by Sally Rippin
I can’t just go home! Polly thinks. Not when everything is still so messed up out here!
And without another thought, she turns the broomstick around.
‘What are you doing?’ Buster yowls. ‘This isn’t the way home!’
‘I can’t let Mrs Halloway destroy the monsters’ hide-out,’ she yells, her chest filled with an anger that makes her feel fierce and brave. ‘She is after us, not them! Somehow, she keeps tracking us down. There must be some way she can sense where we are. How would she know to come looking for us at Flora and Mortimer’s house? Or even here, deep in the forest?’
The stones burn hotter and hotter as she flies towards Mrs Halloway. And suddenly Polly understands. ‘Of course! It’s the stones! Mrs Halloway can feel the pull of the stones, too, Buster! That’s how she has been able to track me down.’
She thinks about tossing the magic stones into the forest below, far from where Mrs Halloway is circling, to see if it will draw her away from the monsters’ hide-out. But then she sees Mrs Halloway swooping in and out of a thin line of smoke above the treetops, sparks flashing from her wand, and she has an even better idea.
‘Mrs Halloway!’ Polly yells, as loudly as she can. ‘Over here!’
Mrs Halloway looks up just as a flash from Miss Spinnaker’s wand below strikes the end of her broomstick. The bristles burst into flame. Mrs Halloway chants a spell to put out the fire, but even before Polly has spun her broomstick around again, she can see the Silver 500 has been damaged. It wobbles precariously, its bristles singed and smoking.
‘Over here!’ Polly yells again, glancing back over her shoulder, as she flies away from Mrs Halloway, across the treetops and towards the mountains. Even though Mrs Halloway’s broomstick has been hit, Polly knows she will have to fly as fast as she possibly can to avoid being caught.
‘Oh, Polly,’ Buster groans as he holds on tight. ‘Where are we going?’
‘We have to get Mrs Halloway away from the monsters,’ Polly shouts. ‘It’s my fault she found them. We have to make her follow us and then I’ll find us somewhere to hide.’
‘But where?’ Buster yelps. ‘You said she will find us anywhere as long as you have those stones in your pocket. Why don’t you just get rid of the stones, Polly?’
‘I can’t!’ Polly cries. ‘Don’t you see? Ever since Miss Spinnaker activated them they have been sending me messages, stronger and stronger. There’s something they want me to do. Something important. Something that might make everything OK again. They didn’t choose you, or Miss Spinnaker, or even my big sister, Winifred, who is much smarter and better at spells than I am. They chose me, Buster! I may have messed up a lot of things but that doesn’t mean I can’t fix them, too!’
Buster groans and Polly lifts her hand carefully from the broomstick handle to reach for his paw. ‘But I can take you home first if you want me to,’ she calls softly into the wind. ‘You didn’t ask to get caught up in all this trouble. I would absolutely understand if you wanted to go home now, Buster. I can do this last bit without you. The stones have chosen me to do this thing, whatever it is. Not you.’
Polly feels Buster’s paw shrink in her hand and she knows he is afraid. She knows he really, really wants to go home. But all the same, she secretly hopes deep in the bottom of her heart that he will say what she wants him to say. What he always says when Polly needs him most.
‘No, Polly,’ he says, his voice quiet but firm. ‘It’s me and you.’
Polly smiles as she answers him.
‘And you and me.’
‘And that’s the way
it will always be,’
they say together, and Polly’s heart soars with gratitude.
Because nothing is ever quite so scary with a best friend by your side.
They skim the treetops and, as the forest falls behind, Polly spies the jagged blue mountain range that is the furthermost point of Blackmoon Coven. An eerie purple mist hovers above it. As they draw closer, Polly smells a terrible smell of damp and jackrock and sorrow.
She stares at the mountain ahead of them. A dark red gash splits open one side. Even though the sight of it chills her, and Miss Spinnaker’s warnings still ring in her ears, she knows this is where she is meant to be. This is where the stones have been leading her ever since Miss Spinnaker activated them in her little kitchen a lifetime ago. That was the moment everything changed.
