The Witch Apprentice

by Marian Broderick

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ she said.

  ‘My aunts think they’re witches,’ I said in a small voice.

  ‘And do you think they’re witches, Anna?’ she said.

  I shook my head.

  ‘Not likely,’ I said. ‘Or, at least, if they are, they’re the worst witches in the world.’

  ‘How would you know?’ said Mrs Winkle, her eyes glinting. ‘Do you know much about witchcraft?’

  ‘Well, no,’ I admitted. ‘But Grizz and Wormella do have the pointy hats and the cauldron and all that …’

  Mrs Winkle stroked her chin.

  ‘Really?’ she said. ‘How very interesting.’

  For some reason I couldn’t seem to stop talking.

  ‘And they do keep trying to do spells,’ I gabbled. ‘And none of them ever work. But I …’

  I stopped and tried to get control of myself. After all, I didn’t know if I could trust this big woman with the deep, blue eyes.

  ‘Yes?’ she said.

  ‘Nothing,’ I whispered and looked at the floor.

  Mrs Winkle didn’t question me further. She snapped the register shut and folded her hands.

  ‘When can you start?’

  My heart leapt. Was she letting me join? Was I really going to have friends, and play football, and win prizes …

  ‘As soon as possible!’ I said.

  ‘I’ll need to talk to your aunts, of course,’ Mrs Winkle said.

  My heart sank to my boots, but she smiled and handed me a piece of paper.

  ‘Take this home,’ she said. ‘And ask your aunts to sign it. I’ll make a home visit as soon as I can.’

  The last of my hopes trickled away. Grizz would never sign this – she would rather be boiled in her own cauldron than allow me to go to school.

  ‘Please, Miss,’ I said. ‘Can’t I … can’t I sign it myself and save them the trouble?’

  Mrs Winkle laughed again.

  ‘Very good, Anna!’ she said. ‘That’s what we like here at St Munchin’s – a terrific sense of humour! We look forward to seeing you soon.’ She picked up her pen and started to write.

  I hung my head and turned away.

  ‘Goodbye,’ I whispered.

  Trudging back to Crag Road, my thoughts circled round and round. I’d come so close to getting my wish. But it would all come to nothing. Grizz would see to that.

  As I plodded closer to the house, I slowed down. What would be waiting for me? I hadn’t thought of that when I drugged Grizz and Wormella – and they would be awake by now…

  I stood outside number 13, and gazed up at the sky. Clouds covered the sun and a cold wind was picking up. I had goosebumps all over my arms. I let myself in and crept into the kitchen.

  Grizz and Wormella were sitting at the kitchen table – and Grizz was holding Charlie around the neck.

  7

  GRIZZ’S REVENGE

  An hour later, Grizz was still shouting at me – and Wormella was still throwing up in the kitchen sink.

  ‘I didn’t do anything wrong!’ I protested for the tenth time.

  Grizz tightened her thin fingers around Charlie’s neck. Charlie struggled and let out a strangled miaow.

  ‘And I suppose poisoning your aunts and sneaking off isn’t wrong?’ said Grizz. ‘Did your walk take you in the direction of St Munchin’s, by any chance?’

  ‘N-no,’ I said. ‘I went in the opposite direction.’

  ‘Liar! How dare you tell me such a pack of lies!’ screamed Grizz.

  Charlie yowled in pain.

  ‘Please let Charlie go!’ I said. ‘It’s not his fault!’

  ‘Where did you find that sleeping potion?’ said Grizz.

  ‘From that smelly old book you keep in the cellar,’ I said. ‘And I made the potion myself in your smelly old kitchen! It was easy!’

  Wormella gasped.

  ‘Her potion worked, sister!’ she said. ‘None of ours ever do! Do you think she could do … other things?’

  Grizz’s eyes narrowed to grey slits. She pushed her face close to mine.

  ‘Are you hiding something, girl?’ she said. ‘What else happened in the cellar?’

  ‘Nothing,’ I said. I was becoming an expert liar.

  Grizz stared at me for a moment and then shook her head.

  ‘No, no, Wormella,’ she said. ‘She may be able to cook a potion or two, but that’s it. The gift of sorcery is not given to freckly little girls. It is given only to mature, clever women, like me, I mean, us.’

