The Ogre Downstairs

Sally McIntyre looked from one side to the other and sighed. “I wish you’d all try to remember there are five of you now,” she said. “This was the most awful din.”

“Sorry, Sally,” said Malcolm and Douglas at once, in a well-behaved chorus.

“And Caspar,” said Sally, “Jack says you’re welcome to play records any time he’s out.”

“Big deal!” said Caspar, not at all well-behaved. “What am I supposed to do when he’s always in?”

“Do without,” said Douglas. “I could do without Indigo Rubber too, for that matter. They stink.”

“So does your guitar playing,” Johnny retorted, in Caspar’s defence.

“Now, now, Johnny,” said his mother. “Will you three all come in here a minute, please.”

They herded moodily back into the boys’ room and looked mournfully at their mother’s harrowed face.

“Gracious, what a mess!” was the first thing she said. Then, “Listen, all of you, how many times have I got to tell you to be considerate to poor Malcolm and Douglas? It’s very hard on them, because they’ve had to give up having separate rooms and change schools too. They’re having a far more difficult time than you are.” There was a heavy-breathing silence, in which Caspar managed not to point out that Malcolm, in particular, made sure that they had a difficult time too.

“It will be better,” said Sally, “when we can afford a larger house. Just have patience. And, in the meantime, suppose we tidy this room a little.” She stooped to pick up the brown paper at her feet and revealed the chemistry set. “Wherever did you get this?”

“The O—Jack gave it to me just now,” said Johnny.

Sally’s worn face broke into an enchanted smile. “Wasn’t that kind of him!” she exclaimed. She picked up the lid of the box and examined it lovingly. They watched her glumly. Quite the worst part of the whole business was the way the Ogre seemed to have cast a spell on their mother, so that whatever he did she thought he was right. “How lavish!” she said. “Non-toxic, guaranteed non-explosive – Oh, you must be pleased with this, Johnny!”

“He gave one to Malcolm too,” Johnny said.

“That was thoughtful,” said Sally. “Then he won’t feel left out.”

“But we do, Mummy,” said Gwinny. “He didn’t give anything to me and Caspar. Or Douglas,” she added, not wishing the Ogre to outdo her in fairness.

“Oh, I do wish you’d be reasonable, Guinevere,” said Sally unreasonably. “You know we’re hard up just now. Come and set the table and stop complaining. And this room is to be tidy before supper. I’ll ask Jack to make an inspection.”

This threat was enough to cause Johnny and Caspar a little energetic work. By the time the Ogre’s heavy feet were heard on the stairs, Caspar had piled books, papers and records in a sort of heap by the wall, and Johnny had pushed most of the construction kits under his bed and the cupboard, so that, apart from the chemistry set, the floor was almost clear.

The Ogre stood in the doorway, with his hands in his pockets and his pipe in his mouth and looked round the room with distaste. “You do like to live in squalor, don’t you?” he said. “I suppose all those toffee bars are an essential part of your diet? OK. I’ll report a clear floor. How are you getting on with that chemistry set?”

“I like it,” Johnny said, with a polite smile. “But I’ve been too busy clearing up to use it yet.”

The Ogre’s heavy eyebrows went up and he looked rather pointedly round the room. “I’ll leave you to it, then,” he said. A thought struck him. “I suppose I ought in fairness to make a surprise inspection over the way,” he said. They watched him turn and walk across the landing. They saw him open the door to Malcolm’s and Douglas’s room. They waited hopefully. It would be wonderful if, for once, it was those two who got into trouble.

Nothing happened, however, except for a surprisingly strong stench, which swept across the landing and made Caspar cough. Malcolm’s voice followed it. “This chemistry set is positively brilliant, Father! Look at this.”

“Having fun, are you?” said the Ogre, and he shut the door rather hastily and went downstairs.

“Pooh!” said Caspar.

“I just like that!” said Johnny. “If it had been us making a smell like that, we wouldn’t half have got it! All right then. Watch me after supper. I’ll make the worst stink you ever smelt, and if he says anything, I’ll say, what about Malcolm?”

Johnny was as good as his word. After supper, he set to work in the middle of the carpet, mixing all the strongest and likeliest-looking things from the various tubes and phials and heating them with the spirit lamp to see what happened. When he found a good smell, he poured it carefully into a toothmug and mixed another. The savour of the room went through rotten cabbage, elderly egg, mouldy melon, gasworks and bad breath; blue smoke hung about in it. Caspar, who was lying on his bed doing history homework, coughed considerably, but he bore it in a good cause.

When Gwinny came in instead of going to bed, she was exquisitely disgusted. She sat beside Johnny in her pink nightdress, wriggling her bare toes and pretending to smoke one of the Ogre’s pipes that she had stolen. “Eeugh!” she said, and peered at Johnny’s flushed face through the gathering smoke. “We look like a witches’ convent. Caspar looks like a devil looming through the smoke.”

