A Witch in a Fix Read online

  I’d forgotten we even had a crystal ball. At Crag Road, we still had a lot of equipment from the days when my aunts believed that they were the witches, and not me. We had cauldrons and broomsticks and pointy hats and jars of strange ingredients heaped in a jumble all over the house.

  I don’t use that sort of stuff – I don’t even use a wand very often. I’m a modern witch – and all those old traditions and trappings are soooo last century! But, I must admit, they can come in handy sometimes – like now.

  I scrambled onto the kitchen counter, reached to the top of a cupboard, and lifted down a dark red box with silver stars all over it. I hopped down and placed the box on the kitchen table. We all stood around and stared at it.

  ‘Open it, then,’ said Aunty Wormella, nudging me.

  ‘OK, OK,’ I said. I took the lid off the box and sifted through piles of scrunched - up newspaper. I felt something hard and cold, and lifted it out.

  The crystal ball glittered as I placed it onto the kitchen table. I stared at it and shivered.

  5

  THE CRYSTAL BALL

  The ball was about the size of a human head and made from pure sparkling crystal from Ancient Greece. It rested on a small circular stand made out of white sheep bones – at least, I hoped they were sheep bones. To one side there were several white knobs shaped like tiny human skulls.

  ‘Get on with it, then!’ said Aunty Grizz.

  I closed my eyes and tried to remember what Mrs Winkle had taught me about operating a crystal ball. I spread my hands over it, took a deep breath and chanted:

  ‘Crystal, crystal, please show me

  Where the Cuffy-Rat could be!’

  I opened my eyes. The crystal had clouded over. Inside the ball, all the colours of the rainbow swirled together, and tiny red sparks spat out from its middle. One of them hit Aunty Wormella on the hand.

  ‘Ow!’ she squeaked.

  ‘Shhh!’ said Aunty Grizz.

  ‘Thanks for the sympathy,’ replied Aunty Wormella.

  As I gazed into the ball, the colours cleared and a picture started to form. I could see a dark shape – a twitching shape with a long tail and whiskers …

  ‘There she is!’ I shouted. Charlie’s ears pricked up. He trotted to the kitchen table and stood against it on his hind legs. When he saw the tasty big rat, he dribbled all over the floor.

  ‘Go away, Charlie,’ I said. ‘She’s not dinner, so you can forget about that!’

  I peered into the ball. Mrs Cuffy was crouched in a small room. She was squeaking quietly to herself and ripping a pile of blue cloth to shreds with her sharp little teeth.

  I twiddled the knobs. The picture zoomed out, and I saw that the room looked familiar. Very, VERY familiar …

  I zoomed out a little more. No wonder! It was my room! At this very moment, Mrs Cuffy was in my bedroom in our house, vandalising my wardrobe!

  ‘I don’t believe it!’ I said.

  ‘Where is she? What’s she doing?’ said Aunty Wormella, peering over my shoulder.

  ‘She’s upstairs!’ I said.

  The two aunts leapt out of their seats and raced around the kitchen in a panic, bumping into each other and knocking things over.

  ‘Go and catch her, Grizz!’ shouted Aunty Wormella.

  ‘You catch her, Wormella!’ shouted Aunty Grizz.

  ‘Where are the traps!’ they both shouted at once, flinging open all the cupboard doors.

  ‘Shh,’ I said. ‘Look at that! She’s destroying my new jeans!’

  ‘Dear me, Anna,’ said Aunty Wormella, pausing. ‘If Mrs Cuffy disliked you when she was human, she seems to dislike you even more now she’s a rat!’

  The aunts huddled behind me and we all stared at Mrs Cuffy’s furtive movements. She suddenly looked up from her destructive work, stared straight at me, and hissed.

  I drew back from the crystal ball. The image went wavy.

  ‘You don’t think she can see me, do you?’ I whispered.

  Aunty Grizz poked me sharply between the shoulder blades.

  ‘Zoom in again,’ she said. ‘You’re losing the picture.’

  I sat forward and twiddled the knobs to zoom in. This time, behind Mrs Cuffy, I could see another dark shape moving slowly through the shadows of my room. What was that?