Whatever those stones want me to do here, Polly thinks, I am not going to let them down. I will prove to Miss Spinnaker that I am not just an ordinary nine-year-old witch, bad at spells and even worse at holding my temper. I am a Silver Witch!
‘Come and get me!’ she yells out over her shoulder, to where she imagines Mrs Halloway will soon be closing in on them. Then she tips the front of the broom gently downwards and they begin their descent.
‘What is this place?’ Buster asks, peering over her shoulder, his voice full of fear.
‘The Hollow Valley Mines,’ Polly says quietly. She already knows that Buster will be horrified.
‘The Hollow Valley Mines?’ he repeats. ‘But those mines are haunted, Polly! Everyone knows that! Nobody goes into the Hollow Valley Mines anymore!’
‘Well then, we can be pretty sure this is a safe place to hide from Mrs Halloway, can’t we?’ she says, sounding braver than she feels.
After all, what witch or monster isn’t scared of ghosts?
Silently, Polly drifts to the ground. They land on the rocky slope with a gentle thud. Polly hides Miss Spinnaker’s broomstick behind a rock and the two of them stand for a moment, staring into the dark gaping hole in front of them.
Polly takes a deep breath. Mrs Halloway will be only moments away and they have no time to lose. She takes Buster’s paw and they walk slowly towards the opening of the mines.
Polly knows she would have never really been brave enough to do this on her own. And, not for the first time, she feels thankful for the warmth of Buster’s paw in her hand.
Polly and Buster step into the long dark tunnel, which slopes down sharply into the belly of the earth. The ceiling drips with dank and the floor is slimy and cold. Daylight disappears quickly once they have walked a little way in, and Polly holds her hands out in front of her, edging slowly forward, hoping she doesn’t bump into anything creepy.
‘It’s dark in here,’ Buster murmurs, shuffling close behind her. ‘And spooky. Do we have to go much further? Can’t we just hide here until we know Mrs Halloway has gone? She won’t be able to see us anymore. I mean, I can hardly see you anymore! And you’re right in front of me!’
‘No, I have to keep going further,’ Polly says. ‘I feel like there’s something important the stones want me to do here. I don’t know what it is, but there’s something they want me to find.’
‘OK,’ says Buster good-naturedly. ‘But I hope the stones maybe just want you to find a restaurant or something down here.’
‘Ha, ha,’ Polly says, rolling her eyes at Buster’s silly joke.
‘What would a restaurant in a mine serve?’ Buster wonders out loud as he bumbles along behind Polly. ‘Rock cakes? Crystal shakes? Flipcakes with coal flavouredsauce? Ugh. They wouldn’t taste very nice, would they? Would they, Polly?’ He chuckles at his own jokes.
Polly ignores him. She wishes Buster would be quiet. She is finding it hard to listen out for danger over his constant chatting. It is getting darker and darker with every step, and Polly feels all her senses on high alert.
‘Um, Polly?’ Buster says eventually. ‘How are we going to find what you’re looking for if we can’t even see?’
‘I don’t know, Buster!’ she says. She stops walking, and Buster bumps into her. She feels annoyed with him even though he has done nothing wrong.
She stares into the dark tunnel ahead. It disappears into blackness. Why didn’t I bring a light? she thinks crossly. There were plenty of brinkets in the cupboard at Flora’s house. I’m so stupid not to think to bring a light.
Polly knows that
without a light, they are not going to be able to go much further. She sighs. But they’ve come all this way. They can’t turn back now!
Stupid stones! she thinks. Why did they bring me here? Why couldn’t they have chosen a grown-up, at least? Miss Spinnaker would have been a much better choice.
But now Polly feels annoyed with Miss Spinnaker, too. She thought her teacher knew everything. But now she knows she’s just like all the other grown-ups who pretend they know things when they don’t.
Polly feels her heart hurting. It aches with sorrow and disappointment, and suddenly everything that had once seemed so important feels hopeless. Soon, she is so heavy with sadness she can barely stand. Her legs give way from under her and she crumples to the floor. Deep, howling sobs clench at her heart and her chest, and squeeze every little glimmer of hope out of her.
‘Polly!’ says Buster, crouching above her. ‘Polly!’ he calls again, shaking her arms and trying to pull her upright.
