by Maeve Friel
“Chop, chop,” she said, raising the teapot. “We don’t want the tea to get cold.”
Felicity, who had just come crashing through the cat flap, stopped in her tracks and stared at the Miss Strega lookalike. Her tail stood straight on end in surprise. Jessica winked.
As soon as the Ordinary People had sat down, the First Ordinary Person rummaged in a carrier bag and pulled out a thick notebook. She licked the end of a pencil and turned over a page.
“We, that is to say, the two of us, have a little list of complaints.”
“Milk or lemon?”
“Milk. Perhaps first we could talk about the dangerous shop sign …”
“Sugar?”
“And we’re very, very worried about vermin—” the Second Ordinary Person began.
“Sugar?”
“Just one lump.”
“Let’s not forget the stray cats …”
“And of course something will have to be done about the owl that’s on the loose.”
“A biscuit?”
“The window display is simply unacceptable—”
“Chocolate digestive or wafer?”
“That wild child is totally out of control. Is she some kind of relative of yours?”
“And pray tell us, exactly what kind of business are you running here?” The SOP squinted again at the drawer labels. “Does that really say Gnat’s Spittle?”
The Miss Strega lookalike tapped her nose.
“Tea first,” she said. “There will be lots of time later for our little chat.” She raised her cup.
The two Ordinary People nervously picked up their cups. They each took a tiny sip. Then they took another and another.
“Mmm,” they said together, smacking their lips. “That’s delicious tea. Any chance of a top-up?”
“Now, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?” asked Jessica when they had finished their second cup.
The First Ordinary Person looked bewildered. She gazed around the shop as if, suddenly, she hadn’t a clue where she was or how or why she had arrived there. She slowly replaced her cup on the saucer.
“What – what was it we were talking about? I seem to have forgotten why … how … er … where … um …” She stood up.
The Second Ordinary Person looked equally baffled. She too set down her teacup and looked at her watch.
“Just look at the time,” she stammered. “What am I thinking of? I have a train to catch.”
And they both scuttled off, without even saying goodbye or thank you for the lovely tea.
“Phew,” said Jessica, removing her bonnet and half-moon glasses. “That Tea of Forgetfulness Spell is magic. It really works. Now, the next part of the plan is to find Miss Strega.”
“Well,” said a familiar voice, “look no further – here I am.”
Chapter Seven
Jessica wheeled around.
There, sitting on her usual place on the high stool behind the counter, was the real Miss Strega. Unfortunately, she was still an owl with amazing ear tufts.
“By the toot of my midnight hoot, I think you’ve done it. You need never worry your enchanting little head about that pair of nincompoops. They won’t give us any more trouble.”
“You’re back!” shouted Jessica. She hurtled across the room to give Miss Strega a hug.
“Hang on!” shouted Miss Strega. “I don’t want you breaking one of my wings.” She fluttered off her stool and flapped on to the curtain pole. “Anyway, I’ve been here all the time, watching you.”
Jessica was shocked. “You have? Oh Miss Strega, I am so sorry for breaking the Witch Switch Promise. I made a Round Brew for you to reappear in your proper shape, but …” Her shoulders drooped. “It didn’t work. If only I’d Switched when the Ordinary People first came back. Then none of this would have happened. I’m just not very good at shape changing. I never have been.”
Miss Strega flapped back down to her stool again. Her head swivelled round owlishly.
“You managed to do a lookalike me.”
“I just dressed up as you,” said Jessica. “I wouldn’t have dared Switch into you. But,” she went on, “I’ve been thinking. Being an owl isn’t the end of the world. You can come and live with me. I’ll look after you, I promise. What do owls like to eat? Dead mice? I’m sure that Felicity will give you hunting tips. And Berkeley too of course. I’ll make you a Brew of Cold Smelly Voles every single night. We’ll be all right, just the four of us. I’m sure life as an owl is really great fun, the way you can move your head nearly all the way round in a circle and the way you can vomit up little parcels of fur, and of course being wise must be very interesting—”
“Stop wittering, Jessica, and listen,” interrupted Miss Strega. “I didn’t get where I am today without learning how to undo a botched Witch Switch. But I stayed as an owl for you to see what happens if you break the Witch Switch Promise. Now, I’d like you to do one thing for me to show that you will never forget it again.”
“Anything you say, Miss Strega.”
“You must do another Witch Switch.”
“What would you like me to be? I can be big or I can be tiny, I can be slippery or spiny, feathery or leathery, hairy or …” Jessica hesitated. “… furry,”
“You’ve left out the most important one!”
“Do you mean scary?” Jessica frowned. That was the one thing she didn’t want to be. Being scary was asking for trouble.
Miss Strega nodded. “Yes, be scary.”
“Do you promise not to scream or be afraid?”
“I promise.”
Jessica thought SCARY.
What was scary was thinking about being stuck for ever in the wrong shape. What was really scary was wondering if Miss Strega would keep her promise.
I really prefer being myself, she thought, I don’t really want to be anything else.
The Miss Strega Owl stared at her with her big round eyes. Her head swivelled.
