by Eva Ibbotson
Daniel stood there and his forehead was almost as wrinkled as the little dog’s. For the pet shop had been sold a week ago to a queer-looking woman. Daniel had seen her moving about among the animals and talking to herself. She’d been quite alone, just the sort of woman who might snatch a baby to keep her company. He’d read about women like that taking babies from their prams while their mothers were inside a supermarket. The police usually caught them – they weren’t so much evil as crazy.
Daniel gave the puppy a last pat and went downstairs. Sumi was still asleep, one hand trailing over the side of the sofa. For a moment he wondered whether to wake her. Then he let himself very quietly out of the house and began to run.
Chapter Three
He ran across the bridge, turned into Park Avenue where his house was, then plunged into the maze of small streets that led between the river and the market place. Sumi’s parents’ shop was in one of these, and close by, on the corner, was the pet shop.
Daniel had been inside it often when the old man owned it, but now he stood in front of it, badly out of breath and very frightened. It was dusk, the street-lamps had just been lit and he could see the notice above the door.
UNDER NEW MANAGEMENT, it said. PROPRIETOR; MISS H. TENBURY-SMITH.
There was no one downstairs; the blinds were drawn, but upstairs, he could see one lighted window.
Daniel put his hand up to ring the bell and dropped it again. His knees shook, his heart was pounding. Suddenly it seemed to him that he was quite mad coming here. If the woman in the shop had taken Basil, she was certainly not going to hand him over to a schoolboy. She was much more likely to kidnap him too or even murder him so that he couldn’t tell the police.
He was just turning away, ready to run for it, when the door suddenly opened and a woman stood in the hallway. She was tall with frizzy hair and looked brisk and eager like a hockey mistress in an old-fashioned girls’ school. And she was smiling!
‘Come in, come in,’ said Miss Tenbury-Smith. ‘I’ve been expecting you.’
Daniel stared at her. ‘But how . . .’ he stammered. ‘I mean, I’ve come—’
‘I know why you’ve come, dear boy. You’ve come to thank me. How people can say that children nowadays are not polite, I cannot understand. I expect you’d like some tea?’
Quite stunned by all this, Daniel followed her through the dark shop, with its rustlings and squeakings, and up a narrow flight of stairs. Miss Tenbury-Smith’s flat was cosy. A gas fire hissed in the grate, there were pictures of middle-aged ladies in school blazers, and on the mantelpiece, a framed photograph with its face turned to the wall.
‘Unless you’d rather have fruit juice?’ she went on. And as Daniel continued to stare at her, ‘You’re admiring my dressing-gown. It’s pure batskin – a thousand bats went into its making. And in case you’re wondering – every single one of those bats died in its sleep. I would never, never wear the skin of an animal that had not passed away peacefully from old age. Never!’
But now Daniel felt he had to get to the point. ‘Actually, it’s about the Boothroyd baby that I’ve come,’ he said urgently.
‘Well, of course it is, dear boy. What else?’ said Miss Tenbury-Smith. ‘You’re quite certain that tea would suit you?’
‘Yes . . . tea would be fine. Only, please, Miss Tenbury-Smith, my friend is in such trouble. We’re babysitting and the Boothroyds are due back any minute and there’ll be such a row, so could you possibly give Basil back? Just this once?’
‘Give him back? Give him back?’ Her voice had risen to an outraged squeak.
‘Well, you swapped him . . . didn’t you? You kidnapped him?’ But Daniel’s voice trailed away, suddenly uncertain.
Miss Tenbury-Smith put down the teapot. Her slightly protruding eyes had turned stony. Her eyebrows rose. ‘I . . . kidnapped . . . Basil Boothroyd?’ she repeated, stunned. Her long nose twitched and she looked very sad. ‘I was so sure we were going to be friends, Daniel,’ she said, and he looked up, amazed that she should know his name. ‘And now this!’ She sighed. ‘Now listen carefully. When you have kidnapped somebody you have got him. You agree with that? He is with you. He is part of your life.’
‘Yes.’
‘And would you imagine that a person in their right mind would want to have Basil? Even for five minutes? Or are you suggesting that I am not in my right mind?’
