Cranky Hazel's Cake

by SK Sheridan

  Cranky Hazel’s Cake

  Chapter One

  Brainbox Has An Idea!

  Cranky Hazel (Young Witch in Training), stared at her cross-eyed cat, Brainbox.

  ‘I’m bored, Brainbox,’ she growled. Cranky Hazel always growled when she spoke. She NEVER talked in a normal voice and definitely never in a soft, giggly little voice. ‘Ellie’s been away ALL weekend. She’s not gonna be back till this afternoon. What in frogs legs am I gonna do till then?’ She pushed her spikey black bob behind her ears and crossed her arms. As usual, Agatha and Anton, Cranky Hazel’s mum and dad, had put clever-clogs Brainbox in charge that morning before they went up to the attic to conjure up frothing potions and lotions. Apparently they had a back log of orders so would be VERY BUSY today and WERE NOT TO BE DISTURBED.

  Brainbox stared back, thinking. At least he stared back with one eye, the other eye was looking in quite the opposite direction, at a toad sitting on a pile of books. Brainbox was exactly the same grey colour as a shadow. This was handy if he didn’t want to be found, (like when he fancied a nice, long snooze), because he’d go and lie in a shadowy place and Cranky Hazel could never spot him.

  A photo of Ellie with her arm round Cranky Hazel, stood on the nearby black windowsill in a pink fluffy frame that Ellie had given her friend as a birthday present. Pink was Ellie’s favourite colour whereas Cranky Hazel preferred silvery-black, although she liked the frame because Ellie had made it. She glared at the photo, wishing Ellie was next door like she usually was at weekends, so that they could get together and have some FUN. Having fun was what Cranky Hazel and Ellie did BEST OF ALL! Ellie’s heart shaped face looked right back at her, with its sky blue eyes, freckly nose and the cheekiest smile in town. Ellie’s Mum had taken the photo in the park last year, when Ellie was six and Cranky Hazel was seven.

  Cranky Hazel wasn’t always in a cranky mood, as her grinning photograph face showed. In that picture, even her dark, twinkly eyes were smiling. Ellie loved Cranky Hazel VERY MUCH because she could be kind and funny and did REALLY COOL spells. It was just that certain things, like bossy grownups, awful weather, silly rules, feeling bored and most of all NASTY BULLIES, annoyed Cranky Hazel quite a lot and made her, well, rather cranky and cross. She stuck out her tongue and blew a raspberry at photograph Ellie, then glared back at her cat.

  ‘Well,’ Brainbox said eventually, in his EXTREMELY posh voice, when the toad had taken a flying leap onto the dusty floorboards and hopped off. ‘Why don’t you go and play round at Alfie Fletcher’s house. You know he keeps asking you to, and it will be good for you to meet more children your own age while Ellie’s not here.’ He took a sip of his tea. Brainbox ALWAYS drank tea. He was a very classy cat.

  They were in Cranky Hazel’s lounge, which her parents had decorated in the traditional witching style. All the walls were painted black with a hint of grey. Spider’s webs (both real and plastic) hung from every corner. A rusty cauldron bubbled away in the fire place, a brown stew in it filling the air with spicy smells. A row of multi-coloured bottles stood on a shelf and underneath them sat a pile of books, (now minus the toad), that had titles like, “How To Turn Toads Into Gold”, “A Witch’s Guide to Humans”, and “Cauldron Meals For Dummies”. The sofa and arm chair were grey, torn and hard, which was EXACTLY how Cranky Hazel and her parents liked them.

  ‘Eugh, YUK,’ Cranky Hazel growled. ‘I DON’T WANT to get to know other children. They’re so dull and smelly. I just want Ellie to come back. She must be HATING every minute of her weekend, being stuck with those bossy parents of hers at her grandparents’ house. Hey,’ she said, straightening up, pushing her ragged witch’s hat up. It had got stuck on her one, small wart, which stuck up on the end of her nose. Cranky Hazel was VERY proud of that wart.

  ‘I’ve just had the most AMAZEBALLS idea. If Ellie can’t be with us here, we should go to HER. She’ll probably be really missin’ us by now, and she might need rescuin’ from her ridiculous mother.’ Cranky Hazel grinned triumphantly.

  Brainbox sighed and closed the book he’d been reading with his paw.

  ‘Don’t you think Mr and Mrs Morgan might object if you and I suddenly turn up at Ellie’s grandparent’s house unannounced?’ He said. ‘They’ve probably been looking forward to a peaceful weekend ON THEIR OWN for ages.’

