by Natasha Lowe
“Well, all you need is some of this,” Mabel said, uncorking the little bottle. A swirl of wind gusted out, tinted pale pink and smelling powerfully of Royal Duchess roses. Mabel shoved the cork back in the bottle, and for the next twenty minutes (timed to the second by Nora’s locket watch), they watched the breeze gently blow the clothes on the line back and forth.
“It is warm,” Nora said. “I can feel it against my face. I’m so proud of you, Mabel.”
“Thank you, Mama.” Mabel smiled, a lump swelling in her throat. Would her shadow mother have been proud too, knowing that Mabel was magic?
“Slightly salty,” Daisy commented. “But that won’t affect the clothes,” she reassured Mabel. “A sea breeze does wonders for laundry.”
When the twenty minutes were up, the pink breeze evaporated away, leaving Nora’s dress and undergarments warm, dry, and scented with roses.
Daisy just kept shaking her head in wonder. “I’m not going to dread wash day anymore,” she said. “Honestly, Miss Mabel, I’m in shock, I really am. No more wet clothes dripping all over the floor on rainy Wednesdays.”
“I hope the committee likes it,” Mabel said, giving a nervous hop. “Do you think I should wear my trousers tomorrow, since some women from the Society of Forward-Thinking Witches will be there? Maybe they would be interested to see how much easier it is to fly a broomstick without petticoats.” Mabel continued. “Perhaps I could enter my trousers as a second invention?”
“I wouldn’t push too hard, Mabel dear; one boundary at a time,” Nora said.
The last thing Mabel wanted was to upset Miss Brewer. But since her mother and Daisy both seemed to be in good moods, Mabel brought up the subject of the orphans.
“Oh, Mabel, I really don’t think it can happen,” Nora sighed. “We are just not equipped to take in a houseful of children.”
“What do you think, Daisy?” Mabel asked.
“Well, we weren’t equipped for you, Miss Mabel, but we managed just fine. Of course we certainly couldn’t manage a houseful,” Daisy said, glancing in Nora’s direction, “but you are getting older, Miss Mabel, and I do miss having a little one around.”
“We will talk about this later,” Nora said, starting to walk toward the house.
“Mama, please,” Mabel called after her. “Couldn’t we manage one small girl? You didn’t see that place. How miserable it was.”
Nora stopped with her back to them. After a few moments she turned around. “You can be very persuasive, Mabel.”
“Does that mean yes?” Mabel said.
“It means I will give it some serious consideration,” Nora agreed.
Daisy winked at Mabel, and Mabel beamed back, thinking how happy poor little Ann would be if she didn’t have to work in the orphanage laundry anymore.
Chapter Twenty-Three
* * *
A Most Distressing Event
DAISY GAVE MABEL A PIECE of old rope and a wet towel to take to school so she could string up a clothesline for her demonstration. Mabel put these things in a basket, along with her dryer spell and the bottles of extra wind. Miss Mantel would definitely be back at school today since the whole faculty was required to attend the competition.
“Do you have to take all of that with you?” Daisy said, watching Mabel carefully nestle the ten little bottles inside the basket. “What if you drop it? There’d be glass everywhere.”
It wasn’t broken glass Mabel worried about. It was the powerful winds inside, which she had no idea how to release safely. “I need to return these bottles to Miss Mantel,” Mabel said. “It’s very important.”
“And you can’t do that tomorrow when you’ve got less to carry?”
“I really can’t. But don’t worry, Daisy, I’m not going to fly.”
“Well, be careful,” Daisy said, snatching a jug of cream off the table. “And don’t forget your cat.”
It took Mabel longer than usual to arrive at school because she walked so slowly. Preparations were already underway for the afternoon’s event. Purple bunting had been hung from all the trees, and a large wooden podium, which Ruthersfield used for all their special events and award ceremonies, had been set up on the school grounds. The podium had rows of built-in chairs, and a purple and gold canvas roof, which, depending on the weather, provided shade for the faculty or protection from the rain.
“Get a move on, Mabel Ratcliff,” Miss Reed said, as Mabel stood on the stairs, staring at the podium.
Mabel was imagining how it would feel to present her invention to all the teachers and important guests. She turned around and said, “Sorry, Miss Reed. I’m just so excited. And Angelina Tate will be here from the SOFTW!”
