by Natasha Lowe
Cat’s mother didn’t answer. She was staring at Cat in disbelief. Disbelief that was rapidly changing to horror. “Where did you get that?” Poppy croaked, noticing the wand in Cat’s hand.
“I . . . I found it yesterday in Gran and Grandpa’s attic,” Cat whispered. “That’s when I realized I’d got the gene. I wanted to tell you, but I know how you feel about magic and I was scared you might be mad.” Cat’s face flushed with heat.
Maxine gave Mrs. Plunket a knowing look. “I can’t wait to tell her grandparents about this! Oh, my goodness, I just can’t!”
“But . . . but . . .” Poppy shook her head. “You’re eleven years old, Cat. That’s far too late for magic to show up. I was only a baby,” she whispered, covering her face with her hands. “This cannot be happening.”
“Oh, it most definitely is happening,” Maxine said firmly.
“Mamma, Ruthersfield Academy has a special entrance exam for Late Bloomers,” Cat rushed on, deciding that she might as well get this over with now. “I’ve been reading all about it, and I really, really want to try out for a place.” Her mother didn’t answer.
“It’s not as fancy as the seven-plus examination,” Maxine whispered to Mrs. Plunket in her not so quiet voice. Seven was the age most girls started attending Ruthersfield Academy. “Not that they’d take Cat anyway,” she continued. “Not after what happened.”
“Mamma?” Cat said. Her mother’s lip had started to tremble, and Cat suddenly felt nervous. The shop had gone silent again, but none of the customers were leaving.
“No.” Poppy shook her head, twisting the dishcloth round her hands. “No,” she said again. “You cannot try out for Ruthersfield.”
Cat’s mouth went dry. “Mamma, how can you say that? This is my dream. You know I’ve always longed to be magic.” She stared at her mother. “And I’m happy,” Cat said. “I’ve never been so happy. You told me this morning that’s what mattered. I could do whatever I wanted with my life as long as it made me happy.”
“But not magic,” Poppy whispered. “You know I didn’t mean magic.”
“But why?” Cat said in frustration. “Why do you hate magic so much? You never talk about it, Mamma.” She took a deep, shaky breath. “You chose not to be a witch. Isn’t that why you dropped out of Ruthersfield? You liked making cakes instead of magic?”
“It’s not that simple, Cat.” Poppy shook her head again. “You don’t understand. And the answer’s still no.”
“Please,” Cat said, turning to Marie Claire. “Tell her, Marie Claire. It’s my choice.”
“I do think Cat has a point,” Marie Claire said quietly.
“I don’t want to talk about this now,” Poppy said, glancing at her customers. “There are people here waiting to buy things.”
“I think it’s about time Poppy told Cat the truth,” Maxine murmured to Mrs. Plunket. “We’ve all held our tongues for too long.”
“What truth?” Cat looked from Maxine to her mother. “What does she mean, Mamma?”
“Maxine Gibbons, this is not your business,” Poppy snapped, her face drained of color. She sniffed the air. “I smell gingerbread burning.” And without meeting Cat’s gaze, she hurried through to the kitchen.
“What is it?” Cat said, turning to Maxine.
Maxine moistened her lips, and Mrs. Plunket put a hand on her arm. “Best not to say anything, Maxine.”
“Please don’t,” Marie Claire said rather fiercely, and all the customers murmured their agreement.
Maxine’s cheeks puffed. Her lips quivered and her nose twitched. She looked as if she were about to explode. “Your mother didn’t drop out of Ruthersfield,” she burst out. “Poppy was expelled. Expelled for doing something so dreadful it still makes my blood run cold when I think about it.” Maxine’s words gathered speed like a snowball rolling down a hill. “She turned her own parents to stone. Left them standing outside in the cold for years.” Maxine rolled her eyes skyward. “Poor Edith and Roger! Can’t imagine what that must have been like for them. And it wasn’t just her parents either. Your mother went around town turning everything to stone. Animals, birds, policemen. Poppy was crazed, out of control. None of us were safe in our beds. We were all so petrified. I didn’t sleep a wink for nights on end. Ohh, it was terrifying.” Maxine’s eyes gleamed with the sheer delight of telling. “I’ve always thought it was wrong to keep that from you,” she added.
Cat stared at Maxine, a sick, clamminess creeping over her.
“Great job, Maxine!” Ted Roberts, the postman, remarked, giving Cat a sympathetic look. “I’m sure Poppy would be proud of the way you handled that.”
“Well!” Maxine fiddled with the collar of her coat. “Cat was going to find out sooner or later.”
“And how lovely it came from you!” Ted Roberts said sharply. “You take everything that woman says with a grain of salt, Cat. This town adores your mother. And none of us are perfect, are we? We’ve all done things we’re ashamed of.”
“Indeed we have,” Marie Claire said, giving Maxine a pointed look. “Now, isn’t it time for you to be on your way, Maxine Gibbons?”