“Coven,” said Caspar. “Devil yourself.”

Giggling, Gwinny stuck her spiky hair out round her head and carefully tapped some of the ash out of the pipe into the toothmug. The mixture fizzed a little. “Do you think it’ll explode now?” she asked hopefully.

“Shouldn’t think so,” said Johnny. “Move, or you’ll get burnt.”

“Is it smelly enough?” asked Gwinny.

“I still haven’t found the one Malcolm got,” admitted Johnny.

“Try a dead fish or so. That should do it,” Caspar suggested. Gwinny squealed with laughter.

“Gwinny!” boomed the voice of the Ogre. “Are you in bed?”

Gwinny dropped the pipe, jumped up and fled. In her hurry, she knocked the toothmug flying and Johnny was too late to save it. Half the mixture spilt on the carpet. The rest splashed muddily on Gwinny’s legs and nightdress. Gwinny squealed again as she raced for the door. “It’s cold!” But she dared not stop to apologise. She continued racing, up the next stairs and into her little room on the top floor. She left behind her the most appalling smell. It was worlds worse than the one Malcolm had produced. It was so horrible that it awed them. They were staring at one another in silence, when Gwinny began to scream.

“Caspar! Johnny! Caspar! Oh, come quickly!”

CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_9355c78f-24c1-5ebb-b2af-67d039dc0a8d)

Caspar and Johnny pelted up to Gwinny’s room regardless of noise. Johnny thought she was on fire, Caspar that she was being eaten away by acids. They burst into the room and stood staring. Gwinny did not seem to be there. Her lamp was lit, her bed was empty, her window shut, and her doll’s house and all her other things arranged around as usual, but they could not see Gwinny.

“She’s gone,” said Caspar helplessly.

“No I haven’t,” said Gwinny, her voice quivering rather. “I’m up here.” Both their heads turned upwards. Gwinny appeared to be hanging from the ceiling. Her shoulders were lodged in the corner where the roof stopped sloping and turned into flat ceiling, her bony legs were dangling straight down beneath her, and her hands were nervously clasped in front of her. She looked a bit like a puppet. “And I can’t come down,” she added.

“However did you get up?” demanded Johnny.

“I sort of floated,” said Gwinny. “I went all light after that stuff splashed on me, and while I was getting into bed I got so light that I just went straight up and stayed here.”

“Lordy!” said Johnny. “Suppose the window had been open!” It was a nasty thought. Both boys had visions of a light, leaf-like Gwinny floating out into the night and then up and up, unable to stop, like a hydrogen balloon.

“Let’s get her down,” said Caspar. “Come on.”

By standing on the bed, Caspar thought he could just reach Gwinny’s feet, if he jumped as he reached. Johnny stood in front of the bed to help catch her. Caspar got on the bed and jumped. His fingers brushed Gwinny’s feet, but he could not get a grip. To his annoyance, the slight push he had given her was enough to send Gwinny bobbing gently out into the middle of the room, quite out of reach.

“Oh dear!” said Gwinny. “Could you lasso me or something?”

Johnny took the cord off Gwinny’s dressing gown to try. But he remembered he had never been able to make a lasso that worked. “I’ll throw it,” he said. “You catch it. Both hands and carefully, mind.” He threw the cord upwards – quite a good shot. It hit Gwinny’s chest and slithered away down her legs. But Gwinny had always been hopeless at catching things. She missed the cord and went bobbing and twirling away towards the window with the movement.

“That’s no good,” said Caspar. “She’ll be all night before she gets hold of it. Gwinny, can you work yourself along the ceiling, back over the bed, and I’ll have another go at catching you.”

“I’ll try,” Gwinny said doubtfully. She put up one hand and pushed at the ceiling. The next moment, to the surprise of all three, she was swooping through the air towards the bed. Caspar raced after her, but, by the time he reached the bed, Gwinny had rebounded from the sloping roof and swooped out into the middle of the ceiling again. “Ooh!” she said, with her spiky head bobbing excitedly against the flex of the light. “That was ever such a nice feeling! I think I’ll do it again.” And, to Caspar’s exasperation, Gwinny began pushing with a hand here, then there, swooping this way and that and laughing. Johnny started to laugh too, because Gwinny looked like a gawky pink chicken with her nightdress and long bony legs.

“We must make her stop being so silly,” Caspar said. “Gwinny,” he said to the soles of Gwinny’s swooping feet, “we’ve got to get you down. Don’t you understand? Suppose the Ogre finds you like that.”

“He wouldn’t be able to catch me,” Gwinny said gaily, shooting from the window to the space above the door.