The Weekend Witches and Other Stories

by Lynne Roberts

get heaps of money. I could give the money to Mum and Dad and then I wouldn’t have to do any more water magic. Maybe I could go to school and ballet classes and learn the flute. Fifty thousand dollars is an enormous amount of money. I ought to be able to go to school for at least two years for that.’ Verity privately decided that she would enter the fishing competition. She insisted that her parents give her half a day off and walked over to study one of the posters that were stuck up in shop windows all over town.

  ‘I need a fishing rod,’ she decided. She went into the sports shop but found to her dismay that the fishing rods were all very expensive.

  ‘You’ll also need a sinker, a lure to attract the fish and a net to catch them,’ the salesman informed her. There had been quite a run on fishing rods because of the competition and only the expensive ones were left.

  ‘How much will all that cost?’ asked Verity.

  ‘Two hundred dollars,’ said the salesman cheerfully. ‘But it is worth it if you win the competition.’

  ‘I’ll leave it, thanks,’ murmured Verity.

  She walked away disconsolately, wondering what to do. She bought a bun from the bakery and wandered along eating it. As she licked the last of the cream from her fingers, she spotted a second hand shop.

  ‘Maybe there will be a fishing rod in there,’ she thought.

  Alas, she wasn’t the first to have had this idea and the elderly shopkeeper regretfully told her he had no fishing rods at all.

  ‘I do have an old net, though,’ he offered.

  Verity looked at the net. It was certainly old. The handle was chipped and cracked where the varnish had peeled off and the net itself had several holes in it.

  ‘I can mend the holes with string,’ Verity thought. ‘I’ll take it. How much is it?’ she asked hopefully.

  ‘You’re the Water Witch aren’t you?’

  Verity nodded.

  ‘Well, a little shower of rain on my window box would freshen up the geraniums nicely. You do that for me and we’ll call it even.’

  Verity sighed and called down a small shower of rain outside the shop. Taking the net she carried it home and stored it safely out of sight at the back of the garden shed.

  The days passed and still Verity had not found a rod. On the morning of the fishing competition she informed her family of her plans.

  ‘I am not doing any Water Work today,’ she announced at breakfast. ‘I have other things to do.’

  Mr Clark swallowed a mouthful of coffee too quickly and started to cough.

  ‘What’s that? You can’t,’ he spluttered. ‘I’ve got you down for lowering the river for the senior citizen’s walking group to cross.’

  ‘They will just have to get their feet wet,’ said Verity firmly. ‘I am going to be busy today.’

  ‘Doing what, may I ask?’ said her mother crossly. She had promised Old Arthur a fine morning to sit in the sunshine and ease his rheumatics, and she didn’t like her plans being overturned.

  ‘I’m going to enter the fishing competition,’ Verity said. ‘Can I go with you, Joe?’

  ‘I’m going on my bike,’ Joe told her.

  ‘I can sit on the back. I’ll even hold your rod and fishing gear for you.’

  ‘All right,’ agreed Joe. ‘You’re not likely to catch anything, though. And make sure you tell people you’re my sister. I don’t want anyone thinking I took a girl with me.’

  Verity assured him that she would keep well away from him when they arrived at the competition.

  It was rather a bumpy ride and Verity had a hard job holding Joe’s rod and tackle box in one hand while she clung to the back of his T-shirt with the other. Her own net, nicely mended, was tied across her back with a length of rope. At last they arrived at the beach. The waves broke gently onto a stretch of golden sand and everywhere Verity looked she could see people setting up sun umbrellas and picnic rugs.

  ‘We have to register here,’ Joe told her as they descended the wooden steps to the beach. He pointed to a line of people, most of whom were male.

  Verity’s heart sank. There seemed to be hundreds of people. What chance did she have?

  ‘Did you bring the entry fee?’ Joe asked her.

  ‘What entry fee?’

  Joe sighed. ‘I knew you wouldn’t have thought of that. Typical girl. It’s okay, I brought enough money for you as well.’

  Verity stammered her thanks as Joe gave their names to a bossy woman sitting at a folding table. He handed Verity a ticket with the number 106 on it.

  ‘That’s your number. Keep it safe in case you win,’ he said. ‘Not that it’s likely.’ With a laugh he walked off to join his friends and Verity strolled along the beach looking for a good spot to fish.

