A Witch Come True

by James Nicol

  ‘Is your arm still hurting?’ Arianwyn asked.

  It was Sergeant Gribble’s turn to blush now. ‘No, just tired is all – and will you look at the state of this!’ He gestured at the platform. ‘No organization at all. This is utter chaos!’ he grumbled.

  ‘How was the journey?’ Aunt Grace asked, clearly trying to change the subject.

  ‘Oh, well, you know . . .’ Grandma smiled. ‘Long!’

  ‘Never-ending!’ Sergeant Gribble snapped.

  Aunt Grace jumped a bit. There was a difficult silence, cut short as Arianwyn’s father mumbled an apology to Aunt Grace.

  ‘Shall we go and see where Colin has got to?’ Salle suggested, tugging on Arianwyn’s coat sleeve.

  ‘Good idea, and we can go and find somewhere to sit for a moment,’ Aunt Grace said calmly.

  As Arianwyn and Salle pushed their way through the crowd once more, Arianwyn said, ‘Sorry my dad is such a grump. Was he like this all the way?’

  ‘It’s just the jolting of the train, and he’s tired, I think. We tried to persuade him to do the journey over a few days, but he refused. I think Colin has borne the brunt of it, though.’

  ‘Poor Colin!’ Arianwyn moaned. ‘Can you see him anywhere?’

  Salle turned and, standing on tiptoe, searched the wall of coats and scarves and umbrellas. Another cloud of engine smoke swirled across the platform, enveloping everyone for a few seconds. It made Arianwyn cough and blink, her eyes suddenly watery. The wall of people blurred for a second and then Arianwyn saw a pair of too-dark eyes fixed on her and a curtain of pale, almost white hair.

  It couldn’t be . . . ?

  ‘Gimma?’ Arianwyn breathed. She froze and Salle stumbled into her.

  ‘Oh,Wyn – what’s the matter now?’

  Another rolling cloud of steam and smoke and rain billowed over the platform, swallowing up the pale figure along with the rest of the crowd.

  ‘Wyn, are you OK? You’ve gone as white as a sheet!’ Salle said, taking Arianwyn’s gloved hand.

  ‘I thought I just saw . . .’ She paused; it already seemed absurd.

  ‘What? Who?’ Salle asked.

  ‘. . . Gimma . . .’ Saying the name aloud made it seem even more ridiculous.

  The smoke swirled away and Salle spun quickly to look in the direction Arianwyn had indicated. ‘But Gimma wouldn’t be coming back to Lull surely, would she? She hates it!’ Salle said.

  Arianwyn shook her head. It did seem a strange idea – particularly after their conversation in Highbridge. And Mayor Belcher would have certainly mentioned if Gimma – his very favourite niece – was coming to visit, she was quite sure.

  ‘She’ll be at swanky parties with her parents, no doubt, and eating at the finest restaurants and getting the biggest pile of Yule gifts anyone has ever seen,’ Salle crowed.

  Arianwyn nodded slowly. She must have been mistaken. It must have been someone who looked like Gimma, that was all. The station was so busy and, what with the smoke and rain . . . She’d confused what she saw, that was all; it was a trick of the light, smoke in her eyes.

  But even so she still felt confused and a little upset by it, like icy fingers had brushed the backs of her arms. ‘I’m here!’ a voice suddenly called from behind them, making them both jump.

  Turning, the girls were confronted with a huge pile of cases, two trunks and several bags and what was unmistakably Sergeant Gribble’s army kitbag. Colin’s face peeked out from behind it all. ‘I managed to find a trolley,’ he said, beaming. ‘I just hope we’ve got everything.’

  They manoeuvred the luggage carefully back to where Grandmother, Sergeant Gribble and Aunt Grace were seated on the hard wooden benches along the station wall. ‘Well, that certainly took long enough!’ Sergeant Gribble barked as they came forward with the trolley.

  ‘Sorry,’ Colin mumbled, looking down at the floor, the smile abruptly falling from his face.

  ‘Don’t be such a grump now, Oliver,’ Grandmother said sharply. ‘It’s a frightfully busy day and I think Colin has done a fine job finding all our things. Thank you, Colin,’ she added brightly.

  Sergeant Gribble mumbled something which may have been an apology or a thanks, Arianwyn couldn’t tell. She shot Colin an apologetic look and he smiled quickly back in reply.

