by Maeve Friel
At last, when the homing brooms were loaded – and it was not that easy because they were both so itchy that they complained and squirmed and shook their feathery heads like wet dogs trying to get water out of their ears – Miss Strega consulted her clipboard once again.
“What a marvabulous expedition this is turning out to be. I now have Toenail of Wild Boar, (that’s very rare, it’s sure to fetch a good price), a selection of Hedgehog Spikes, a bunch of Tail Feathers from a White Crow, an excellent assortment of Calls by an Owl perched on an ivy-covered tower at Dead of Night, (and you can’t get eerier than that), a Fright of Bats on the Wing, Gnats’ Spittle and…”
She stopped ticking things off her list and poked the middle of her back with the end of a butterfly net. “By Walpurga’s blessed warts, I won’t be sorry to leave this place. I’ve been itchy all day. Could you scratch my back for me, Jess? Down a bit, that’s better, no it isn’t, up a bit, no, down, just a little to the left…”
“Have you decided where we are going next?” Jessica asked mid-scratch.
Miss Strega didn’t answer at once. She had just caught sight of Felicity who was behaving very strangely, alternately rubbing behind her ears and break-dancing along the paths between the trees. Slowly she turned around to face Jessica – and was surprised to see that Berkeley was upside down in her pocket, flinging things over her shoulders. First, Jessica’s Nutmeg Charm flew out, then a cloud of fluff balls, an explosion of birdseed and, last of all, a round pebble with a tiny hole in it.
Jessica turned a little red as she bent down to pick up her lucky pebble and her anti-hair-tangle Nutmeg Charm. “I’m so sorry – Berkeley seems to be spring-cleaning her pocket. She says her bed is scratchy.”
Miss Strega pursed her lips and looked quizzically at Jessica. “But you haven’t been feeling itchy? No? Fancy that when all the rest of us, even the homing brooms, are under attack by invisible pests.”
When Jessica said nothing, Miss Strega tapped the two homing brooms with her wand to send them on their way, and mounted her own broomstick. “By the way, what spell did you put in that brew you gave us all last night?”
“I just made a mixture. I didn’t have time to add the Spell before muncheon.” Jessica fibbed.
“Right.” Miss Strega jabbed at the middle of her back again with her wand. Her voice was quite frosty. “It’s time to go. I’ve some pressing business back at the shop.”
“Oops,” thought Jessica. She had a sudden flashback to an unfortunate accident she once had with a transformation spell, when she turned Miss Strega into a wasp! “I think she knows I’ve been up to something.”
Chapter Seven
Back in her High Street shop, Miss Strega soon cheered up. The twenty-four hour Out-of-Reach Itch had worn off, so that helped. She sang jolly songs as she sorted and stored away all her new stock. She hummed, la-de-da, while she Brewed and bottled Snapping Hazelnut Syrup, the Universal Cure. She made little giggly noises as she stirred a cauldron in which she was making up a Brew with a recipe from The Brewing Year by Delia Catessen. Her Mingling feather flew backwards and forwards, round and round, crissed and crossed and did figures-of-eight.
“There’s nothing like some home Brew when you return from a long trip,” she chirruped contentedly although she didn’t tell Jessica what she was brewing up. Strange spicy aromas wafted around the shop.
Jessica was pleased to be back too. She sat cross-legged on the counter, with Felicity purring on her lap and Berkeley snoozing in her pocket. She sowed a few of the Dragons’ Teeth in small flower pots and put a notice in the window.
Then she made labels for the bottles of Dragon’s Blood.
Miss Strega’s Brew hubbled and bubbled, toiled and boiled. “Is it a bit too gloopy?” she muttered to herself from time to time. “Or possibly not gloopy enough? It won’t do if it’s lumpy but, on the other hand, it’s no good if it’s runny.”
At last, with one final loop-the-loop, Miss Strega pronounced the Brew ready. “I’m sure it will be perfectly galloobious,” she said, pouring some of the Brew into a small cup and passing it to Jessica. “Down the hatch.”
Jessica took the cup.
“Hu-eet,” whistled Berkeley, soaring up to perch on a hook on the ceiling.
Felicity stretched, yawned, gave an orange wink and jumped on to the ground. The homing brooms stopped chatting.
Miss Strega’s eyes seemed awfully twinkly. The shop was so quiet you could have heard a snail squeal.
Jessica sniffed the brew. “It smells delicious,” she said but really she was thinking, “Something is not right, Miss Strega is up to something.”
“Go on then. Knock it back.”
The Brew almost took Jessica’s head off. It first hit her on that wobbly thing at the back of her throat. “Aaaaagh,” she went but no sound came out. It spread from the very tip of her tongue to the insides of her cheeks, along her gums and down her oesophagus. Her eyes watered. She was sure smoke must be pouring out of her ears. Her tongue rolled up and tied itself into a hot knot. She leapt off the counter. “Water,” she screamed but no sound came out.
