Jake Cake: The Robot Dinner Lady
Page 3
‘You mean you don't eat children?’ I asked carefully.
‘YUCK!’ said the witch, pulling a horrible face (although her face was pretty horrible to begin with). ‘Why would anyone want to EAT wretched little children when getting them into trouble is so much more fun.’
‘But I'm not in trouble!’ I said confidently.
‘Wanna bet?’ said the witch.
Suddenly a bell rang in the distance followed by a very loud voice.
‘JAKE CAKE, WHAT ON EARTH IS TAKING YOU SO LONG?’ Mum yelled, poking her head round the door.
In that moment the witch's spell broke and my feet shot up in the air. I tumbled backwards into the counter with a great CRASH and wound up flat on the floor covered in sweets (which was not as much fun as it sounds).
Peering through strands of liquoricestring I saw Mum glaring down at me. Her mouth was open but no words were coming out. At first I thought the witch had cast another spell but the look on Mum's face was a familiar one. It was the look she gets when she's too shocked to speak.
I decided this would be a good time to explain that it wasn't my fault, so I took a deep breath. ‘It wasn't me it was the witch and she glued my feet to the floor and she was cackling and said she'd get me into trouble…’
But mum wasn't listening. She had suddenly found her voice again and was making up for lost time.
‘Look at all this mess you've made!’ she sighed in exasperation. ‘Goodness knows what this nice lady thinks of you!’
Nice lady? What nice lady? I couldn't remember seeing a nice lady…
Standing next to Mum was the witch, but she was no longer wearing a pointy hat, pointy boots and stripy stockings. Now she was wearing a flowery dress, a knitted shawl and a pair of fluffy slippers. And instead of cackling she was sobbing loudly into a handkerchief.
‘Oh, my poor shop!’ she sobbed. ‘Whatever will I do?’
‘Mum, she's not a nice lady!’ I yelled. ‘She's a WICKED OLD CRONE!’ Mum gasped in horror, grabbed my arm and winched me upright out of the sugary mess.
‘You are going to apologize to Mrs…?’ Mum gave the sobbing witch an embarrassed look. ‘Mrs Lovely,’ said the witch. ‘My name is Mrs Lovely.’
I would have burst out laughing if I wasn't in so much trouble.
‘You are going to apologize to Mrs Lovely right now, young man,’ Mum demanded. ‘And you're going to pay for the damage you've caused. With your own pocket money!’ Mum folded her arms and waited.
The witch was peering at me over her soggy handkerchief, her eyes bright and smiling. She was obviously enjoying this. I'm surprised she managed to stop herself from cackling, but that would have given her away.
Mum began tapping her foot impatiently and I knew what I had to do.
‘Er…’ I said, trying to swallow my frustration. ‘I'm sorry, Mrs Lovely, for messing up your shop.’
The witch considered my apology, gave one last enormous sob into her handkerchief and then nodded graciously. Mum snorted her approval, paid the witch for the ruined sweets and dragged me from the shop.
All the way home Mum gave me the usual lecture about making up stories and how my nose will grow long if I keep it up.
I just nodded in all the right places and said nothing, which is the best thing to do when you're in that much trouble.
Mum sent me straight to my room when we got home, although not before binning my favourite old trainers and handing me the ugly new shoes. I even had to hand over the bribe money to start paying Mum back for what she gave the witch.
This was the worst day ever, and all because of the tricky witch!
That evening I sat at my computer, looking for clues of any witch activity in the area, I had to prove to Mum that Mrs Lovely was a witch or else I'd be handing over my pocket money for a month!
I'd been searching for ages without any luck when a curious email suddenly popped up on my screen. The sender was anonymous but attached to the email was a scan of a sales receipt:
I didn't know where the email had come from but someone was obviously trying to help.
Maybe it was another victim of the tricky witch who was too scared to confront her.
The receipt on its own wasn't going to be enough to convince Mum that Mrs Lovely was a witch, but it gave me an idea. If I could find the cauldron filled with a magical brew then Mum would have to believe me and the witch would be nailed.
I quickly pulled on my ugly new shoes and slid down the drainpipe.
By the time I got to the high street my feet were throbbing from the new shoes, but I managed to hobble down the alleyway to the back of the sweet shop without yelping or being seen. All the lights were out in the shop so I crept up to the rear window and peered inside.
If there was a large cauldron in the back of the shop I couldn't see it. But then I couldn't see much of anything because it was so dark inside. I needed a closer look. Suddenly a strong gust of wind blew through the alleyway and the window I was peering through creaked open.
GULP!
I glanced around to make sure no one was watching and then climbed in through the window. Landing with a thud, I quickly held my breath. It was so quiet in the back of the shop I could hear my heart pounding like a drum in my chest.
Then, as I crept across the room to search for clues, I heard a terrifying sound.
At first I thought the witch might have a giant mouse guarding the shop, until I realized the sound was coming from my shoes.
SQUEAK! SQUEAK! SQUEAK! they went with every step I took and in the silence of the shop the sound was deafening. But there was nothing I could do. If I took the shoes off, my feet would swell up like balloons and I'd never get them back on again, so instead I tried taking bigger steps and fewer of them.
SQUEAK! SQUEAK! SQUEAK!