Miss Reed’s face grew pinched, as if she had sucked on a lemon. “Enough of your chatter, Mabel Ratcliff.” She pointed her wand at Mabel’s chest, and two black Xs flew out, attaching themselves to Mabel’s lapel. “Two tardy demerits, girl. Now, get going, or you will be late for dance.”
Mabel had hoped to drop the wind samples off with Miss Mantel before lessons started, but that would just have to wait until lunch. She couldn’t afford another demerit for lateness, and there would be no time between dance class and sewing. Walking as fast as she dared, Mabel hurried along the corridor and up to the second floor. Lightning, who was exhausted from his long walk to school, waddled past her and kept on climbing. Off to the attic, Mabel guessed. This had become Lightning’s favorite place to sleep during the day. A lot of his friends went up there. It was warm and sunny and kept a great many of the school cats out of the way when they weren’t being used for flying lessons.
“Did you get your candle to work?” Mabel asked Ruby as the girls dusted off their wands at the end of sewing class. They were still making sweet dreams pillows filled with phoenix feathers, which had a tendency to stick to everything, and the ends of their wands were covered in the downy gold fluff that baby phoenixes shed when they grew their adult feathers.
“It’s definitely better,” Ruby replied. “Although the flame is really weak. I’m not sure it will burn forever, but Ma has had mine going all night and it’s still no shorter.”
“That’s wonderful,” Mabel whispered.
Miss Seymour clapped her hands. “Attention please, girls. Regular lessons are now over for today. After lunch we will all meet out on the lawn. I am sad that only a few students seem to be entering the competition. Perhaps the rest of you will be inspired when you see what your classmates have been up to.”
“Did you cross-check all your ingredients, Mabel?” Ruby asked rather anxiously, sweeping up phoenix feathers. “Wind is so dangerous.”
“Don’t worry,” Mabel reassured her. “I checked everything three times and practiced last night; the spell works beautifully.” She gave a little shiver. “I do hope the judges like it. It’s certainly going to make Daisy’s life easier.”
“Are you working with wind too?” Winifred said, startling the girls. It was disturbing the way she crept up on them. Her face was chalky white, and she had dark smudges under her eyes. “It’s, it’s difficult, isn’t it? I’ve been staying up all night getting mine right.” Raising her voice, Winifred added, “But my father is going to be so proud of me. He’s going to love my invention. It’s marvelous.”
“No talking, please, girls. Finish clearing up,” Miss Seymour said, and then with a smile at Winifred, “I’m glad you decided to enter the competition, Winifred. I’m sure your father will be delighted. It just goes to show what you can accomplish when you put your mind to something.” Diana and Florence were giving Winifred puzzled looks as Mabel dragged Ruby off to a corner.
“What is she up to?” Mabel said. “Do you think she’s making a dryer spell too? Has she stolen my idea? Look at her whispering with Diana and Florence. Even they seem mad at her. I bet she stole my idea. She’s always hovering around us, listening in. I have to know what she’s making.”
“Calm down, Mabel,” Ruby said. “Winifred is not an inventor.”
&
nbsp; “That’s why I’m worried.”
As soon as class ended, Mabel hurried over to Winifred, too anxious to wait for Ruby, who was helping Miss Seymour tidy up the bolts of fabric. “Are you really using wind in your invention?” Mabel said, unable to hid her concern.
“I am, Mabel, yes.” Winifred started walking away, but Mabel followed her.
“What is it you’re making, Winifred? I won’t say, I promise. Please tell me.”
“Well, I’m keeping it a secret from most people,” Winifred said. “Except our maids. They’ve been helping me, actually. They love my invention. It’s going to make their lives so much easier.”
“Look, I’ll tell you my idea if you tell me yours,” Mabel said in a panic. She was desperate to know if Winifred had come up with a clothes dryer invention too.
Winifred hesitated. She glanced at Florence and Diana, who both shrugged nervously. “Very well,” she agreed. “But not here. I’m not risking being overheard. And you can’t say a word, Mabel.”
“Of course I won’t,” Mabel said, clutching her basket but not moving.
Winifred started toward the door. “Are you coming then?” she hissed over her shoulder.