  Sergeant Gribble marched off back through the ticket office and everyone else followed, Salle and Arianwyn helping to push and steer the trolley through the throng of people until they were back outside and beside Beryl who gleamed brightly on the dark winter’s day. ‘So lovely to see you again, Madam Stronelli.’ Mr Thorn tipped his cap as Grandmother clambered on to the bus with a cheery ‘Hello!’ then he saluted Sergeant Gribble who said ‘Good afternoon’ and hurried up the steps of the bus and out of the rain.

  Aunt Grace climbed in next as Arianwyn and Salle helped Colin with loading the luggage into the back of the bus.

  ‘Right-o, let’s get home, shall we?’ Mr Thorn called.

  ‘How did you get on with the trip to the market, Mr Thorn?’ Aunt Grace asked.

  ‘Market was cancelled because of the rain, so I’ve not been able to get as much as we hoped, I’m afraid. But I don’t think we’ll starve!’

  As Beryl negotiated the busy streets of Flaxsham, Arianwyn couldn’t help but think about what had happened on the platform. She kept seeing those dark eyes watching her as the steam rolled past.

  But it couldn’t have been Gimma, could it? Well, they’d soon know once they got back to Lull, that much was sure.

  Chapter 15

  The FROZEN HOUSE

  rianwyn’s father’s mood did seem to improve a little on the bus ride back to Lull. He chatted warmly with Mr Thorn, who it turned out had also been a soldier in his youth.

  ‘Fought alongside the Veersland Seventh Platoon in the Battle of Igretzia,’ Mr Thorn called over the hum and occasional roar of Beryl’s engine.

  Arianwyn and Aunt Grace shared out the picnic lunch that Aunt Grace had packed, though the thermos of soup proved tricky to manage as Beryl negotiated some of the bumpier parts of the road. ‘How delicious!’ Grandmother declared happily. Arianwyn sat with Colin and Salle, the three of them happily eating sandwiches and chatting quietly. ‘Did you show Miss Newam the . . . you-know-what?’ Arianwyn asked and looked quickly over at her father and grandmother, but they were both occupied chatting with Mr Thorn and Aunt Grace.

  Colin reached inside his jacket and handed Arianwyn back the photograph of her father and his platoon with the strange Urisian sorcerer. ‘She was really interested in the photograph and she said she was going to do more research and let us know when she finds anything out,’ he said quietly as the bus rattled along. ‘She took a copy.’

  ‘Oh, let’s talk about something else!’ Salle said, clapping her hands together. ‘I’m so excited that you’re both going to be in Lull for Yule. We are going to have so much fun!’

  Arianwyn glanced out at the world rushing past the windows of the bus and smiled. Squeezed into the seat beside her friends with her dad and grandmother just a few seats away, everything felt right for the first time in a long while.

  Beryl rattled through the West Gate and headed up towards the town square. ‘Your rooms are all ready,’ Aunt Grace said warmly, ‘so you can all rest up for a bit if you’d like.’ She placed a hand on Sergeant Gribble’s shoulder but he shrugged her off.

  ‘I’m quite all right, thank you. What I need is a brisk walk – I’ve been cooped up for too long, that’s all.’ He wasn’t quite as gruff as he had been earlier and Arianwyn was thankful. She was sure Aunt Grace, for all her niceness and warmth, would not have stood for it for long.

  Beryl stopped outside the Blue Ox with a screech of brakes and everyone rocked slightly in their seats. ‘Lull town square. Final destination!’ Mr Thorn called.

  In a few minutes everyone had climbed off the bus and stood outside the Blue Ox, as Mr Thorn unloaded the luggage, as well as provisions he had collected from Flaxsham. Uncle Mat hu
rried out and caught Salle up in the tightest of hugs. It made Arianwyn feel as though she was missing something. Why had her father not done the same to her at the station? She was sure he was as happy to see her as Uncle Mat was to see Salle, she thought. He just had a different way of expressing himself, that was all. Wasn’t it?

  She looked across at her father who was taking in the town square.

  ‘Well, see you later for dinner, Arianwyn?’ Aunt Grace said brightly as she and Uncle Mat walked into the Blue Ox, their arms wrapped tightly around Salle.

  Arianwyn turned to look at her father, Grandmother and Colin who were still sorting through the pile of luggage with Mr Thorn’s help.

  ‘I’m going to have a rest, I think,’ Grandmother added, hefting her travel bags and smiling. ‘See you for dinner.’