  I twiddled the knobs again, but all I could see was a pair of golden eyes, unblinking, moving closer and closer to Mrs Cuffy …

  Aunty Wormella glanced around the kitchen.

  ‘Oh dear. I don’t want to worry you, Anna,’ she said. ‘But where’s Charlie?’

  I looked under the table. Charlie was nowhere to be seen. I swallowed hard and peered again at the dark shape with the golden eyes creeping through the darkness.

  It was him, all right. He was upstairs trying to catch himself a late supper!

  Mrs Cuffy suddenly stopped what she was doing. She twitched her ears and looked over her furry shoulder …

  At that moment, the crystal ball went cloudy and the pictures disappeared with a loud ‘pop’.

  6

  MISSING TEACHER

  The next morning, I sneaked into assembly late.

  ‘Anna!’ whispered Mary, beckoning me over. ‘I’ve saved you a place.’

  I slumped into the seat beside her.

  There was a lot of activity in the school and there were police officers wandering about. But I was so exhausted I could hardly take it in.

  I’d been running around the house and garden half the night, calling Charlie to come to me and trying to catch Mrs Cuffy before he caught her.

  I failed at both. When Charlie finally appeared, it was after midnight, and he was waving his tail and licking his chops in a very suspicious way. Mrs Cuffy had disappeared again, leaving what had once been my new jeans as a pile of rags.

  I hardly slept a wink after that, and by now I was panicking about whether Mrs Cuffy was alive or dead. This was all getting out of hand.

  As usual on Tuesday mornings, it was assembly. Mrs Winkle’s large, blue-suited figure stood on the stage at the front of the hall. All the staff sat in rows behind her. She raised her hands and looked very serious.

  ‘Good morning, boys and girls,’ she said. ‘You may have noticed that the police are in school today.’

  A buzz of chatter rippled around the hall.

  ‘This is because our caretaker, Mr Cuffy, has reported that Mrs Cuffy did not return home last night!’ said Mrs Winkle.

  A gasp went around the school. Mary nudged me and I sank further into my chair.

  ‘I expect you all to answer any questions the police may have, and give any help that you can,’ said Mrs Winkle. ‘Mr Cuffy, would you say a few words, please?’

  Mr Cuffy got to his feet and came to the front. He was a wiry little man with a flat nose and bright red cheeks. He looked like he was ready for a fight – but then he always looked like that.

  ‘Mrs C was due home at 4.23pm,’ he said. ‘When she still hadn’t appeared by 4.33pm and, I might add, there was no sign of my dinner, I took the obvious course of action. I rang the police.’

  As he was speaking, I was distracted by a rustling sound at the side of the stage. My tired gaze wandered over to the red curtains. They seemed to be moving by themselves …

  To my horror and relief, the next thing I saw was a whiskery, pointed nose poking out from underneath. It was Mrs Cuffy!

  An excited ripple went around the whole school as, row by row, the children spotted her creeping out from under the curtain. It wasn’t long before everyone erupted in screaming and pointing and laughter.

  ‘Silence!’ shouted Mrs Winkle, holding her arms aloft – but it was no good.

  Mrs Cuffy shot right across the stage, and all the teachers hopped up on their chairs. Even though she’d seen the rat before, Mary squealed louder than anyone.

  But when Mrs Cuffy got to Mr Cuffy, she stopped and stared up at him. She stood on her hind legs, put her hands on her hips, and tapped her foot impatiently. Mr Cuffy, not kn
owing that the rat in front of him was, in fact, his wife, became extremely angry.

  ‘What are you doing in my school, you dirty creature?’ he shouted, purple with fury.

  He whipped a scrubbing brush out of his overalls and hurled it at Mrs Cuffy. The scrubbing brush bopped her squarely on her head. She squealed in pain, and scampered down the stage steps towards the door.

  As she passed where I was sitting, she paused. She lifted her ratty little paws to the side of her head, waggled them about – and blew a big, fat raspberry right at me!

  Then she turned and raced out of the door into the playground. Mary grabbed my arm.

  ‘That was the same rat we saw!’ she said. ‘You don’t see whiskers like that every day.’ She looked at me out of the corner of her eye. ‘What’s it got against you?’