‘No . . . no . . . But—’
‘I came to Wellbridge to Do Good, Daniel. It’s my mission in life to make the world a better place.’ She tapped the side of her long nose. ‘It hurts, you know, to be misunderstood.’
‘So you didn’t swap Basil for the little dog?’
‘Swapped him? Of course I didn’t swap him. Oh, I had so hoped that you would be my friend. I’m really very fond of boys with thin faces and big eyes. Some people would say your ears are on the large side, but personally I like large ears. But I can’t be doing with a friend who is stupid.’
‘I want to be your friend,’ said Daniel, who did indeed want it very much. ‘But I don’t understand. You’re . . . Are you . . .? Yes, of course; I see. You’re a witch!’
Miss Tenbury-Smith began to pour out the tea, but she had forgotten the tea-bags.
‘Well, I’m glad you see something,’ she said. ‘But the point is, I’m not just a witch; I’m a witch who means to make the world a better place. Now let me ask you a question. Have you ever seen a kangaroo throwing a bomb into a supermarket, killing little children?’
‘No, I haven’t.’
‘Good. Have you ever seen an anteater hijack an aeroplane?’
‘No.’
‘Or a hamster go round knocking old ladies on the head and stealing their handbags? Have you ever seen a coshing hamster?’
‘No.’
‘Exactly. It’s very simple. Animals are not wicked. It is people who are wicked. So you might think wicked people should be killed.’
‘Yes . . . I suppose so.’
‘However, killing is bad. It is wicked. And I’m not a wicked witch, I’m a good witch. And I do good by turning wicked people into animals.’
She leant back, pleased with herself, and took a sip of hot water.
Daniel stared at her. ‘You mean . . . you changed Basil into a dog? Into that lovely dog?’
‘Yes, I did. I’m so glad you liked it. I adore bulldogs; the way they snuffle and snort, and those deep chests. When you take a bulldog on a ship, you have to face them upwind because their noses are so flat. It’s the only way they can breathe. Of course, when I changed that dreadful baby, I was just limbering up. Wellbridge is a little damp, being so low-lying, and I wasn’t sure how it would affect my Knuckle of Power.’ She stuck out her left hand and showed him a purple swelling on the joint. ‘If you get rheumatism on your knuckle it can make things very tricky. But it all went like a dream. I really did it for that pretty friend of yours – so polite, and such a nice shop her parents keep with everything higgledy-piggledy, not like those boring supermarkets. Poor children, I thought, they’re going to have such a horrible evening.’
‘Yes, but you see it’s going to be much more horrible if the Boothroyds come and find Basil gone. There’ll be such trouble. So, please, could you change Basil back? If you can?’
‘If I can?’ said the witch, looking offended. ‘Really, Daniel, you go too far. And actually I was going to change Basil back in any case, sooner or later, because babies aren’t really wicked. To be wicked you have to know right from wrong and choose wrong, and babies can’t do that. But I cannot believe that the Boothroyds wouldn’t rather have the little dog for a night or two. He’s completely housetrained, did you know?’
‘Honestly, Miss Tenbury-Smith, I’m sure they wouldn’t. I’m really sure.’
‘Extraordinary,’ said the witch, shaking her head to and fro. ‘Well, in that case, let’s see what we can do. Just wait while I change my clothes.’
Chapter Four
‘Well, you seem to be right,’ sai
d Heckie as they approached The Towers. ‘The dear Boothroyds do not sound happy.’
All the lights were on and one could hear Mrs Boothroyd’s screams halfway down the street.
‘Oh, poor Sumi!’
‘Now don’t worry,’ said the witch, who had changed into her school blazer and pleated skirt. ‘I shall pretend to be a social worker. That always goes down well. Just follow me.’
Inside the Boothroyds’ sitting-room, a fat policeman was writing things in a notebook and a thin policeman was talking to headquarters on his walkie-talkie. Mrs Boothroyd was yelling and hiccupping and gulping by turns, and Mr Boothroyd was blustering and threatening to do awful things to Sumi’s family. Sumi sat crouched on the sofa, her head in her hands. Between her shoes one could just see the dark, wet nose of the bewildered little dog.