‘Go away, Buster!’ she yells, and her echo yells right back at them. ‘You are stupid and dumb and annoying and I wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for you. I should have never done that spell in the gallery to protect you. This is all your fault!’
‘Oh,’ comes Buster’s voice, small and close to her ear, twisted with hurt.
Polly hears him stand up and begin to shuffle his way back to the entrance. Part of her, a big nasty loud roaring part of her, wants him to go away. It wants to hurt him and hurt him again and again, just to see how much she can.
But then she feels a tiny flame burning deep in her belly, just the smallest, bravest flicker of hope struggling against the darkness that is filling her body like a poisonous swamp. This is the part of her that is good and kind and true.
She dips her fingers into her pocket to touch the stones, as she has so often done. They feel warm against her fingertips. But this time their warmth travels up through her hand, along her arm, across her chest and right into her heart, and suddenly her mind begins to clear.
‘Wait!’ she calls out. She sits up and sees Buster almost at the mouth of the tunnel. He is small and grey with sadness and her heart cracks to know she has done this to him.
‘Wait, Buster! It’s the mines! It’s the mines that are doing this to me. They are pulling me down into their darkness. Can’t you feel it too? I’m so sorry, Buster. I didn’t mean any of those things I just said to you. You know that. You are the best monster in the whole entire world and there is no one I love as much as you.’
Buster pauses in the entrance way and turns around. His face is pale with sorrow. ‘Do you mean it?’ he says, his voice small and broken.
‘Of course I mean it. Look!’ She holds up the pouch of stones. ‘The stones are making me feel better. And, look, Buster! They are making light, too.’
And it’s true. When she opens the pouch, the glow from the stones lights up the cave so brightly they can see every jagged detail of the rock face. Polly laughs a hiccupping kind of laugh, tears still drying on her cheeks.
‘Come on, my dearest, truest, bestest friend.’ She stands up and holds out her arms. ‘Come back, please. I can’t do this without you.’
She watches Buster’s silhouette grow bigger and taller and wider as he walks back towards her.
‘I wouldn’t have left you anyway,’ he says when he reaches her, smiling shyly. ‘I was just pretending. Friends don’t leave friends alone in spooky mines.’
Polly gives him the biggest hug ever. Then she takes his paw and they face forward again. ‘All right,’ says Polly. ‘Let’s find out why the stones want me here, OK?’
‘OK,’ Buster says. ‘Then can we go home?’
‘Then we can go home,’ Polly promises.
Polly and Buster continue down the long narrow tunnel, following the steel railway tracks that stretch endlessly ahead of them. The stones light the way and keep Polly’s mind clear from the darkness of the mines.
Buster has stopped talking now, and Polly concentrates hard on listening out for any sounds other than the drip, drip, dripping of water and the echo of their nervous breathing. On and on they walk, with no idea where they are going and the tunnel growing darker and narrower with each step.
Polly tries to picture what these deserted mines would have been like when they were full of workers. She imagines them noisy with rackety wooden carriages overflowing with rocks and precious stones, hauled to the surface by strong monsters, heaving and panting with effort.
Suddenly Buster grips Polly’s hand and pulls her to a stop. ‘Did you hear that?’ he whispers.
Polly cranes her head forward to listen into the dark. She hears a low rushing sound rolling up through the tunnel, like wind singing through the trees or a distant roaring ocean. The hairs on her arms begin to prickle.
‘What is it?’ Buster whispers again.
‘Shhh …’ Polly says, and puts a finger to her lips. The sound comes again, a little louder this time. She grips Buster’s paw tightly and she can feel him shrink a little in fear.
Buster jiggles on the spot. ‘Oh, Polly, oh Polly, oh Polly,’ he murmurs. ‘I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all!’
Polly holds the pouch of stones up high and peers into the darkness. The sound comes again. This time it is louder and clearer and Polly can even make out some words.
‘Go away! Go awaaaaaaaay!’ it howls, and Buster pulls hard at Polly’s hand.
‘Stop it!’ Polly whispers to Buster. ‘Who’s there?’ she calls out into the dark.
