Howl’s Moving Castle

his bedroom door and crashed his way through it. Sophie could hear him falling about, saying that his bed was dodging.

“He is quite impossible!” Sophie said, and she decided to leave at once.

Unfortunately, the noise Howl made woke Michael up, and Percival, who was sleeping on the floor in Michael’s room. Michael came downstairs, saying that they were so thoroughly awake that they might as well go out and gather the flowers for the Midsummer garlands while the day was still cool. Sophie was not sorry to go out into the place of flowers for one last time. There was a warm, milky haze out there, filled with the scent and half- hidden colors. Sophie thumped along, testing the squashy ground with her stick and listening to the whirrings and twitters of the thousands of birds, feeling truly regretful. She stroked a moist satin lily and fingered one of the ragged purple flowers with long, powdery stamens. She looked back at the tall black castle breathing the mist behind them. She sighed.

“He made it much better,” Percival remarked as he put an armful of hibiscus into Michael’s floating bath.

“Who did?” said Michael.

“Howl,” said Percival. “There were only bushes at first, and they were quite small and dry.”

“You remember being here before?” Michael asked excitedly. He had by no means given up his idea that Percival might be Prince Justin.

“I think I was here with the Witch,” Percival said doubtfully.

They fetched two bathloads of flowers. Sophie noticed that when they came in the second time, Michael spun the knob over the door several times. That must have something to do with keeping the Witch out. Then of course there were the Midsummer garlands to make. That took a longtime. Sophie had meant to leave Michael and Percival to do that, but Michael was too busy asking Percival cunning questions and Percival was very slow at the work. Sophie knew what made Michael excited. There was a sort of air about Percival, as if he expected something to happen soon. It made Sophie wonder just how much in the power of the Witch he still was. She had to make most of the garlands. Any thoughts she might have had about staying and helping Howl against the Witch vanished. Howl, who could have made all the garlands just by waving his hand, was now snoring so loudly she could hear him right through the shop.

They were so long making the garlands that it was time to open the shop before they had finished. Michael fetched them bread and honey, and they ate while they dealt with the tremendous first rush of customers. Although Midsummer Day, in the way of holidays, had turned out to be a gray and chilly day in Market Chipping, half the town came, dressed in fine holiday clothes, to buy flowers and garlands for the festival. There was the usual jostling crowd out in the street. So many people came into the shop that it was getting on midday before Sophie finally stole away up the stairs and through the broom cupboard. They had taken so much money, Sophie thought as she stole about, packing up some food and her old clothes in a bundle, that Michael’s hoard under the hearthstone would be ten times the size.

“Have you come to talk to me?” asked Calcifer.

“In a moment,” Sophie said, crossing room with her bundle behind her back. She did not want Calcifer raising an outcry about that contract.

She stretched out her hand to unhook her stick from the chair, and somebody knocked at the door. Sophie stuck, with her hand stretched out, looked inquiringly at Calcifer.

“It’s the mansion door,” said Calcifer. “Flesh and blood and harmless.”

The knocking came again. This always happens when I try to leave! Sophie thought. She turned the knob orange-down and opened the door.

There was a carriage in the drive beyond the statues, pulled by a goodish pair of horses. Sophie could see it round the edges of the very large footman who had been doing the knocking.

“Mrs. Sacheverell Smith to call upon the new occupants,” said the footman.

How very awkward! Sophie thought. It was the result of Howl’s new paint and curtains. “We’re not at h-” she began. But Mrs. Sacheverell Smith swept the footman aside and came in.

“Wait with the carriage, Theobald,” she said to the footman a she sailed past Sophie, folding her parasol.

It was Fanny-Fanny looking wonderfully prosperous in cream silk. She was wearing the cream silk hat trimmed with roses, which Sophie remembered only too well. She remembered what she had said to that hat as she trimmed it: “You are going to have to marry money.” And it was quite clear from the look of her that Fanny had.

“Oh, dear!” said Fanny, looking round. “There must be some mistake. This is the servants quarters!”

“Well-er-we’re not quite moved in yet, Madam,” Sophie said, and wondered how Fanny would feel if she knew that the old hat shop was only just beyond the broom cupboard.

Fanny turned round and gaped at Sophie. “Sophie!” she exclaimed. “Oh, good gracious, child, what’s happened to you? You look about ninety! Have you been very ill?” And, to Sophie’s surprise, fanny threw aside her hat and her parasol and all of her grand manner and flung her arms round Sophie and wept. “Oh, I didn’t now what had happened to you!” she sobbed. “I went to Martha and I sent to Lettie, and neither of them knew. They changed places, silly girls, did you know? But nobody knew a thing about you! I’ve reward out still. And here you are, working as a servant, when you could be living in luxury up the hill with me and Mr. Smith!”

Sophie found she was crying as well. She hurriedly dropped her bundle and led Fanny to the chair. She pulled the stool up and sat beside Fanny, holding her hand. By this time they were both laughing as well as crying. They were most powerfully glad to see one another again.

“It’s a long story,” Sophie said after Fanny had asked her six times what happened to her. “When I looked in the mirror and saw myself like this, it was such a shock that I sort of wandered away-”

“Overwork,” Fanny said wretchedly. “How I’ve blamed myself!”

“Not really,” said Sophie. “And you mustn’t worry, because Wizard Howl took me in-”

“Wizard Howl!” exclaimed Fanny. “That wicked, wicked man! Has he done this to you? Where is he? Let me at him!”

She seized her parasol and became so very warlike that Sophie had to hold her down. Sophie did not care to think how Howl might react if Fanny woke him by stabbing him with her parasol. “No, no!” she said. “Howl has been very kind to me.” And this was true, Sophie realized. Howl showed his kindness rather strangely, but, considering all Sophie had done to annoy him, he had been very good to her indeed.

“But they say he eats women alive!” Fanny said, still struggling to get up.

Sophie held down her waving parasol. “He doesn’t really,” she said. “Do listen. He’s not wicked at all!” There was a bit of a fizz from the grate at this, where Calcifer was watching with some interest. “He isn’t!” Sophie said, to Calcifer as much as to Fanny. “In all the time I’ve been here, I’ve not seen him work a single evil spell!” Which again was true, she knew.

“Then I have to believe you,” Fanny said, relaxing, “though I’m sure it must be your doing if he’s reformed. You always did have a way with you, Sophie. You could stop Martha’s tantrums when I couldn’t do a thing with her. And I always said it was thanks to you that Lettie only got her way half of the time instead of all the time! But you should have told me where you were, love!”

Sophie knew she should have. She had taken Martha’s view of Fanny, whole and entire, when she should have known Fanny better. She was ashamed.

Fanny could not wait to tell Sophie about Mr. Sacheverell Smith. She launched into a long and excited account of how she had met Mr. Smith the very week Sophie had left, and married him before the week was out. Sophie watched her as she talked. Being old gave her an entirely new view of Fanny. She was a lady who was still young and pretty, and she had found the hat shop as boring as Sophie did. But she had stuck with it and done her best, both with the shop and the three girls-until Mr. Hatter died. Then she had suddenly been afraid she was just like Sophie: old, with no reason, and nothing to show for it.

“And then, with you not being there to pass it on to, there seemed no reason not to sell the sop,” Fanny was saying, when there was a clatter of feet in the broom cupboard.

Michael came through, saying, “We’ve shut the shop. And look who’s here!” He was holding Martha’s hand.

Martha was thinner and fairer and almost looked like herself again. She let go of Michael and rushed at