  I itched to tell Grizz exactly what I knew – that I was a natural-born witch, and that I had only just begun to explore my powers. But it was safer to keep quiet.

  ‘Listen to me, girl,’ Grizz continued. ‘You will never run away again. You will never touch my precious book again. You will stay here and work for me until you die, just like Wormella.’

  ‘And if I don’t?’ I said.

  ‘And if you don’t,’ said Grizz. ‘It won’t only be this mangy moggy that suffers …’

  I glanced at Wormella’s bowed head under its frilly cap. Tears were splashing onto her plump hands.

  ‘Anna, dear,’ she whispered. ‘Please do your training like a good girl. Otherwise … otherwise Grizz gets cross with me, too.’

  ‘Now get digging in the garden, both of you,’ said Grizz.

  ‘Yes, sister,’ said Wormella.

  My shoulders slumped. It was no good. I couldn’t save Wormella, I couldn’t save Charlie and I couldn’t save myself. Grizz was too strong for me.

  ‘Yes, Grizz,’ I whispered.

  What sort of witch was I, when I didn’t even know how to use my powers to defeat Grizz? I dragged myself through the kitchen door and out into the chilly garden.

  Grizz kept me hard at work for the next three days – and kept poor little Charlie in a cage in the kitchen to make sure I did as I was told.

  One evening, Mary knocked on the back door. Grizz shot me an evil look, and opened the door a tiny crack.

  ‘Yes?’ Grizz said.

  ‘Can Anna come out to play?’ Mary asked. Her voice was wobbly with nerves.

  ‘No!’ Grizz snapped. ‘Clear off!’

  And she slammed the door in Mary’s face.

  On the fourth day, I was cutting the guts out of a lizard and staring out of the kitchen window at the grey rain. There was a knock at the front door.

  ‘That had better not be that little friend of yours again!’ said Grizz.

  Wormella trotted to the front of the house and peeked through a window.

  ‘It’s a big woman in a blue suit, dear,’ she said.

  I felt the sweat break out on the back of my neck, as Grizz’s eyes bored into me.

  Mrs Winkle was here! Maybe Mrs Winkle could force the aunts to send me to school! Maybe I could beg Mrs Winkle to take me away right now!

  ‘Let her in, Wormella,’ said Grizz, still staring at me.

  While Wormella opened the front door, Grizz darted over to me, grabbed me by the cheek and pulled me towards the back door.

  ‘Ow!’ I shouted. ‘Where are you taking me this time?’

  ‘No time to get you upstairs,’ said Grizz. ‘Out you go.’

  Grizz dragged me to the garden shed.

  ‘No! Please, no!’ I shouted. ‘Don’t lock me up again!’

  Grizz pushed me though the door, and I toppled onto a heap of old broomsticks. By the time I had struggled to my feet, the key was already turning in the lock.

  8

  MRS WINKLE’S VISIT

  ‘Let me out!’ I shouted, bashing on the door. I heard Grizz’s footsteps retreating up the garden, then the loud slam of the kitchen door.

  I climbed onto the pile of broomsticks to look out of the shed’s one and only window. It was a bit wobbly, but I could see the kitchen window and also hear what was going on.

  Wormella bustled back into the kitchen.

  ‘Mrs Winkle,’ she announced.

  Mrs Winkle strode into the middle of the room and g
azed about her. Her eyes came to rest on the stove top, where the cauldron was bubbling.

  ‘My, my,’ she said. ‘What a beautiful cauldron.’

  ‘Yes, isn’t it,’ said Grizz. ‘May I help you?’

  Mrs Winkle ignored Grizz’s question and stared hard at the purple steam billowing from the cauldron.

  ‘Do you use it for anything … interesting?’ she said.

  Grizz frowned. I could tell it was a struggle for her to remain polite.

  ‘Not really,’ she said. ‘Just the odd herbal remedy.’

  ‘Such as?’ said Mrs Winkle.

  ‘Such as a treatment for baggy skin,’ said Grizz. ‘Can I offer you a cup – or perhaps a large mug might be more suitable in your case?’

  ‘Mrs Winkle!’ I shouted from the garden shed. ‘Don’t take anything from her!’

  ‘What’s that strange noise?’ said Mrs Winkle. ‘It sounded like banging or shouting.’

  ‘It’s mice,’ said Grizz. ‘Large ones. We’re infested.’