  ‘I’m going to drop my bags in and take a walk,’ Sergeant Gribble said to Arianwyn.

  ‘A walk does sound like a nice idea . . .’ Colin said uncertainly, but as Sergeant Gribble shot him a look he mumbled, ‘But maybe I’ll go in and read my book and have a cup of tea. See you later, Arianwyn.’ And he hurried off towards the inn after Grandmother, carrying as many bags and cases as was humanly possible.

  ‘Dad, please stop being so mean to poor Colin!’ Arianwyn said at last. She felt like a bottle of fizzy pop that had been shaken up too much.

  ‘Pardon?’ Sergeant Gribble said.

  But before Arianwyn could repeat herself, Salle came running from the Blue Ox, waving a note. ‘Wyn! There’s been an urgent call from Mr Curry on Maple Terrace.’ She flapped the piece of paper in Arianwyn’s face.

  ‘What is it?’ Arianwyn asked, taking the note. She peered down at the writing, even as the rain drenched the paper, making it close to illegible.

  ‘Something about the doors and windows,’ Salle said, trying to look at the piece of paper upside down.

  ‘Well, I’d best go and investigate,’Arianwyn said to her father. ‘See you later on. Enjoy your walk.’

  ‘Wait, should I . . . should I come with you?’ her father asked. ‘Is it safe to go on your own?’

  Did he think she wasn’t allowed to go on her own? That she couldn’t cope?

  ‘No need, I’m sure it’ll all be fine.’ Did he look worried? Arianwyn turned and was hurrying across the town square when she heard fast footsteps sloshing through puddles behind her. For a moment she hoped it was her father, but as she turned to glance over her shoulder she saw it was Salle, hurrying after her. ‘Wyn, wait. I’ll come with you.’ She smiled and linked her arm with Arianwyn’s, and the two girls raced across the town square.

  Arianwyn knocked on the door of Mr Curry’s house. ‘Hello?’ she called. ‘It’s Arianwyn, Mr Curry . . . are you there?’

  She waited for a few minutes but there was no answer. She glanced uncertainly at Salle. Was this someone’s idea of a joke? ‘Is this the right address?’ Arianwyn asked.

  Salle nodded and knocked again, louder than before. ‘HELLO!’

  Then they heard the sound of a window opening high above them. They both stepped back and looked up just as a shower of fine powdery ice fell from the opened window on to Arianwyn and Salle. Arianwyn frowned in confusion – where had all the ice come from? ‘Hello, Miss Gribble! Is that you?’ A man’s head poked out and peered down at them.

  ‘Hello, Mr Curry.’ Salle waved.

  ‘Could you let us in please?’ Arianwyn pointed at the door. ‘We got a call to say you were having problems with something?’

  ‘Well, that’s the bother, you see,’ Mr Curry said, adjusting his thick spectacles and blinking at the girls once more. ‘I can’t get out of the house . . . the doors and most of the windows are frozen shut.’

  Arianwyn glanced at Salle and then looked more closely at the door. What she had thought was faded wood wasn’t that at all, but a trace of fine, feathery ice all across the painted wood. It ran around the door frame and over the edge of the door too, which was strange as there was no ice anywhere else nearby. The rain was still falling steadily. Arianwyn pressed her hand against the wood and sure enough it felt frozen.

  ‘It’s not locked,’ Mr Curry added. ‘You could always try pushing from your side perhaps?’ He blinked down at them again.

  Together,Arianwyn and Salle shoved on the door. First with their hands, then bracing against the door with their backs and shoulders. But the door wouldn’t budge. It was well and truly frozen solid.

  ‘Can you try a spell?’ Salle suggested after another failed attempt at shoving the door open.

  Arianwyn nodded and started to sketch Årdra against the frozen wood. She could feel a seam of magic running somewhere nearby, in the air above perhaps. But there was other magic close by as well, most likely whatever had caused the house to freeze. She had to concentrate to pull the magic towards the glyph which she could see shimmering against the wood of the door. But it was like standing on tiptoes and grabbing something that was still a centimetre out of your reach and just as she finally felt the magic pour towards her, the glyph she had sketched faded from the door and her magic flowed away, like silk tumbling out of her hands.

  ‘Jinxing-jiggery!’ Arianwyn muttered.

  ‘Everything OK down there?’ Mr Curry called. ‘Only I’m getting really quite chilly now!’ His voice juddered with cold.

  ‘It’s all fine, Mr C!’ Salle called brightly. ‘Try again,’ she said to Arianwyn quietly.