‘Now, my dear good people, what is all this about?’ enquired Heckie briskly. ‘I found this poor boy wandering about in the street quite beside himself.’ She pointed to the letters WAW on her blazer. ‘I am from the Wellbridge Association for Welfare,’ she went on, ‘and we cannot be doing with that kind of thing.’
‘My baby’s been kidnapped! My little treasure! My bobbikins!’ screeched Mrs Boothroyd.
‘And it’s all these children’s fault!’ roared Mr Boothroyd.
‘Nonsense,’ said Heckie. ‘He’ll just have got mislaid somewhere. It often happens with babies.’
‘We’ve searched high and low, Miss,’ said the fat policeman.
But the little bulldog had heard Heckie’s voice. He crawled out from under the sofa and as she crouched down to him, he leapt on to her lap.
‘Who let that brute in again?’ raged Mr Boothroyd – and Sumi blushed and turned her head away.
‘Dogs give you fleas! They give you worms behind the eyeballs,’ screeched Mrs Boothroyd.
Heckie looked hard at the Boothroyds. She was angry, but she was also amazed. In spite of what Daniel had said, she hadn’t really believed that they would prefer Basil to the little dog. Then she gathered up the puppy and went to the door which Daniel was holding open for her, and out into the garden.
For an animal witch, turning nice animals into silly people is much harder than the other way round. Heckie’s eyes were sad as she shook off her left shoe so that her Toe of Transformation could suck power from the earth. Then she spoke softly to the bulldog, waiting till his tail stopped wagging and his eyes were closed. Only when he slept did she touch him with her Knuckle of Power and say her spells.
Ten minutes later, Heckie returned to the drawing-room. She had held the puppy close to her chest, but she carried Basil at arm’s length like a tray. His nightdress was covered in black streaks, he was bawling – but he was quite unharmed.
‘My lambkin, my prettikins, my darling!’ shrieked Mrs Boothroyd, covering him with squelchy kisses.
‘My son, my boy!’ slobbered Mr Boothroyd.
‘Where was he, Miss?’ asked the fat policeman.
‘At the back of the coalshed,’ said Heckie. ‘The obvious place to look for a baby, I’d have thought.’
‘But how did he get there?’
Heckie felt sorry for the fat policeman who so much wanted to have something to put in his notebook. ‘You want to look for a tall man with red hair, blue eyes, a black moustache, an orange anorak and purple socks. I saw him climbing over the garden wall. It’ll be him who put Basil among the coals.’
‘But what would be the motive?’ asked the policeman with the walkie-talkie.
‘Oh, that’s easy,’ said Heckie. ‘Revenge. Someone getting their own back. He’ll have bought one of Mr Boothroyd’s bath plugs and found it leaked. You know what it’s like when all the hot water drains away and you’re sitting in an empty tub all cold and blue with goosepimples . . .’
But when they had dropped Sumi off in the taxi Mr Boothroyd had been forced to pay for, Heckie turned to Daniel, looking thoughtful and serious.
‘You know, Daniel, I shall have to change my plans entirely. I had no idea people would make such a fuss and be so unreasonable. I thought they’d come to me and say: ‘‘Please, Heckie, would you turn my drunken husband into a dear chimpanzee?’’ Or: ‘‘We feel that Uncle Phillip, who is a handbag snatcher, would do better as a Two-toed Sloth.’’ That kind of thing. But now I see it isn’t so. I shall have to work in the strictest secrecy. Evil-doers will have to be flushed out!’ She peered at Daniel. ‘Might one ask why you are snivelling? Is it because there’s no one at home?’
Sumi’s parents had been there to welcome her, but Daniel’s house, as the taxi drew up, was silent and dark.
Daniel shook his head. ‘I don’t mind being alone.’ He wiped away the tear in the corner of his eye. ‘It’s that lovely bulldog. I miss him so much!’
Heckie examined his face in the light of the lamp. ‘You know, you have the right ideas. Yes, I think I might be able to use you. For I have to tell you, Daniel, that I have just had a vision. I see a band of Wickedness Hunters! Children and witches together, uniting to rid Wellbridge of Wickedness! Yes, yes, I see it all. But first, dear boy, I must get myself a familiar. What a good thing that tomorrow is Sunday. Come after breakfast and we’ll go to the zoo!’