  ‘Really?’ How unfortunate,’ said Mrs Winkle. She looked out of the window and straight at me.

  ‘Mrs Winkle!’ I shouted. ‘It’s me! Let me out!’

  I was sure that Mrs Winkle could see me jumping up and down. But if she did, she showed no sign. Instead she turned away to speak to Grizz again.

  ‘I’ll come straight to the point, Miss Mint,’ she said. ‘I believe Anna should be in St Munchin’s.’

  ‘But my sister and I are educating Anna at home,’ said Grizz, smiling and linking arms with Wormella. ‘Aren’t we, sister?’

  Wormella’s mouth opened and closed like a goldfish, but no sound came out. Grizz pinched her hard on the elbow.

  ‘Ouch! Yes, sister,’ said Wormella.

  Out in the shed, I leant my head against the window and closed my eyes.

  ‘Wormella,’ I groaned. ‘When are you going to grow a backbone?’

  ‘And what sort of education are you giving her?’ said Mrs Winkle, running her eye over the jars and bottles on the shelves.

  ‘The usual,’ said Grizz. ‘Maths, English, you know how it is.’

  ‘Has she shown talent in any … unusual areas?’ said Mrs Winkle.

  ‘Such as?’ said Grizz.

  ‘Your herbal preparations, for example,’ said Mrs Winkle. ‘Does she enjoy helping you with those?’

  ‘Dear me, no,’ said Grizz. ‘She’s no help whatever. The child is far too stupid to pick up anything.’

  ‘That remains to be seen,’ said Mrs Winkle. ‘In any case, we have one more place available this year. She has shown an interest and we’d love to have her.’

  ‘Tch tch. What a waste of your valuable time,’ said Grizz smoothly. ‘You see, it’s as I told you. Anna is far too headstrong to go to a big school. She needs … special handling.’

  Grizz and Mrs Winkle both crossed their arms and stared at each other across the kitchen table. Then Mrs Winkle sighed.

  ‘There’s nothing I can do without the permission of at least one of you,’ she said. ‘May I have a word with her?’

  ‘She’s out,’ said Grizz. ‘At her friend’s house.’

  Mrs Winkle sighed again.

  ‘Miss Mint,’ she said. ‘If you change your mind, please make sure Anna comes by the end of the week. If she doesn’t, I’m afraid I shall give her place to someone else.’

  ‘Please do, Mrs Winkle,’ said Grizz. ‘Please do give Anna’s place away to another little girl. She won’t be needing it.’

  ‘No!’ I shouted, banging on the window frame. ‘No, no, no!’

  ‘There’s that banging again,’ said Mrs Winkle. ‘Are you sure they’re mice? They sound enormous …’

  Grizz took Mrs Winkle by the elbow and practically shoved her out of the kitchen.

  ‘So nice of you to call,’ she said. ‘Goodbye.’

  Seconds later, Grizz stormed down the garden path and into the shed. She grabbed me by the hair.

  ‘Out, you minx!’ she screeched. ‘I’ll teach you to bring disgrace to the house!’

  ‘Bring disgrace!’ I said. ‘It wasn’t exactly a model household to start with! Ow!’

  Grizz dragged me into the house, up the stairs and into my attic, followed by a wittering Wormella.

  ‘Don’t hurt her, Grizz dear,’ pleaded Wormella. ‘She’s so young … don’t hurt her.’

  Grizz spun around to glare at Wormella and jabbed a finger in her face.

  ‘Whose side are you on, Wormella?’ she shouted.

  Wormella shrank away from her sister.

  I couldn’t stand it anymore. Someone had to stand up for Wormella.

  ‘Leave her alone!’ I shouted at Grizz. ‘You’re nothing but a bully!’

  ‘And as for you, girl,’ said Grizz, turning back to me. ‘We’ll soon put a stop to this running-away-to-school nonsense,’ She pushed me onto the bed and pointed her wand at the window.

  ‘Bindweed root and cactus petal

  Cover this glass with bars of metal.’

  Nothing happened. There was an embarrassing silence.

  ‘Rats!’ shouted Grizz. ‘Wormella, watch that girl!’

  She stamped downstairs.

  ‘Wormella,’ I hissed. ‘Stand up to Grizz! You can do it! You don’t have to do everything she tells you.’