Jessica thought SCARY.
She thought of scary things, like ghosts in sheets making freaky hollers, or grizzly bears with large hairy claws, or sharks with double rows of sharp pointy teeth and whacking great tails.
To her surprise, Miss Strega suddenly hooted. Her feathery shoulders shook with laughter. Felicity stuffed a paw in her mouth and seemed to be choking. Berkeley was chirruping and hiccupping at the same time.
“Why are you all laughing?” protested Jessica. Then she caught the reflection of a strange creature in the window. It had the head of a ghost, a grizzly bear’s fat tummy and a shark’s tail.
She turned a little red. “This isn’t a mistake. I’m just practising.”
She concentrated hard. Think scary, she scolded herself. Be serious.
But she got it wrong again! Now she was another ridiculous monster with the big hammer nose of a shark, an empty ghostly middle and two huge paws with furry ankles where her own stripy socks should have been.
“Perhaps you can’t do scary?” Miss Strega suggested.
Jessica’s eyes narrowed. “Of course I can do scary.”
“Perhaps you don’t trust me to keep my Witch Switch Promise?”
Jessica bit her lip. “Of course I trust you.”
She tried hard to think of something that would really scare Miss Strega.
Jessica’s eyes flashed and popped out on stalks. Steam poured out of her ears. She blew two long curling plumes of smoke through her nostrils. Her cheeks blazed. Her blood boiled. She swelled up to double her size. She sprouted one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight long, skinny, hairy legs. She skittered along the counter and glared at the owl with big, bulging eyes.
Miss Strega opened her mouth to yell the loudest yell ever heard.
Jessica crossed all her skinny legs and toes.
Please, please, Miss Strega, she was thinking, keep your promise.
“By the creaking neck bones of the snowy goose,” she exclaimed, “that was scary! I do hate spiders, especially room-sized ones
like that.”
And there she was, sitting on her high stool, completely restored to Miss Strega shape. She patted her bun, rubbed her long chin, tapped the side of her nose and smiled at Jessica over her half-moon glasses.
“Yes, everything seems to be back in working order. I’m one hundred per cent me. And you seem to be one hundred per cent you.”
“Thank you for not letting me get stuck. I would absolutely hate to be a spider.”
“It was very brave of you to do a spider Switch – you know how much I hate them – so thank you for trusting me to keep the Witch Switch Promise.”
“You can trust me too – but can we just be ourselves now?”
“Absolutely, my little sugar plum. No more Witch Switches unless absolutely necessary.”
Felicity gave a very loud relieved yawn and climbed on to the Spell Books for a nap. Berkeley flew back into Jessica’s pocket and settled herself comfortably into the pocket fluff.
“There’s just one thing, Miss Strega,” said Jessica, chewing the end of her plait. “If you are clever enough to de-Switch and not be stuck as an owl, why have you left your great-aunt Delenda to be rained on for all this time?”
Miss Strega stroked her long chin. “My great-aunt who? All I can say, Jessica, is that if I did have a great-aunt Delenda who was silly enough to be caught out by her witch-in-training, then she would deserve to be left out in the cold.”
Jessica turned a little red.
“But,” added Miss Strega, “only Ordinary People expect trainees to get everything right first time round. Witches-in-training get second chances.”
She nodded towards the trapdoor.
“Fancy a bit of a spin?” she asked.
“You bet,” said Jessica.
They flew up on to the roof and hovered over the High Street. Below them, hundreds of Ordinary People were bustling in and out of the shops, queuing for buses, pushing babies in buggies, crashing about on skateboards. The bright neon lights of the shops winked and blinked.
Miss Strega looked down at her own little shop tucked in between the toy shop and the estate agent’s.
“I’d better recast that spell on my shop, Jess, before we go any further,” she said. “We don’t want any more hugger-mugger with those Ordinary People.”
She drew out her wand, sprinkled a handful of moondust down her chimneypot and began to chant.
“Shrink into the shadows.
Go back In Between.
By witches’ eyes only
Are you to be seen.”
Then Miss Strega stretched out her hand and took Jessica’s. “Moonrays and marrowbones, all this Switching and Spelling has been exhausting. I think we both deserve a Moon-Vault.”
And off they soared together, up and over the moon.
“Wey-hey!” they roared as they tumbled down the far side and Zoomed off for supper on the Milky Way.
If you enjoyed Witch-in-Training: The Last Task, check out these other great Maeve Friel titles.
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Also by the Author
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Spelling Trouble
Charming or What?
Brewing Up
Broomstick Battles
Copyright
First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Children’s Books 2005
HarperCollins Children’s Books is a division of HarperCollinsPublishers
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Hammersmith, London W6 8JB
www.harpercollins.co.uk
Text © Maeve Friel 2005
Illustrations © Nathan Reed 2005
Maeve Friel and Nathan Reed assert the moral right to be identified as author and illustrator of the work
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
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Source ISBN: 9780007185252
Ebook Edition © December ISBN: 9780007571918
Version: 2014–01–07
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