“I’d like to wait for Ruby.” Mabel glanced at her friend, who was deep in conversation with Miss Seymour.
“Look, forget it, Mabel. I’m going to lunch.” And nodding at Florence and Diana, Winifred marched out of the sewing room, her two friends scuttling behind.
“Wait,” Mabel cried, hurrying after them. “Wait,” she said again.
Winifred stopped and folded her arms. “So you’ve changed your mind?”
“Where are we going?” Mabel asked.
“You’ll see,” Winifred replied, and with her golden curls bouncing, she marched straight up to the third floor, stopping in front of the door to the attic. As usual, it was open a crack, so the cats could get in and out.
“Up there?” Mabel questioned, glancing around. Apart from the four girls, there was no one else in the corridor. “Why the attic?”
“This is where I’ve been working on my invention,” Winifred whispered, pulling open the door.
“You’re being ridiculous, Winifred. No one works in the attic.”
“You get good, strong winds near the roof,” Winifred said, ducking inside the stairway. Diana and Florence followed, but Mabel stood in the hallway, unsure what to do. “This was your idea,” Winifred called back down. “You wanted to see what I was making, Mabel. So are you coming or not?”
Mabel hesitated a few seconds longer, her curiosity winning out. “I’m coming,” she finally said, climbing the steep, narrow stairs to the attic. There was a ruffling of fur and a soft meowing as she stepped into the dusty space. Violet Featherstone’s cat got up and stalked across the room, giving a yowl of displeasure at being disturbed. He yowled again and settled back down under the eaves.
“Winifred, are you sure about this?” Diana murmured.
“It was Mabel’s idea, not mine,” Winifred said. She fiddled with her necklace, a gold pendant that all the girls knew had belonged to her great-grandmother and had been a gift from the king of England. “And I’m not going to show you anything I’ve been up to, Mabel, until you show me yours,” Winifred said. “How do I know I can trust you?”
“Of course you can trust me.” Mabel sounded hurt.
“Let’s just go,” Florence broke in. “Please.”
“You girls go if you like, but Mabel and I want to hear each other’s ideas.” Winifred nodded at Mabel. “Well, go on,” she said. “You first.”
And so, feeling more and more uneasy, but desperate to know what Winifred had been making, Mabel explained her invention.
“Gosh, that is so clever,” Winifred gushed. “You could put up a little clothesline for a demonstration, couldn’t you? But I bet you’ve already thought of that.”
Mabel didn’t answer. She could feel the sun against her cheek, streaming through the dusty windows, and she suddenly felt too warm, standing in the hot attic. “Your turn, Winifred,” Mabel said.
“Well, you mustn’t say a word,” Winifred cautioned, “because mine really is top secret. Close your eyes,” she ordered. “While I set it up.”
“I’m not closing my eyes,” Mabel said, realizing that this had been an extremely bad idea. “Show me now or I’m going.” She began to walk toward the staircase, where Diana and Florence stood, hovering.
“Stop,” Winifred ordered, holding out her hand. “I’m not going to show you, because you won’t close your eyes, but I’ll tell you, all right.” Stepping toward Mabel, Winifred leaned in close, putting her mouth to Mabel’s ear. “You’re not going to believe this,” she whispered, “but I’m making a clothes dryer too.”
“You are?” There was a sharp pain in Mabel’s foot as Winifred stamped on it.
“Ouch,” Mabel yelped, and before she realized what was happening, she felt the basket being tugged out of her hand. “Hey!” Mabel yelled as Winifred raced across the attic. “Give that back. It’s mine.” Limping after the girls, Mabel clattered down the stairs and grabbed the door handle just as Winifred was pulling it shut. “No,” Mabel screamed, holding on to the doorknob with both hands and leaning back to stop Winifred from closing it all the way. “Why are you doing this?” she sobbed.
“Because I need it more than you do, Mabel.”
“But you have your own wind invention. That’s what you told Miss Seymour.”
“I wanted her to think that so she’ll believe this is mine. And you’d never have come up here with me otherwise,” Winifred panted, trying to tug the doorknob out of Mabel’s hands. “You’re so stupid, Mabel. I just parroted back what you said.”
“Why?” Mabel said, starting to cry.