  ‘A weekend of bossin’ poor Ellie around more like,’ Cranky Hazel growled. ‘Alright then clever clogs. If we can’t go and visit her what CAN we do? I’ve already counted my wands, rusted the cauldron, fed the spiders, toads and mice, polished my hat, rearranged my stripy stockings and practised my broom flying, not to mention makin’ you hundreds of boilin’ hot cups of tea. What else is there to do? She won’t be home for HOURS.’

  Brainbox looked up at the ceiling and blinked three times.

  ‘I’ve got an idea,’ he said, sitting up. ‘Why don’t you make her a welcome home cake? That will keep you busy for a while.’

  ‘Good idea,’ Cranky Hazel growled, jumping up. ‘I’ll go and magic one up in the kitchen.’

  ‘Oh no, you can’t do that,’ Brainbox said quickly. ‘Ellie is a human not a witch. You’ll have to make the cake the HUMAN way.’

  ‘Eh?’ Cranky Hazel stopped and scratched her head. ‘How do you do that then?’

  Brainbox rolled his eyes in different directions.

  ‘By going to the supermarket, buying the ingredients, mixing them together, pouring the mixture into a tin, then baking it in the oven,’ he said.

  ‘OK,’ Cranky Hazel growled, stamping off over the cracked floorboards. ‘Fine. Then that’s what I’ll do, it sounds easy peasy. And it will be the BEST cake Ellie’s ever tasted, so there.’ She disappeared out of the door then stuck her head back through. ‘Are you coming or not?’ She growled. ‘I’ve never been to the supermarket before. This could be fun!’

  ‘Oh dear,’ Brainbox sighed, standing up and stretching. ‘I’m having second thoughts about this plan already.’

  Chapter Two

  Trouble At The Park

  ‘Come on, keep up,’ Cranky Hazel growled over her shoulder. She was stamping along the pavement, her legs wide apart, her hobnailed boots crunching over the concrete. Cranky Hazel ALWAYS walked like that. She never walked normally, and CERTAINLY never in a dainty way. She’d rather eat her own boots that do that.

  ‘I’m coming,’ Brainbox said, sauntering along behind her, tail held high. ‘Shall we take the short cut through the park?’

  ‘Yeah alright,’ Cranky Hazel growled, swinging left through the two high park gates. She stamped off down the path that led round the duck pond and over the bridge, Brainbox padding along behind her all the time.

  ‘Ooh look at that,’ Cranky Hazel pointed to a lush, green blanket of grass laid out in front of her. A low, white fence ran all the way around it. She stared at the bouncy moss and the beautiful flowers poking up here and there all over the grass. Cranky Hazel loved running across grass and she loved smelling beautiful flowers, they were two of her most favourite things to do EVER. ‘That looks MUCH more fun to walk on than this stony path. Look how soft and squishy it is. Come on Brainbox, follow me!’

  ‘Remember what happened last time,’ the cat called, but it was too late. Cranky Hazel hitched up her robes, jumped over the fence and stomped over the bouncy, mossy grass.

  ‘Yippee!’ She cackled. ‘This is fun.’ She breathed in deeply, enjoying the fresh smells. ‘Delicious,’ she shouted as she smelt a rose. ‘Yummy,’ she cackled as she sniffed a geranium. Brainbox watched, his eyebrows raised, as Cranky Hazel danced around the daisies, jigged around the jasmine and trotted around the tulips, cackling all the time. Young witches loved perfecting their cackle, and Cranky Hazel practised hers a lot, mostly at bed time or in th
e shower.

  Mr Perkins the park keeper looked up from the recycling bin he was emptying. He took the park rule book EXTREMELY seriously and had spent a long time learning it off by heart. He’d met Cranky Hazel before, he remembered, possibly around this time last year, and it hadn’t gone well. He cleared his throat, but Cranky Hazel didn’t take any notice.

  ‘Hey,’ he yelled, reaching for his whistle. ‘Hey you, little witchy in the pointy hat. Can’t you see the sign? It says, “Please Do Not Walk On The Grass”.’ He pointed at a small white sign stuck into one corner of the lawn.

  Cranky Hazel stopped stomping and stared at him.

  ‘What is the point,’ she growled loudly. ‘Of growin’ grass in a park if you can’t even walk on it? It’s like taking a van full of ice creams to the beach then not selling any to hungry children. It’s ridiculous and it doesn’t make sense.’

