Diana Wynne Jones’s Fantastical Journeys Collection. Diana Wynne Jones

cook slyly tried to prise a piece of tile away. Aunt Beck turned and looked at him and he hastily took his hand away. He followed us, muttering about damn witches, and Ivar followed him, muttering about his ankle.

      We went through spaces with mysterious pits in the ground and a square with a round pool of water in the middle and another with a regular, round hillock in the centre. Ogo chattered to Aunt Beck the whole way, trying to work out what the spaces had once been. To my disappointment, Aunt Beck had no more idea than the rest of us. And Ivar never stopped complaining.

      I got really annoyed with him. “Ivar,” I said, “just shut up, will you! You sound utterly ignoble!”

      “But my ankle hurts,” he said.

      “Then bear it. Behave like a prince should,” I said.

      “I—” he began. Then he shut his mouth with a gulp. He stopped complaining, but he hobbled worse than ever and glowered at me whenever I looked at him.

      He’s been spoilt all his life, I thought. I must start training him to be a good husband while he’s away from Mevenne. She can’t have been a good influence.

      This was just before we came out into a flat, round space with the broken remains of pillars regularly around it. The pillars were taller than any of us, but they did not look so tall because they were surrounded by bushes of a kind I had never seen before: glossy-leaved and laden with small white flowers. A gust of fine, sweet scent blew in the wind from them.

      “Ah, I have it,” Aunt Beck said to Ogo. “This was once a temple. Those are kemmle bushes. They grow them in the great fane at Dromray too.”

      “What are the rest of the buildings then?” Ogo wanted to know, as we threaded our way through the bushes.

      As we came out into open pavement in the middle of the circle, Aunt Beck said, “How am I to tell? The priests needed somewhere to live, I suppose.”

      There was a cry from above us. We all looked upwards. The ugliest cat I had ever beheld was bounding gladly from pillar to pillar towards us. It was pale-furred and marked in grey stripes and splotches, and all legs and angles, with a long skinny tail like a snake. Its ears were too big for its flat, triangular face. Its eyes were huge and green-blue like the tiles on the broken fireplace. But it growled with pleasure at the sight of us and, when it came to the nearest pillar, it jumped down – the way that cats do, reaching with its forepaws first, as far down as it could, and then risking a leap – and crashed in among the bushes. As it came crashing out and trotted towards us, we saw it was huge for a cat, at least as big as King Kenig’s deerhounds.

      The sailor said, “Why didn’t I bring my bow?” and backed away. Ivar hid behind Ogo, which meant that Ogo couldn’t back away, though I could see he wanted to.

      He said in a shaky voice, “What a plug-ugly creature!”

      “True,” said Aunt Beck. “But not fierce, I think.”

      The cat came trotting straight up to me, for some reason, and I could hear him purring as he came, like someone rasping a file on a stone. I bent down and rubbed his ears and face, just the way I would have rubbed one of the castle wolfhounds. The cat loved it. His purr became a rumble. He pushed himself against me and wrapped his tail around my legs. Close to, his coat had a sort of pink look, as if his skin were showing through. “You are a plug-ugly,” I said to him, “but you must be awfully lonely here.”

      “Oh, he’s bound to have a mate somewhere,” Aunt Beck said and went to have a closer look at the pillars. They didn’t seem to tell her much.

      “Let’s go,” Ivar said. “This place is boring.”

      Aunt Beck looked around for the sun, which was quite high, beaming through the strange lilac haze. “Yes,” she said. “I wouldn’t put it past Seamus Hamish to leave without us.” She turned to go, and stopped, quite unusually unsure. “Do you remember where we came in?” she said to Ogo.

      At that, they all milled about, bewildered, except for me. I was kneeling down by then with my arms around Plug-Ugly. He was so sturdy and soft and warm, and he had so obviously taken to me that I didn’t care how ugly he was. “Do you know the way out of here?” I asked him.

      And he did. He turned and trotted between two of the pillars, where there was a gap in the bushes and a faint, narrow path beyond that. I think he must have made that path himself, going hunting over the years.

      “This way!” I called to the others. “The Lone Cat knows.” I don’t know why I called him that, except that it seemed right for his official name. Plug-Ugly was his private name, between him and me.

      They all followed us rather dubiously, Ivar saying we could hardly be lost on such a small island and sounding as if he thought we were. The path took us out to a rocky shoulder on the other side of the temple-place and then down and around, until we could see the ship below us. It looked far more normal now. They had taken Aunt Beck’s clotheslines down, as well as the sails, and launched the rowing boat. A team of oarsmen was in the rowing boat, towing the ship backwards out of the rocks.

      Ivar at once forgot all about his ankle and went racing down the hill, shouting to the sailors to wait. The cook and our sailor pelted after him, bellowing that we were ready to come aboard now. Aunt Beck came stepping neatly down among the rocks, looking ominous. Ogo sort of hovered in front of her. I could see Seamus Hamish glowering up at us from the stern of the ship.

      When Plug-Ugly and I arrived, Aunt Beck was saying, “You’ll not have thrown those good garments in the sea, I trust.”

      Seamus Hamish dourly pointed to where the clotheslines and the clothes lay in a jumbled heap by the forward mast. “Make haste aboard,” he said. “We’ll not be waiting for you.”

      Everyone scrambled up into the ship, so quickly that I can’t remember how Aunt Beck arrived there. The oarsmen went on rowing all the while, so that when it came to my turn to get aboard, there was quite a wide, seething gap between rocks and ship. Plug-Ugly roved up and down in front of it, uttering long, dismal mewings.

      “He wants to come with us,” I called to Aunt Beck. “Could he?”

      “No way am I having an ill-fated creature like that on my ship,” Seamus Hamish shouted, storming across the deck. “Get gone, creature! Shoo!” And he waved menacingly at Plug-Ugly, who was looking miserable.

      Aunt Beck shrugged. “I’m sorry, my good beast,” she said. “The Captain has spoken. Catch hold of my hand, Aileen, and I’ll pull you over.” She held out her hand and I just managed to catch hold of it and just managed a long, long stride to get one foot aboard. Aunt Beck pulled me the rest of the way. I turned around and watched Plug-Ugly sitting there, growing smaller as the sailors rowed us triumphantly out to sea.

      I wept. “Oh, sorry, sorry!” I called out to Plug-Ugly. He looked a Lone Cat indeed sitting there in the distance.

      “Pull yourself together,” Aunt Beck said to me. “He’s lived in that temple for years, perfectly happily. He’ll soon forget you. Come and help me untangle this mess the sailors have made of our clothing.”

      Seamus Hamish would not allow us to do this on deck. He said the sailors needed to get the rowing boat in and hoist the sails, and he made us take the whole bundle downstairs into the breakfast cubbyhole. He sent Ivar and Ogo down there with us to get them out of the way too. They sat and watched while we disentangled a fine, warm-looking green dress.

      “That looks to be about your size,” Ivar remarked to me. “I wonder where Mother got it?”

      “Can I wear it now?” I asked Aunt Beck.

      She looked from the dress to me. My best dress was torn and stained with tar from the deckboards and seawater, and in addition Plug-Ugly had smeared it all over with his long pinkish hairs. “Hm,” she said. She turned the green dress this way and that, sniffed it and finally passed it to me. “Go and put it on in our cabin,” she told me. “Tidy