Chapter Five
When Daniel called at the shop the following morning, he found Heckie feeding her hat.
After the quarrel with Dora Mayberry, Heckie had crept back and gathered up her Ribbon Snakes and King Snakes and the Black Mamba, and they now lived in a tank in a room behind the shop, eating boiled eggs and hissing and not being a trouble to anyone. It would have been easy for her to weave them together again and wear them on her head, but she hadn’t the heart, and because she knew that Daniel was a boy who could be trusted with people’s sorrows, she told him what had happened and how dreadfully she missed her friend.
‘We had such plans, Dora and I. She was going to have a little business making garden gnomes and nice things like that, and gradually fill the park with interesting statues. Only statues of wicked people, of course. Dora was Good, like me. Come and see her picture.’
She took Daniel up to the sitting-room and showed him the photo of Dora which she had turned with its face to the wall. The stone witch, with her square jaw and piggy eyes, was not beautiful, but Daniel said she looked interesting, like a prize fighter.
‘Yes, indeed,’ said Heckie, and sighed. ‘And you should have seen her on the netball field! But it’s all over between us.’ And she turned the photo back to face the wall.
When they had fed the other animals in the shop, Heckie went to the larder to fetch a carrot. The carrot was about half a metre long and as thick as a thigh and scarcely fitted into the shopping basket, which was a tartan one on wheels, but Heckie said it would do for their lunch.
‘My friend grows them for me. She’s a garden witch – there’s nothing she can’t do with vegetables, but they do come out rather big.’
‘What I was wondering,’ said Daniel as they wheeled the carrot towards the zoo, ‘was why you need a familiar? I mean, they’re animals that help witches to do their magic, aren’t they – and you changed Basil all right without one?’
‘I don’t need one, but I want one. And nothing ordinary like black cats or toads. I bet Dora’s trailing round with a bontebok by now at the very least.’
Wellbridge Zoo was small, but pretty and well-kept, with flower-beds between the cages. Daniel went there often because his friend Joe, whose father was a keeper in the ape house, could get him in free.
‘Now to business,’ said Heckie when they had paid and gone through the turnstile. ‘You know what we’re looking for?’
‘An animal that’s fierce?’
‘Well, not so much fierce as powerful. Mean. Strange and perhaps a little throbbing; that kind of thing.’
But the sea lions, lying about like old sofas, did not look very mean or throbbing and nor did the giraffes with their knock knees and film-star eyes. They passed the aviary and though the cassowary looked interestin
g with its flabby black wattles and dirty feet, Heckie did not think she really wanted a bird.
‘All that flapping is not very good for magic, I have found.’
But when they got to the hyena, pacing up and down in its cage, Heckie’s face lit up. ‘Now that is something! The way its back end just trails away and those sinister spots, and the smell!’
She wrote something in her notebook and they crossed over to the big enclosure which housed the kangaroos and wallabies – great, rat-coloured beasts with huge feet and mad, twitchy ears which Heckie liked enormously. ‘Oh, I wish I was an Australian witch,’ she cried. ‘Everything over there is so queer and extinct-looking!’
The animal houses were closer together now and Heckie was running from cage to cage, as excited as a child in a toy shop. There were penguins jumping from rock to rock with their feet together like loopy waiters; there was a rusty numbat shovelling up ants – and there was a camel in front of which she stood for a long time. It was a bull camel, tall and sneery with lumpy knees and a lower lip full of froth. Bits of dirty straw stuck to its hump, and a low rumble like thunder came from its throat.
‘I want this camel,’ said Heckie. ‘I want it terribly. But I’m going to be sensible. I’m going to be practical. I’m going to be brave.’
Daniel could see how hard it was for her to tear herself away from the camel, but in the reptile house she cheered up again. It was a silent, sinister place and every one of the animals looked as though it would help one to do magic: the crocodile, smiling in its sleep, the Bearded Basilisk, the iguana like a shrunken dinosaur . . .
In the ape house, they saw what seemed to be a very small ape in blue jeans forking fresh straw on to the floor. This turned out to be Daniel’s school-friend Joe, helping his father clean out the cages.