  ‘It’s important grass,’ Mr Perkins said, puffing his chest out as far as he could as he marched towards her. He didn’t know WHY it was important grass, but it must be if there was a sign saying not to walk on it. Signs meant a lot to Mr Perkins. ‘It can’t be disturbed. Not even I am allowed to walk on it.’

  ‘Well that’s just really SILLY then isn’t it?’ Cranky Hazel growled loudly, standing her ground.

  Brainbox sighed and waited. This was exactly what had happened last year. He reflected that in future, Cranky Hazel better stick to the playground area at the other end of the park. She and Ellie went there a lot with Ellie’s mum after her friend got back from school. Sometimes Brainbox came along if he had nothing better to do, so he knew that Ellie and Cranky Hazel had great fun going on the slide, swings, roundabout, climbing frame and seesaw together as well as playing hide and seek behind the tall trees and wide bushes. (That is until Cranky Hazel got over tired and started ZAPPING things with her wand, and had to be led home in a mood for dinner and bed). Things did not tend to go so well at THIS end of the park.

  ‘GET OFF THE GRASS,’ Mr Perkins shouted, his face flushing purple. ‘If you don’t get off now, I’ll blow my whistle.’

  Cranky Hazel rolled her eyes.

  ‘Ooh no,’ she said. ‘Not the whistle. Anythin’ but the whistle.’ She did a little jig next to the jasmine, kicking the edge of her robes into the air and flashing her stripy green and black stockings.

  ‘Right, that’s IT,’ Mr Perkins yelled, trembling. He was sure the rule book DEFINITELY said no jigging next to the jasmine. He stuffed the whistle into his mouth and blew hard.

  ‘PHEEEEEEEEEE!’

  ‘Ooh, that’s a horrible noise,’ Cranky Hazel growled, putting her hands over her ears. ‘Come on Brainbox, let’s go. I’ve had enough of it here. We’ve got more important things to do, like buy ingredients for Ellie’s welcome home cake.’ She stomped off towards the path, her cat following and watching as she reached deep into her robe pocket and pulled out her wand.

  A little backwards flick of her wrist sent an arc of CRACKLING black and silver whistle shapes shooting into the air towards Mr Perkins.

  ‘Whoops,’ she cackled, as his park keeper’s hat flew off and got stuck high up in a tree. ‘I think my wand slipped.’

  ‘Cranky Hazel,’ Brainbox said, shaking his head. A smile seemed to have spread across his feline face. ‘You’ve got to behave yourself from now on. No more shenanigans and definitely none in the supermarket. Look, that’s the gate we need.’ He pointed to a small gate set between a greenhouse and a wall with his paw.

  ‘Come on then, keep up,’ she growled, stamping towards it down the gravelly path.

  ‘Where’s my hat?’ Mrs Perkins shouted.

  Cranky Hazel cackled as she slammed the gate behind her.

  Chapter Three

  Supermarket Adventure

  Cranky Hazel had been jumping backwards and forwards through the automatic doors of the supermarket for four and a half minutes.

  ‘Come on, let’s go,’ Brainbox said sternly. ‘If we stay here any longer the cake won’t be made and baked by the time Ellie gets back.’

  ‘This is fun,’ she cackled, ignoring him. A man in a smart suit took one look at what Cranky Hazel was doing, then stuck his nose in the air and walked away, tutting. Cranky Hazel ignored HIM too. She never cared what ANYONE thought about her. ‘What great doors,’ she growled. ‘I want some. Where do you think they’d look best? In Granny’s lounge?’

  ‘Don’t even THINK about it,’ Brainbox said, imagining the whole house full of automatic doors and shaking his head.

  ‘Alright spoilsport,’ Cranky Hazel jumped through into the supermarket one last time and picked up a basket. She stared at the aisles in front of her, with their signs and brightly wrapped assorted packets, tins and bottles. ‘Wowzers, what a lot of food! I LOVE it here, I bet they even sell pickled seaweed, which as you know, is my very favourite snack. Come on then. What do we need first?’

  ‘Butter,’ Brainbox stalked off. ‘You always need butter when you’re making a cake.’

  ‘What about baked beans?’ Cranky Hazel growled, as they passed a high stack of tins. ‘Ellie LOVES baked beans. I think I’ll put some of them in the cake.’ She threw a tin into the basket.

  ‘No,’ Brainbox said. ‘DEFINITELY not. No one eats baked bean cakes.’

  ‘Well Ellie’s not a no one. She’s a SOME ONE,’ Cranky Hazel growled. The tin of baked beans remained in the basket.

  ‘Cheese?’ Cranky Hazel suggested, as they passed a fridge full of different coloured cheeses. ‘Ellie loves cheese. I think we’ll put some of that in.’