The voices come again. ‘We are the ghosts of the Hollow Valley Mines …’ they croon. ‘Scary, scary ghosts. Run away, little children! Run away!’
‘You heard them!’ Buster yelps, tugging at Polly’s hand, but Polly stands firm. Her heart is pounding and her legs are wobbly but she takes a deep breath and allows the warmth of the stones to fill her belly with courage.
‘Show yourselves!’ she demands. ‘We’re not scared of ghosts, are we, Buster?’
Buster stares at Polly like she’s gone completely nuts.
Polly widens her eyes at him. ‘Are we, Buster?’ she says, firmly.
‘Nope!’ Buster squeaks. ‘Nope! Not ghosts. Definitely not scared of ghosts!’
The voice comes again, louder and angrier. ‘Well, you should be! We are scary ghosts. Very scary ghosts! You should run away while you can! Go home and never come back here again!’
‘Why?’ shouts Polly, sounding braver than she feels. ‘What are you going to do to us?’
There is a pause, and Polly hears an awkward mumbling while the ghosts whisper among themselves. Another spooky voice pipes up. ‘We are going to scaaaaare you! That’s what we’re going to do!’ And as if to prove it, the voice finishes with a long, particularly scary, ‘Hooooooooooooo!!!’
Polly frowns. ‘Well, you’d do a much better job of scaring us if we could see you,’ she snorts.
The ghosts go quiet. Then, one by one, they slip out from the rocky tunnel walls and hover in front of Polly and Buster. Three shimmering, misty figures shake their ghostly arms at them and pull their scariest faces.
But somehow, in the bright light of the magic stones, it is hard for them to seem scary at all. The smallest one is trying so hard to pull a scary face it actually makes Polly laugh. Even Buster’s tight grip on Polly’s hand seems to relax a little.
‘OK, not scared,’ says Polly, and she makes to move past them, pulling Buster along behind her.
The ghosts look at each other in alarm. ‘Noooo!’ they shriek. ‘You must not go further! Turn back! Turn back!’
‘Or what?’ says Polly.
‘Or, or …’ they look at each other anxiously, ‘we’ll scaaaare you!’ They spin around Polly and Buster and shake their ghostly fingers right in Polly’s face.
But Polly keeps walking. Up ahead she sees a dark hollow in the side of the tunnel wall. The ghosts notice that she has seen it and spin around her more urgently.
‘Go back! Go back!’ they shriek. ‘
This is no place for children. Go home! Run away. Whatever you do, don’t go into that chaaaaaamberrrr!’
Buster shrugs. ‘Maybe they know what they’re talking about?’ he says nervously. ‘That’s a pretty spooky-looking chamber.’
Polly holds out the magic stones. They are gleaming brighter than ever. ‘Buster! Don’t you understand? There’s something in there the ghosts don’t want us to see. But look at the stones! Look how brightly they are shining! The stones want me to go into that chamber, so I’m going in! Are you coming with me, or not?’
Buster sways a little from side to side, and chews his bottom lip.
‘Buster?’ Polly says.
‘Of course I’m coming!’ he says gruffly. ‘We’re doing this together, aren’t we?’
Polly smiles and pushes past the ghosts to step into the chamber.
An eerie glow lights up the far wall of the chamber and in the hazy purple light Polly sees the cavernous space is crammed with ghosts. Some of them are playing a strange kind of board game with rocks and gems. Others are chatting, and others float around on their own. The ghosts all look up in astonishment as Polly and Buster step into the chamber. They are monster ghosts, mainly, all different shapes and sizes, but Polly spots a couple of ghostly witches and warlocks, too.
Suddenly, Polly realises who the ghosts are. These are the ghosts of the miners who were buried here five years ago! Her heart begins to race. Could it be? Is it possible? Is this what the stones have brought her to find?
‘Polly!’ comes a familiar voice. ‘Is that really you?’
She spins around to where the voice has come from, her heart racing. It couldn’t be, could it? She can hardly bear to think it. ‘Papa?’
But there he is. It is truly him. His kind, sweet face and dark brown eyes are just as she’d remembered them. ‘Papa!’ she cries, and rushes towards his ghostly figure. The other ghosts look on in surprise.
