Carbonel by Barbara Sleigh
Written and set in the nineteen-fifties, I’m not surprised it remains in print seventy years later. Barbara Sleigh writes deftly, weaving her plot as cunningly as a witch’s garland, and as discreetly. She manages to make magic both magic and ordinary. It fits convincingly into Rosemary’s world of quiet getting by in a flat with shared bathroom and a single gas ring while her mother supplements her widow’s pension by sewing for a wealthy client (but this is the fifties and even the wealthy extend the life of bedlinen with sides to middles).
Into Rosemary’s life comes Carbonel, imprisoned in kittenhood by Mrs Cantrip’s spell and very determined to be free. By turns gracious and condescending, Carbonel is a wonderful character, richly and succinctly realised. There he is before us (when he chooses to be) holding the stage, while behind the scenes Rosemary makes friends, her mother’s fortunes make a joyful change and a summer holiday that stretched out, more desert the beach, proves to be, well, magic.
Barbara Sleigh worked for the BBC and married David Davis, whose chocolate rich voice I remember with great fondness from Children’s Hour. In those days the BBC didn’t allow married couples to work for them, so Barbara left and became a writer. Their loss, our gain.