  ‘Yes, I do, dear …’ whispered Wormella.

  ‘If we banded together,’ I said. ‘We could have normal lives! We could eat normal food! We could have friends …’

  ‘No, no!’ moaned Wormella, pressing her hands to her ears. ‘Stop! I can’t! It’s all too late …’

  It was no use. As soon as Grizz’s footstep sounded on the stair, Wormella scurried into a corner. Grizz entered, holding several planks of wood, a hammer and some nails. In five minutes, the wood was nailed over my window.

  ‘It’s bread and water for you tonight, my girl,’ said Grizz. ‘And no food for that fleabag feline friend of yours for a week!’

  ‘You can lock us up and starve us all you want!’ I shouted. ‘I’m not going to work for you any more!’

  ‘You will stay here until you go crazy,’ said Grizz. ‘Then we’ll see whether you’re willing to work or not. Come, Wormella.’

  Grizz stamped out, followed by Wormella.

  The tears started to fill my eyes as I crept to the boarded-up window. I blinked them away. Through a chink between the planks, I could just see Mary playing in her garden down the street.

  9

  WORMELLA’S SECRET

  From my little attic room, I could hear Grizz calling Wormella bad names for a very long time. Occasionally there was the sound of breaking china. The worst bit was when I could hear Charlie crying in fear.

  I could hardly bear to think what was going on. I paced up and down the attic. If only I could get out of this room.

  I pointed at the door, and shouted the first rhyme that came into my head.

  ‘Fart of dog and piglet’s snout,

  Open the door and let me out!’

  Nothing happened. My powers were a bit patchy, to say the least.

  After dark, my door finally opened. Wormella shot into the room and plonked down a tray of bread and water.

  ‘Oh dear, Anna,’ she said. ‘Oh dear, oh dear,’ and burst into tears.

  It was suspicious. I folded my arms and sat back on the bed.

  ‘Did Grizz send you?’ I asked.

  ‘No, Anna, dear,’ snivelled Wormella.

  ‘Are you sure she doesn’t want you to tug at my heartstrings?’ I said. ‘It’s just the sort of sneaky thing she would do.’

  Wormella sat on the edge of the bed.

  ‘I-I-I just have to talk to someone,’ she said. ‘I don’t know what to do anymore.’

  Great. So now I was an agony aunt.

  ‘Talk about what?’ I said rudely. ‘Trouble with one of your non-magic potions? Or have you suddenly noticed that we all live in a madhouse?’

  ‘I-I-I don’t know what to do about my sister,’ said
Wormella quietly.

  I rolled my eyes. ‘I think I’ve had quite enough of her for one day, thank you very much,’ I said.

  Wormella carried on as if I hadn’t spoken.

  ‘She’s getting crosser and crosser every day,’ she sniffed. ‘And I know that it’s never going to improve,’ she said in a small voice. ‘None of the spells are ever going to work because… because I know we’re not witches really.’

  My mouth fell open.

  ‘You know?’ I said. ‘Since when?’

  ‘Since ages ago,’ gabbled Wormella. ‘I never wanted to be a witch in the first place. I wanted to be an artist.’

  ‘Why didn’t you go to college to study?’ I asked.

  ‘I did. But then Grizz found Ancient Evil in a junk shop, and everything changed overnight,’ said Wormella. ‘She changed. She made me wear pointy hats and cook peculiar food and keep bats. She even made me change my name.’

  Now I came to think of it, Wormella was rather a silly name. ‘What’s your real name?’ I asked.

  ‘It’s Gladys,’ said Wormella.

  Laughter bubbled up inside me, but I pressed my lips tightly together to keep it in.

  ‘What’s Grizz’s real name?’ I asked.

  ‘Betty,’ said Wormella.

  I bit back the laughter again.

  Wormella was now unstoppable.

  ‘I was going to study art in Paris and New York and everything,’ she said.

  ‘And you couldn’t,’ I said slowly. ‘All because of Grizz and her book of evil spells.’

  ‘Yes.’ She started sniffling again. ‘And now it’s too late. I’ve wasted my life working for Grizz. I’m not strong enough to leave her, and anyway I’m too old to start again.’

  I felt a wave of sympathy. I put my arm around Wormella’s shoulders.

  ‘Cheer up, Aunty,’ I said. ‘It’s never too late.’