  Brainbox groaned.

  ‘We’re not making a cheesecake,’ he sighed. But Cranky Hazel picked up a huge lump of orange cheese and heaved it into the basket.

  ‘There,’ she growled. ‘That looks tasty.’

  ‘There’s the butter,’ Brainbox pointed. ‘You need a tub of that.’ Cranky Hazel chucked the biggest one she could find into the basket.

  ‘That should be enough, I reckon,’ she growled.

  ‘Ah, here’s the baking aisle,’ Brainbox said as they rounded a corner. ‘Look, there are the eggs.’ He pointed to rows of fragile looking cardboard boxes.

  ‘How many eggs do we need? About thirty?’ Cranky Hazel asked.

  ‘Just get a pack of six,’ Brainbox said. ‘But check inside to make sure none of them are broken before you put the box in the basket.’

  Cranky Hazel grabbed a box by the lid and lifted it up. All the eggs slid out and smashed on top of her hob nailed boots, leaving a yellow, crunchy puddle oozing all around her.

  ‘Whoops,’ she cackled, as Brainbox rolled his eyes and looked over his shoulder. No one else was in the baking aisle. Cranky Hazel reached for her wand and with a flick of her wrist sent tiny chicken shaped glitter balls CHEEPING all over the eggy mess. They sucked up the mess like sponges then disappeared.

  ‘Try again,’ Brainbox said. ‘But this time, BE CAREFUL. Hold the box with both hands.’

  Cranky Hazel grabbed a box of eggs with one hand and opened the lid with the other. Six perfect eggs sat in two rows of three.

  ‘Yep,’ she growled, closing the box and putting it in her basket on top of the butter. ‘These ones will do. Now what?’

  ‘Sugar and icing sugar,’ Brainbox pointed at some different sized bags. Cranky Hazel picked up two and chucked them on top of the baked beans. ‘And flour,’ Brainbox pointed to another shelf. ‘Get self-raising flour.’

  ‘Alright, bossy-boots,’ Cranky Hazel stamped over and chose a big bag and heaved it into the basket. It was now so full it was becoming a bit difficult to pick up.

  ‘Now let’s go and pay,’ Brainbox said, turning.

  On the way to the tills, Cranky Hazel added chocolate chip biscuits, frozen chunky chips and a packet of sausages to the basket.

  ‘I think we have all the ingredients for our cake now,’ she growled, slamming the basket on to the next free counter.

  ‘Did you find everything you were looking for today, young lady?’ The s
hop assistant asked as he beeped each item through.

  ‘No,’ Cranky Hazel growled. ‘I was lookin’ for pickled seaweed and you don’t seem to have any. It’s my favourite snack and I haven’t had any for ages.’

  ‘Ah,’ the shop assistant’s brow crinkled. ‘No, ah, I don’t think we sell, er, pickled seaweed.’

  ‘Oh,’ Cranky Hazel growled, her bottom lip sticking out.

  ‘Um,’ the shop assistant said. ‘That will be nine pounds and seventy six pence, please.’

  Cranky Hazel took off her witch’s hat and shook it. A bulging purse fell out on to the counter. (Her parents, who were always busy making potions and lotions to sell so they could pay the electricity bill, left a steady supply of money out for Cranky Hazel and Brainbox, just in case they ran out of bread or toothpaste or chocolate or something else important). Cranky Hazel grabbed her purse, undid the zip, and counted out the right money, slamming each coin down on the counter HARD.

  ‘There!’ She growled when she’d finished.

  ‘Thank you,’ the shop assistant said faintly, handing Cranky Hazel her bag of shopping. ‘Have a nice day.’

  Chapter Four

  Bully Boy

  ‘Shall we walk through the park again?’ Cranky Hazel asked, stomping along, swinging her bag of shopping. ‘I could whizz Mr Perkin’s hat even higher this time.’

  ‘No, I don’t think so,’ Brainbox said hurriedly. ‘I think we better go home the long way. It will do us both good to get a bit of exercise.’

  ‘Oh OK,’ Cranky Hazel growled, and stamped off at a fast pace down a street lined with houses.

  ‘Doo-bee-doo-bee-dooh,’ she growl-sang, as they walked along past fences, cars and trees, Brainbox padding along next to her. Cranky Hazel liked singing A LOT and her favourite television programme was “The Witch Factor”, which was a singing competition. She thought she might enter when she was older. Brainbox wasn’t sure about THAT idea but he was too polite to say anything.