“Because I can’t let my papa down, that’s why.” Winifred gritted her teeth as she pulled. “He is expecting me to make the Delacy family proud this afternoon. Papa thinks I’ve been working on my invention for weeks, and I will not disappoint him.”
“You won’t get away with this,” Mabel sobbed. “Ruby will tell on you. She knows that’s my spell.” This startled Winifred, and she loosened her hold on the doorknob, long enough for Mabel to yank it toward her.
“Well, help me,” Winifred snapped at Florence and Diana. “Otherwise we’re all going to get in trouble.” Putting their hands on top of Winifred’s, the three girls pulled, and with a cry of frustration, Mabel felt the door move away from her and click shut. She tried turning the knob, but it wouldn’t move. Mabel remembered that poor Violet Featherstone had gotten stuck in the attic last year. Sometimes a draft from the corridor window blew the door shut, and since it didn’t open from the inside, you had to wait for someone to find you.
“You can’t lock me in,” she shouted. “They’ll know who did it. I’ll tell them everything.”
“And who will believe you, over me?” Winifred said. “My father is Lord Winthrop Delacy. He’s a good friend of Miss Brewers and he knows I never lie. You probably just came up here to find that stupid cat of yours, and the wind blew the door shut.” Mabel could hear Winifred’s raspy breathing, and the sound of glass bottles knocking against each other. There was an eerie silence, and then Winifred screamed, “I’m so tired of you showing me up, Mabel.”
A sick queasiness rose in Mabel’s throat. She leaned against the door, suddenly feeling faint. “Winifred, listen to me,” Mabel said, her voice cracking with fear. “You mustn’t open those bottles, only the one with a number three on it. That’s the bottle with the spell inside. The rest are just wind samples, very powerful wind samples.”
“I don’t believe you for a minute, Mabel Ratcliff. Why would I open number three when you’ve drawn little stars around this one? Given it a ten out of ten? That’s obviously your best spell.”
“No, it’s not,” Mabel stressed. “The ten is for wind strength.”
“I’m not stupid,” Winifred said. “You just want to make me look bad.”
Mabel heard th
e girls walking away. “Please don’t leave me here,” she begged.
Mabel pounded on the door a few more times, but everyone would be at lunch now. Sinking down on the bottom step, she hunched up her legs and wrapped her arms around them, salty tears slipping down her cheeks.
Chapter Twenty-Four
* * *
Things Get Dramatically Worse
AFTER SITTING IN A DEJECTED heap for a while, Mabel took off her glasses and rubbed at her eyes, streaking dirt across her face. There had to be another way out of here. She banged on the door until her fists ached, but no one was around to hear her. “I hate you, Winifred Delacy,” Mabel said, speaking the words out loud. She knew Nora didn’t like her to use the word “hate,” but right at this moment it was the only possible way to describe her feelings toward Winifred. Trudging up the stairs, Mabel imagined all the things she would like to do to her. Cut off her fat golden ringlets, snip the feathers from her hat, push her into the canal.
The attic was stifling, and a wave of dizziness swept over Mabel. She sat down on a crate, dropping her head between her legs. Where were her smelling salts when she needed them? Mabel thought, feeling like Violet Featherstone, who always seemed to be about to faint.
When the attic door creaked open, Mabel jerked her head up, a wild hope surging through her. Maybe Winifred had changed her mind, or perhaps someone had noticed she was missing during lunch and had come up to try to find her. What she didn’t expect to hear was Ruby shouting. “Hey, what are you doing? No! Let me out,” followed by loud banging on the door. And then the sound of her calling rather frantically up the stairs, “Mabel, are you in here?”
“Ruby?” Mabel scrambled to her feet.
Footsteps pounded and Ruby exploded into the attic. “Winifred locked me in,” Ruby fumed. “She said you were looking for me, and that I was to go straight to the attic, because it had something to do with your invention. So like a fool I raced up here, but as soon as I started climbing the stairs, Winifred shut the door on me.” Ruby stamped her foot in frustration. “And it won’t open from the inside because I’ve tried.” Her voice shook with anger. “What on earth was I thinking? But I didn’t know where you’d gone,” Ruby reasoned. “And you were talking to her at the end of class.” She stared at Mabel. “Why did she shut us in?”