Then I heard another sound, but this time it wasn't coming from my shoes, it came from a small dark shadow in the doorway across the room. A small dark shadow with bright-green eyes…
The black cat leapt through the air, pounced on my shoes and started attacking them with its claws! I obviously wasn't alone in thinking they sounded like mice. But my noisy shoes were nothing compared to the racket the cat was making. It screeched and howled and leapt up and down on my feet, swiping with its paws and chewing on my laces!
Suddenly a light came on in the room, the cat scarpered and the witch was hovering in the doorway on her broomstick. She wore a long black dressing gown, black pointy slippers and a floppy pointy hat that was obviously just for sleeping in.
‘Jake Cake.’ She smiled, but it wasn't a nice smile, it was a sly witchy smile.
With the light on I could see the room properly. There was a large cauldron in the middle of the room and it was filled with a mysterious, hubbling-bubbling witch's brew.
‘Aha!’ I said.
‘Aha?’ said the witch, whooshing over to the cauldron on her broom.
‘Yes, aha!’ I said triumphantly. ‘Now I've got proof that you're cooking up spells, you're so completely BUSTED!’
The witch dipped her finger into the cauldron, pulled out a big glob of brown goo and popped it in her mouth.
‘You have proof that I've cooked up a big pot of toffee,’ she corrected.
‘Toffee?’
‘Yes,’ said the witch. ‘Toffee in a sweet shop, how peculiar!’
‘It's probably magic toffee!’ I said. ‘You're cooking up magic toffee that turns kids into frogs or gives them warts or something!’
‘No. It's just toffee,’ said the witch, hopping off her broomstick and lifting up a big crate of apples. ‘Toffee for toffee apples.’
‘Then they must be poisoned apples!’ I said. ‘Everyone knows about witches and poisoned apples. It's not even very original.’
‘No, they're just regular apples.’
The witch picked up one of the apples and took a big bite to prove her point. ‘Just regular toffee and regular apples.’
‘Regular toffee apples?’ I asked suspiciously.
‘Yes,’ said the witch with a mischievous smile. ‘So if you're looking for proof of spells to get you out of trouble you're out of luck.’
‘But you stuck my feet to the floor with a spell!’ I said.
‘No, I didn't,’ she said. ‘The floor is just very sticky around the counter.’
I gave the witch a look that said I didn't believe a word she was saying.
‘I just enjoy getting children into trouble,’ said the witch. ‘But I don't need to cast spells to do that. You're in trouble right now and I didn't use any magic at all.’
‘Aha!’ I said, and this time I was certain that I had the upper hand. ‘Mum doesn't even know I'm here, so I'm not even in trouble, so there!’
‘Wrong again,’ said the witch. ‘I'm afraid your mum is already on her way.’
GULP!
The witch began rummaging inside her long black robe.
Did she have a voodoo doll with a pin in its bottom to wake Mum and bring her here? Or maybe an enchanted crow that had flown on dark wings with a message of my whereabouts? One thing was certain: if Mum was on her way it was because of something foul and wicked and definitely witchy!
The witch grinned as she produced the magical device of my downfall. And do you know what it was? A mobile phone!
It wasn't even a black mobile phone with bats on it, it was bright pink with flowers on it and glitter round the edge!
‘Well, you couldn't have got the number without using some kind of spell!’ I said, still desperately looking for proof of witchcraft.
The witch rummaged inside her robe again and pulled out a laptop!
‘No, I just used the online phone directory,’ she said with an even bigger grin. ‘As an experienced hacker I do find technology so much more reliable than herbs and potions, and practically impossible to prove!’
‘So it was you who sent the email to lure me here?’ I said, feeling well and truly tricked.
The witch nodded. In the distance a small bell rang above the shop door! The witch had obviously been keeping me talking till Mum got here. I froze to the spot for the second time that day, but it wasn't a spell or a sticky carpet. This time it was sheer dread.
As Mum's footsteps made their way through the shop I looked down at my feet, willing them to leg it. It was
then that I noticed the witch's cat had completely wrecked my new shoes. They lay in scraps around my feet as if they'd been through a paper shredder!
Although I was already in trouble, I suddenly realized I was about to get proof of some witchcraft. Mum was on her way and the witch still looked like a witch!
Our eyes locked across the room. I had her! She would have to do some magic to get out of this one!
The witch raised an eyebrow as Mum's footsteps grew closer. Then, in a flurry of activity, she whipped off her hat and dressing gown and kicked off her witchy slippers.
Underneath the witch clothes she was dressed as an old lady again.
The witch threw the ball of black cloth into the corner of the room and produced another soggy handkerchief.
‘Do come and visit me again, Jake Cake. It's been so much fun!’ she cackled, and then began sobbing at the
top of her voice. Mum also used the top of her voice when she found me, and because we've been here many times before I don't need to tell you exactly what she said, except to say that I was in SO MUCH TROUBLE!
The next day I sat in my room, where I would be spending a very long time because
I was completely grounded. The only company I had was our cat Fatty (who doesn't really like me). He waddled into my room, swiped at the tatty shoelace of my
OK, the witch had totally outsmarted me (I told you they were tricky), but because her cat wrecked my squeaky new shoes Mum was forced to fish out the old ones from the bin.
tatty old trainers and collapsed into an exhausted heap at my very comfortable feet.
So I think maybe me and the witch are even.
Until the next time…