  There were rods and lines everywhere. People were surfcasting from the shore while others stood thigh deep in the water. A few lucky souls had boats and others were perched uncomfortably on the rocks that piled against the cliffs at the edge of the bay. Verity decided that the rocks would be the best place to start. She climbed around the base of the cliff, scrambling over the slippery rocks and trying to avoid the lines that whistled and snapped around her ears as the hopeful anglers cast their lures.

  Finally she reached a small pool almost totally surrounded by rocks. The water rose and fell with a sucking sound and Verity hopefully held her net over the gap in the rocks.

  ‘If a fish swims in here I will easily catch it,’ she thought confidently.

  Three hours later she wasn’t so sure. Her back ached and her arm muscles hurt from holding the net in position. The anglers near her had all caught at least one or two large fish but she hadn’t even seen one.

  ‘This is harder that I thought,’ she complained.

  At that moment a tiny fish swam into the net. Verity flipped it ashore but was disgusted to see that it was not much bigger than her finger. She wrapped it carefully in a piece of sea lettuce and put it in her pocket.

  ‘There must be something I can do,’ she thought. ‘I guess this gap is too small for a really big fish to swim into. ‘I’ll make the water deeper and that might help.’

  Concentrating on the sea at her feet, Verity told it to rise. The water level grew higher. On the beach the startled anglers retreated up the sand, as the tide appeared to be coming in twice as fast as usual and hours before it was due to turn.

  ‘I need more,’ thought Verity fiercely, as she concentrated on holding her net steady. The water was now pouring through the gap in a torrent but it parted and flowed in either side of her so her feet were not even a little wet.

  The fishermen on the rocks abandoned their gear and their position and scrambled for the safety of the grassy bank as the sea continued to rise. Higher and higher the tide came in. Faster and faster the water poured through Verity’s net. She concentrated even harder, thinking, ‘more water. I need more water.’

  Finally the shouts and screams of the people on the shore penetrated her ears. She looked up and was startled to see a huge tidal wave approaching the beach. Boats sped to shore and were left upturned on the beach as their owners hurried to the car park at the top of the hill. Parents scooped up their children and the fishermen dropped their rods and sprinted to their cars and bicycles, frantically trying to get to higher ground.

  ‘Stop,’ said Verity, and held up her hand. The wave hovered above her, towering as tall as a seven-storey building. ‘Go back,’ instructed Verity. ‘Go down to normal right now!’

  The wave subsided slowly, but as it sucked back into the sea it plucked Verity’s net from her hand with a splash of spray. She stood and watched in anguish as her net plunged down to the salty depths.

  ‘I’ll never win now,’ she thought dismally, as she trudged back up the steps to the car park where a muttering crowd of contestants had gathered.

  The organizers called for quiet and announced that the time was up and the contest had ended.

  ‘Who won?’ called out a small boy.

  ‘Nobody,’ called back the bossy
woman. ‘Everyone lost his or her fish and fishing gear when the sea rose so we can’t give anyone the prize. Nobody has a fish, do they?’

  The crowd muttered again and there were heads shaken and disappointed looks on all the faces.

  ‘Just a minute,’ said Verity eagerly. ‘I have a fish.’

  She took the parcel of sea lettuce from her pocket and unwrapped the tiny fish. She held it up along with her ticket. The organizers conferred among themselves.

  ‘It’s too small. We can’t give a prize for that.’

  ‘But it’s the only fish caught. We have to.’

  ‘The rules say the biggest fish, after all. They don’t say what size it has to be.’

  ‘If it is the only fish then it has to be the biggest.’

  ‘The other contestants won’t like it.’

  ‘That can’t be helped. It’s the rules.’

  The bossy woman cleared her throat and addressed the crowd.

  ‘As this is the only fish caught today and presented for inspection, we take great pleasure in presenting the prize to Verity Clark.’

  Verity beamed with pleasure. She stepped up and accepted her cheque, trying to ignore the discontented rumbling from the crowd. A few half-hearted claps marked her achievement then Joe caught her arm.

  ‘We’d better go home,’ he hissed. ‘They’re starting to turn nasty.’

  A few of the men had ugly looks on their faces and were walking purposely towards Verity. Jumping on the back of Joe’s bike, Verity held up her finger and unleashed a shower of rain. It fell in torrents and the crowd quickly turned to run shrieking for shelter. Verity created a small