  I didn’t answer. This was embarrassing. It looked like Mrs Cuffy was deliberately trying to get me in trouble – and succeeding.

  I caught Mrs Winkle’s eye. She was staring straight down at me from the stage and frowning.

  7

  THE TRUTH SPELL

  I was kicking a football against a fence in the playground when the dreaded message came.

  ‘Anna!’ said Mary, popping her head out of a nearby window. ‘You’re to go to Mrs Winkle’s office immediately!’

  ‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘Just what I needed.’

  ‘What have you done?’ said Mary. ‘Is it something to do with that old rat?’

  ‘Why would that have anything to do with me?’ I said, quickly. ‘It’s probably because I was late today. Or something.’

  ‘OK,’ said Mary, drawing her head back in. ‘Good luck.’

  I booted the ball over the fence. I went inside and trailed down the hallway until I got to a closed door. On it was a sign in large, black letters:

  Mrs Winkle

  Head Teacher

  I took a deep breath, knocked and entered.

  ‘Well, well, well,’ said Mrs Winkle, glancing up from her desk and fixing me to the spot with her blue-eyed gaze. ‘If it isn’t my special pupil, Anna Kelly.’

  ‘Good morning, Mrs Winkle,’ I said in a wobbly voice.

  At school, no one but me knew that Mrs Winkle was not only a head teacher, but also a very senior witch. But even though no one knew that she had magic powers, everyone in school respected her. Her methods were what she called ‘firm but fair’, which basically meant you didn’t mess her around.

  But I was about to mess her around BIG-TIME. I was about to look her in the eye and tell lies – and that made me want to jump on the first plane to Australia.

  I shifted from one foot to another and prayed I wouldn’t crack. She started off friendly enough.

  ‘How are your magic studies going, Anna?’ she said. ‘Been to any interesting workshops lately?’

  ‘No, Miss,’ I said, trying to avoid her gaze. ‘I’ve been studying at home mainly.’

  ‘And what about your practical magic?’ she said, peering over her glasses. ‘Done any good experiments?’

  My heart thumped loudly inside my chest.

  ‘No, Miss,’ I said, twisting the bottom of my jumper in my sweaty hands.

  ‘Are you sure, Anna?’ she said. ‘No shape-shifting, for example? I know how fond you are of that particular trick.’

  There was a pause.

  ‘No, Miss,’ I lied in a tiny voice.

  Mrs Winkle rose out of her chair, and walked around to face me. She leant against a large silver box on her desk. I recognised that box because she used it sometimes when we were doing sorcery lessons together. It was her magic box – but what was it doing here? I gulped.

  ‘It is very odd, don’t you think?’ she said. ‘That you were the last person to see Mrs Cuffy last night?’

  ‘That’s not my fault!’ I said.

  ‘And then suddenly a very large rat shows up in school,’ said Mrs Winkle, as if I hadn’t spoken. ‘Correct me if I’m wrong, but it seemed to take a dislike to you, Anna.’

  ‘I don’t know why that was, Miss,’ I said. By now, my hands were dripping sweat onto the floor and I badly wanted to go to the loo.

  Mrs Winkle watched me fidget and her eyes narrowed.

  ‘You’re hiding something from me, Anna,’ she said. ‘And that’s very disappointing!’

  I hung my head and felt my cheeks going red with shame. Upsetting Mrs Winkle was the last thing I wanted to do – but I couldn’t tell her the truth, I just couldn’t!

  Mrs Winkle turned to the magic box and opened it.

  ‘If you think, my dear young witch,’ she said, ‘that I’m not going to get to the bottom of this business, you can think again!’

  She whipped around to face me – and I nearly jumped out of my skin. For in her hand she held a long silver wand – and she was pointing it right at me!

  ‘Time for a little truth spell, I think,’ she said.

  My heart missed a beat.

  ‘Mrs Winkle, please!’ I whined. ‘I am telling the truth!’

  ‘No, Anna,’ said Mrs Winkle. ‘I’m afraid you’re not!’

  She raised her arms in the air and chanted:

  ‘Meet my eyes and count to three

  And in a heartbeat you will see

  That, though you panic, prance or pout,

  When I ask, the truth comes out!’