Miss Strega tapped the side of her nose. “Never bewitch a witch,” she said. “They tend to Spell back.”
“Aaagh,” screamed Jessica silently. Her whole head was on fire. At that very moment, she remembered the Scotch Bonnets from the Market at the Very End of the Earth.
She snatched a piece of paper from the counter and wrote urgently:
She underlined the pleases three times.
Fireworks were exploding in her mouth. Her tongue flared red. Her gums smouldered.
“Hu-eet,” Berkeley pleaded, fluttering around Miss Strega’s head. The homing brooms cooed and shivered their feathery heads. Even Felicity looked worried.
Miss Strega gave them all a meaningful stare.
“Hu-eeeet,” begged Berkeley.
“Fine,” said Miss Strega, reaching for a bottle of Hamamelis and filling Jessica’s cup. “You seem to be forgiven. Have some Snapping Hazelnut Syrup and take a break. I’m going up to the attic to put away the Expedition Kit.” And she sailed up to the attic trapdoor followed by the homing brooms carrying all the baskets and boxes and nets.
Jessica clambered back on to the counter again. She was feeling a bit huffy and a bit weepy, a bit sorry and a bit cross. She looked at The Brewing Year which Miss Strega had left lying open at the recipe for The Scotch Bonnet Brew for tying the tongues of fibbers and spoofers. She looked at the bottles of Dragon’s Blood.
“Never bewitch a witch. They spell back,” she remarked to nobody in particular. Then, very deliberately, she picked up one of the bottles, uncorked it and sprinkled several drops all over the page. She was very pleased to see the writing grow fuzzy, fade and disappear.
“That’s got rid of that,” she said to Felicity and Berkeley, “and what’s more, we don’t have any Mandrake Root to restore it.”
Miss Strega came back at that very moment. She was carrying a tray in both hands and had a rolled-up piece of parchment tucked under one arm. “Now, my little sugar plum, before you go home, I have something for you,” she said, setting the tray down on the counter and waving the piece of parchment at Jessica. “It’s a certificate for completing your first training course. I’ll just sign it and then we can have a little celebration.”
THE STREGA WITCH-TRAINING ACADEMY
CERTIFICATE OF ATTENDANCE
THIS IS TO CERTIFY THAT
MISS JESSICA DIAMOND
HAS SUCCESSFULLY COMPLETED TRAINING IN
FLYING, SPELLING, CHARMING AND BREWING
STAGE 1
GRADE: GOLD STAR
SIGNED..................................................................
Miss Strega carefully unrolled the certificate, put a bell on one corner to hold it flat and took her pen out from behind her ear. As she did so, she noticed the uncorked bottle of Dragon’s Blood and the blank page of The Brewing Year, where Jessica had deleted the Scotch
Bonnet Brew. “Mmmm,” she said, and stroked her long chin thoughtfully.
Jessica started inspecting Felicity’s ears.
After a long pause, Miss Strega dipped her pen in the ink bottle and signed her name in her usual spidery writing. Bella Strega
“Congratulations, Jess,” she said.
Jessica turned a little pink and curtsied.
“And now, let’s have that celebration.” Miss Strega poured out two thimblefuls of Cold Smelly Voles and offered Jessica a plate of biscuits. “Have a biscuit,” she said. “There are orange jambarollies and some new ones I’ve iced myself.”
Jessica’s fingers hovered over the plate of biscuits. They all looked yummy, especially the iced ones that had her name carefully picked out in Miss Strega’s writing. She narrowed her eyes to have a better look – then chose an orange jambarollie.
“You wouldn’t really have let me eat a rompedenti?” she said in a shocked voice. “My teeth could have turned black and fallen out!”
Miss Strega stroked her chin again, as if giving the matter her serious consideration. Then she raised her cup of Cold Smelly Voles. “Just testing,” she said, grinning, “to keep you on your toes. Cheers!”
“Cheers,” replied Jessica, grinning back. But just to be on the safe side, she poured the rest of the Dragon’s Blood over the plate of biscuits. “Never bewitch a witch,” she said, “or even a witch-in-training!”
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Also by the Author
Flying Lessons
Spelling Trouble
Charming or What?
Broomstick Battles
Witch Switch
Moonlight Mischief
The Last Task
Copyright
First published by Collins in 2003
Collins is an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
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The HarperCollins website address is www.harpercollins.co.uk
Text copyright © Maeve Friel 2003
Illustrations by Nathan Reed 2003
The Maeve Friel asserts her moral right to be identified as author of the work.
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Source ISBN: 9780007133444
Ebook Edition © DECEMBER 2013 ISBN: 9780007571840
Version: 2014-01-06
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