. 'But don't hurry it, William. I'm in no rush tonight. In fact, you can bring me a glass of dry sherry first.'
'Of course, madam,' William said, and he went away.
My grandmother pretended she had dropped something, and as she bent down, she slid me out from
under the napkin on to the floor under the table. 'Go, darling, go!' she whispered, then she straightened up again.
I was on my own now. I stood clasping the little bottle. I knew exactly where the door into the kitchen was. I had to go about halfway round the enormous Dining-Room to reach it. Here goes, I thought, and like a flash I skittled out from under the table and made for the wall. I had no intention of going across the Dining-Room floor. It was far too risky. My plan was to cling close to the skirting of the wall all the way round until I reached the kitchen door.
I ran. Oh, how I ran. I don't think anyone saw me. They were all too busy eating. But to reach the door leading to the kitchen I had to cross the main entrance to the Dining-Room. I was just about to do this when in poured a great flood of females. I pressed myself against the wall clutching the bottle. At first I saw only the shoes and ankles of these women who were surging in through the door, but when I glanced up a bit higher I knew at once who they were. They were the witches coming in to dinner!
I waited until they had all passed me by, then I dashed on towards the kitchen door. A waiter opened it to go in. I nipped in after him and hid behind a big garbage-bin on the floor. I stayed there for several minutes, just listening to all the talk and the racket. By golly, what a place that kitchen was! The noise! And the steam! And the clatter of pots and pans! And the cooks all shouting! And the waiters all rushing in and out from the Dining-Room yelling the food orders to the cooks! 'Four soups and two lambs and two fish for table twenty-eight! Three apple-pies and two strawberry ice-creams for number seventeen!' Stuff like that going on all the time.
Not far above my head there was a handle sticking out from the side of the garbage-bin. Still clutching the bottle, I gave a leap, turned a somersault in the air, and caught hold of the handle with the end of my tail. Suddenly there I was swinging to and fro upside down. It was terrific. I loved it. This, I told myself, is how a trapeze artist in a circus must feel as he goes swishing through the air high up in the circus tent. The only difference was that his trapeze could only swing backwards and forwards. My trapeze (my tail) could swing me in any direction I wanted. Perhaps I would become a circus mouse after all.
Just then, a waiter came in with a plate in his hand and I heard him saying, 'The old hag on table fourteen says this meat is too tough! She wants another portion!' One o
f the cooks said, 'Gimme her plate!' I dropped to the floor and peeped round the garbage-bin. I saw the cook scrape the meat off the plate and slap another bit on. Then he said, 'Come on, boys, give her some gravy!' He carried the plate round to everyone in the kitchen and do you know what they did? Every one of those cooks and kitchen-boys spat on to the old lady's plate! 'See how she likes it now!' said the cook, handing the plate back to the waiter.
Quite soon another waiter came in and he shouted, 'Everyone in the big RSPCC party wants the soup!' That's when I started sitting up and taking notice. I was all ears now. I edged a bit further round the garbage-bin so that I could see everything that was going on in the kitchen. A man with a tall white hat who must have been the head chef shouted, 'Put the soup for the big party in the larger silver soup-tureen!'
I saw the head chef place a huge silver basin on to the wooden side-bench that ran along the whole length of the kitchen against the opposite wall. Into that silver basin is where the soup is going, I told myself. So that's where the stuff in my little bottle must go as well.
I noticed that high up near the ceiling, above the side-bench, there was a long shelf crammed with saucepans and frying-pans. If I can somehow clamber up on to that shelf, I thought, then I've got it made. I shall be directly above the silver basin.
But first I must somehow get across to the other side of the kitchen and then up on to the middle shelf. A great idea came to me! Once again, I jumped up and hooked my tail around the handle of the garbage-bin. Then, hanging upside down, I began to swing. Higher and higher I swung. I was remembering the trapeze artist in the circus I had seen last Easter and the way he had got the trapeze swinging higher and higher and higher and had then let go and gone flying through the air. So just at the right moment, at the top of my swing, I let go with my tail and went soaring clear across the kitchen and made a perfect landing on the middle shelf!
By golly, I thought, what marvellous things a mouse can do! And I'm only a beginner!
No one had seen me. They were all far too busy with their pots and pans. From the middle shelf I somehow managed to shinny up a little water-pipe in the corner, and in no time at all I was up on the very top shelf just under the ceiling, among all the saucepans and the frying-pans. I knew that no one could possibly see me up there. It was a super position, and I began working my way along the shelf until I was directly above the big empty silver basin they were going to pour the soup into. I put down my bottle. I unscrewed the top and crept to the edge of the shelf and quickly poured what was in it straight into the silver basin below. The next moment, one of the cooks came along with a gigantic saucepan of steaming green soup and poured the whole lot into the silver basin. He put the lid on the basin and shouted, 'Soup for the big party all ready to go out!' Then a waiter arrived and carried the silver basin away.