  She fixed her blue eyes on me. I found I could not look away, try as I might! Immediately I felt my insides go swimmy, and my nose itch. Mrs Winkle’s eyes bored into my brain, making it feel like jelly.

  ‘One …’ I said, dribbling slightly.

  I didn’t want to count to three – I just couldn’t stop myself! This was strong magic from a true expert.

  ‘Two…’ I said.

  I knew that after I said three, the next words out of me would be the whole story about Mrs Cuffy.

  ‘Three!’ I said. ‘Last night, I––’

  TAT-TAT-TATTAT!

  The sound of loud knocking on the office door broke my trance. Mrs Winkle groaned. She took her eyes off mine and lowered her wand.

  ‘Who is it?’ she called.

  ‘Police, madam,’ a deep voice answered. ‘Can we have a word?’

  Mrs Winkle dropped her wand back into the magic box and bustled to the door. She opened it and I heard the sound of murmuring.

  A truth spell needs eyeball-to-eyeball contact, so once Mrs Winkle wasn’t staring at me, the magic started to drift off. I shook my head to clear my brain a little. That was close! But she’d be back in a minute …

  I eyed the open magic box in front of me and the beautiful silver key on the table beside it. Mrs Winkle and the police officer were talking and no one was looking at me. I sneaked over to the box.

  There just had to be something there that could help me – but what? I traced the pretty silver patterns with my fingers.

  ‘Yes, officer, I’ll come now,’ said Mrs Winkle, closing the door. ‘Thank you.’

  Rats! She was coming back. There was no time. I sprang away from the box.

  ‘If you think you’re off the hook, Anna, you can think again!’ she said, frowning. ‘But that’s all for now.’

  ‘Right, Miss,’ I said, sighing with relief. ‘Any time, Miss!’

  She picked up the silver key and locked the magic box. She dropped the key in the top drawer of her desk.

  ‘Out you go,’ she said. ‘I’m needed in the playground.’

  ‘Yes, Miss,’ I said. A new naughty plan started to form in my brain.

  Mrs Winkle put on her raincoat, shooed me out of her office, and strode down the corridor without a backward glance.

  I dawdled back to the playground thinking of the magic box – and about how I knew where the silver key was kept.

  And, I’m ashamed to say, I smiled.

  8

  THE MAGIC BOX

  Later that night, I put on my trainers and stuffed an old witch’s hat and a wand into a bag. My plan was to break into the school and find out if anything in Mr
s Winkle’s magic box could help me solve the problem of Mrs Cuffy.

  There just had to be all sorts of cool stuff in that box! Maybe there was a potion to make you invisible! Or a spell to make you fly! Everyone said I was too young to do all that stuff yet – but no one could stop me if I was on my own, could they?

  Of course, Charlie wanted to come too. He wound himself around my legs, pleading with his round golden eyes.

  ‘No chance, Charlie,’ I said, wagging my finger at him. ‘This is not a job for a cat! You’d only try and gobble her up, you know you would!’

  Charlie wasn’t a bit happy. He created a huge fuss, yowling and climbing up my legs.

  ‘Ow!’ I said. ‘Shh! You’ll wake the aunties!’

  Eventually I shook him off, and he flounced into a corner in a sulk. I opened the window of my bedroom and climbed out into the night.

  I made my way to St Munchin’s through the deserted streets. It was deathly quiet. I wished I was tucked up in my own warm bed like everyone else instead of creeping through the night like a burglar. How did I get myself into these situations?

  St Munchin’s looked massive, black and scary at night. The black iron gates were locked, so I squeezed through a gap in the fence into the playground. I knew that one of the windows of the corridor had a broken catch, so I crept along, testing each window.

  Every time a branch creaked or a bird flapped, it felt like my heart leapt into my mouth. A nervous sweat broke out on my forehead and dribbled into my eyes. Finally I found the right window and climbed through it into the school.

  The school corridor was even spookier than the playground. There were no lights on, but a full moon shone through the windows. The jagged shadows of the trees swayed black against the wall. They twisted as if dancing to wild music that no human could hear …