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“Dead,” said Xemerius. “Strictly speaking.” He put his head on one side. “It’s true, you know. Why won’t you face it, like she said?”
James flicked his handkerchief. “I don’t want to hear this. Cats can’t talk.”
“Do I look like a cat, you stupid ghost?” cried Xemerius.
“You do, rather,” said James, without looking. “Except for the ears, maybe. And the horns. And the wings. And the funny tail. Oh, how I hate these fevered fantasies!”
Xemerius planted himself in front of James. His tail was lashing furiously. “I am not a fantasy. I’m a demon,” he said, and in his annoyance, he spat out a torrent of water on the floor. “A powerful demon. Conjured up by magicians and architects in the eleventh century, as you reckon time, to protect the tower of a church that isn’t standing anymore these days. When my sandstone body was destroyed, hundreds of years ago, this was all that was left of me—a shadow of my former self, so to speak, condemned to wander this earth until the world falls apart. Which could take another few million years, I should think.”
“Tralala, I’m not listening,” said James.
“You’re pathetic,” said Xemerius. “Unlike you, I have no choice—I’m bound to this earth by a magician’s curse. But you could give up your pitiful ghostly existence and go wherever human beings do go when they’re dead.”
“I’m not dead, you stupid kitty cat!” cried James. “I’m only sick in bed with horrible feverish hallucinations. And if we don’t change the subject this minute, I’m leaving!”
“Okay,” I said, trying to use the board eraser to mop up the puddle Xemerius had made. “Let’s go on. Curtseying to a gentleman of the same social rank…”
Xemerius shook his head and flew away over our heads to the door. “I’ll stand guard for you. Think how embarrassing it’d be if anyone found you here curtseying.”
The lunch break wasn’t long enough to learn all the tricks James wanted to teach me, but in the end, I could curtsey in three different ways and hold out my hand to be kissed. (A good thing that custom has died out, if you ask me.) When the other students came back, James bowed to me and left, while I whispered a quick word of thanks.
“So?” asked Lesley.
“James thinks Xemerius is a funny kind of cat, part of his fevered fantasies,” I told her. “I can only hope that what he’s taught me isn’t also distorted by the fever. If not, then now I know what to do if I’m introduced to the Duke of Devonshire.”
“Oh, good,” said Lesley. “So what do you do?”
“Sink into a deep curtsey and stay there for a long time,” I said. “Almost as long as before the king, and for longer than if I was curtseying to a marquis or a count. It’s quite simple, really. And I always have to hold out my hand to be kissed like a good girl and keep on smiling.”
“Well, fancy that! I’d never have expected James to come in useful.” Lesley looked around appreciatively. “You’ll wow them in the eighteenth century.”
“Let’s hope so,” I said. But nothing could cloud my good mood for the rest of the classes. Charlotte and stupid Puffylips would be amazed to find out that I even knew the difference between a Serene Highness and an Illustrious Highness, although they’d done their level best to make it sound as complicated as possible.
“And by the way, I’ve worked out a theory about the magic of the raven,” said Lesley after school, on the way from the classroom to our lockers. “It’s so simple that no one’s thought of it yet. Let’s meet tomorrow morning at your house, and I’ll bring everything I’ve found out. So long as my mum hasn’t decided it’s house-cleaning day again and handed out rubber gloves to everyone—”
“Gwenny?” Cynthia Dale, coming up behind us, slapped me on the back. “Do you remember Regina Curtis who was in the same class as my sister until last year? She’s in hospital with anorexia now. Is that where you want to end up as well?”
“No,” I said, baffled.
“Okay, then eat this! At once!” Cynthia threw me a caramel. I caught it and obediently unwrapped it. But as I was about to put it in my mouth, Cynthia grabbed my arm. “Stop! Are you really going to eat it? So you’re not on a starvation diet?”
“No,” I said again.
“Then Charlotte was lying. She said you kept skipping lunch because you want to be as thin as her. Give me my caramel back. You’re not anorexic after all.” Cynthia put the caramel in her own mouth. “Here, your invitation to my birthday party. It’s going to be fancy dress again. And this year the theme is “Greensleeves.” You can bring your boyfriend with you.”
“Er—”
“It’s a funny thing, but Charlotte said the same. I don’t mind which of you brings that guy, I just want him to be at my party.”
“She’s crazy,” Lesley whispered to me.
“I heard that,” said Cynthia. “You can bring Max, Lesley.”
“Cyn, Max and I haven’t been together for the last six months.”
“Oh, bother,” said Cynthia. “Sounds like too few boys this time. Either you bring some with you or I’ll have to uninvite a few girls again. Aishani, for instance, although she probably won’t come anyway, because her parents don’t let her go to mixed parties … oh, my God, who’s that? Please, someone pinch me!”
“That” was a tall boy with fair hair cut short. He was standing outside the principal’s office with Mr. Whitman. And he seemed to me curiously familiar.