  This time it worked and the second glyph flashed as the magic connected with it. Under Arianwyn’s touch the door began to warm, the feathery white ice fading from the wood, and after a few seconds there was a soft click and the door swung open. ‘We’re in!’ Salle called up to Mr Curry.

  They heard the sound of the window closing and Mr Curry sighing, ‘Thank heavens!’

  But as the door swung open they saw the full extent of the problem. The frozen front door was only the beginning.

  Beyond the door was the hallway, a staircase heading off and up into the house to the left. The walls were painted a warm yellow, there was a patchwork of tiles on the floor and several doors leading off into other rooms. Arianwyn caught a glimpse of the kitchen. But everything was frosted over, pale under a fine layer of ice. ‘My word,’ she breathed, taking a step inside. Salle followed her. But as they stepped through the door and on to the tiles they realized their mistake: the hallway was one big sheet of ice. They both immediately slipped straight to the floor even as they tried to grip hold of each other for support.

  They landed with an ‘Ooof!’ and ‘Ouch!’, and a tangle of legs and arms. Then they started laughing just as Mr Curry reached the bottom of the stairs.

  ‘Oh, dear me.’ He smiled.

  ‘Be careful, Mr Curry. The floor is . . . slippery,’ Salle said, and immediately burst into another fit of giggles even as she tried to get to her feet.

  ‘Do you know what caused this?’ Arianwyn asked, as Salle hauled her upright. They both steadied themselves against the cold wall.

  ‘Saw something in the kitchen yesterday, but didn’t think much of it,’ Mr Curry explained, pointing down the hall.

  ‘We’ll take a look, but I think you’d best find somewhere else to stay, Mr Curry, until we can get the house thawed out.’

  ‘Oh, right.’ Mr Curry’s brow creased and he tapped his hand against the banister rail.

  ‘It’ll be OK,’ Salle said brightly. ‘Have you got someone you can stay with? If not, I can speak to Aunt Grace—’

  ‘No, it’s all right,’ Mr Curry said, rubbing his hands together for warmth. ‘I can stay with my brother and his family for a bit, I’m sure.’

  ‘I might just take a look in the kitchen,’ Arianwyn said.

  ‘Shall I help you sort some things to take with you?’ Salle asked Mr Curry.

  As Mr Curry and Salle went upstairs to pack some clothes, Arianwyn walked very carefully down the hallway and into the kitchen. The floor in there was just like the ice rink in Amble Square Gardens where Grandmother had taken her
skating as a child, and Arianwyn slipped as she looked around the kitchen, trying to work out what had caused this strange, magical indoor frost.

  She looked into the sink where the once-dripping tap was now frozen over into a miniature icicle. She tried to open the pantry door but it was – of course – frozen shut.

  And then, as she was heading back to the hallway, Arianwyn saw something glistening in the gap between the dresser and the stone wall. She leant forwards and peered closer.

  The space was full of ice crystals. They tangled together, overlapping and criss-crossing rather like a very untidy and frozen web.

  ‘What is that?’ Arianwyn asked the empty frosty kitchen.

  But she couldn’t get close enough to see deep into the space.

  ‘Have you found something?’ Salle asked, slipping across the floor towards her.

  Arianwyn nodded. ‘There’s something odd down the side of the dresser here.’ She pointed to the icy crystal web.

  Salle peered closer and then leapt back as something darted hurriedly near their feet. Salle shrieked in surprise. Another one followed, shooting across the floor.

  ‘What are they?’ Salle asked, stumbling backwards in shock.

  Another whatever-it-was zipped straight towards Arianwyn. It was fast – but Arianwyn was quick as well and she reached out, grasping the creature in her hand.

  The cold stung her at once but she didn’t let go. The small creature wriggled in her grip.

  It was no bigger than an egg cup, its skin frosty blue with mottled ice-white patches here and there. It had huge eyes and a large beak-like nose. It made an angry hissing sound and then suddenly it was too cold to keep a grip of. The coldness burnt and stung her hand and fingers. Arianwyn cried out in pain and dropped the thing to the floor where it quickly scuttled off, vanishing under the kitchen sink.

  ‘Boil it!’ Arianwyn spat.

  ‘Whatever are they?’ Salle asked.

  Arianwyn had no idea; she turned and shrugged at Salle as Mr Curry shuffled forwards into the kitchen and said, ‘Looked like a nithering to me!’