“Well,” Maxine said with a sniff. “If that’s all the thanks I get for being honest . . .” And she marched toward the door.
“Wait!” Cat called after her, suddenly finding her voice. “I don’t believe a word of it, Maxine. My mother’s a wonderful person. She would never do any of those things.” As Maxine banged the door shut behind her, Cat shouted out, “You’re a horrible old bat.”
“Honestly,” Marie Claire grumbled, wrapping an arm around Cat’s waist. “If I had the strength, I’d push that woman into the canal.”
“We’d all help,” Ted Roberts agreed.
“She’s nothing but an old gossip,” Marie Claire said. “Your mother doesn’t have an evil bone in her body.”
“So it’s not true, then?” Cat questioned. “About Mamma turning my grandparents to stone?”
Throwing Cat looks of support, the villagers filed out of the shop. When the last customer had gone, Marie Claire sighed and said, “It all happened a long time ago.”
“Oh, my gosh!” Cat put a hand over her mouth. She thought she might be sick. “I don’t believe it! How could she do that?” And all of a sudden, the person Cat thought she knew better than anyone else in the world wasn’t the same person at all. “I always knew Mamma didn’t want me to get the magic gene. And now I know why.”
“Will you calm down and listen, Cat Campbell? Poppy didn’t suddenly go crazy. Things had been building for a long time. Your mother hated magic. Really hated it. Baking was her passion, even then. She was miserable at Ruthersfield, but your grandparents forced her to stay there. And they refused to let her bake.”
“That doesn’t sound at all like Granny and Grandpa,” Cat said. “They’re so proud of Mamma for winning all her Young Baker of the Year awards.”
“They are now. Things were different back then,” Marie Claire explained soberly. “Your mother kept trying to tell them how sad she was, but they wouldn’t listen to her.”
“So she turned them to stone?”
“Not on purpose, of course.” Marie Claire sounded so calm and matter-of-fact. “Her emotions got out of hand and so did her magic. It really wasn’t Poppy’s fault.”
Cat was silent for a long moment, her own feelings a tangled mess. “I just can’t believe it,” she said at last. “It seems so unlike Mamma. I wish Maxine had never told me.” And then rather more glumly, Cat said, “She’s never going to let me try out for Ruthersfield, is she? Not with a past like that.”
Chapter Seven
* * *
No Means No
WANTING TO BE ALONE, CAT hurried upstairs to her room. For the first time in her life the bakery did not smell comforting, and Cat breathed in the stench of burnt gingerbread, feeling smothered by its scorched sugar tang. Lying down on her bed, she pressed her face into a pillow, wishing the things she had just heard were not true. A flurry of
emotions swirled through her, and she ached for the solid, comforting presence of her dad. Cat had never felt so alone in her life. It all made sense now, why her mother hated magic so much.
“Cat?” Poppy knocked on Cat’s bedroom door. “Can I come in?”
Cat lifted her head up as her mother opened the door a crack. “I brought you some fresh gingerbread. The last lot wasn’t even fit for the birds.”
“Mamma, why didn’t you tell me?” Cat burst out, feeling light-headed and dizzy. “I can’t believe I had to hear it from Maxine.”
“Oh, Cat, I’m so sorry,” Poppy said. She walked into the room and put a plate of warm gingerbread and a glass of milk down on Cat’s nightstand. Sitting beside her, Poppy leaned over and gave Cat a long hug.
“You should have told me, Mamma,” Cat murmured.
Poppy sighed. “It’s not an easy thing to talk about, especially since you’ve always loved magic so much. I was worried you wouldn’t understand. And you have such a special relationship with your grandparents, Cat. I didn’t want to ruin that. Besides,” Poppy added, “I was ashamed of what I’d done, and I was scared you’d think badly of me. Sometimes sadness and anger can make a person do terrible things.”
“Why did Granny and Grandpa care so much about magic?” Cat asked her.
“It meant everything to them, the fact that I’d got the gift like Great-Granny Mabel.” Poppy sighed again. “And then when I didn’t want to do magic, well, they just couldn’t accept it. I was such a disappointment to them.”
“Oh, Mamma.” Cat clambered onto her mother’s knee. She was so tall now, her feet touched the floor, but Cat didn’t care. She loved the warmth her mother gave off, as if she had just stepped out of the oven, and the way her long dark braid always smelled of cake batter. “It’s okay,” Cat said, staring out the window. After a moment she asked, “Why didn’t you get sent to Scrubs Prison? Isn’t that where evil witches go? How come it ended up all right?”
“Because of Auntie Charlie and Marie Claire,” Poppy said. “You know Marie Claire has always been like a second mother to me, and I couldn’t wish for a better friend than Charlie.” She gave a fond smile. “They helped bring me back from the dark side. I had lost my passion for baking, you see. Without it I was bitter and sad. But as soon as I stopped being angry and starting baking, all the things I had turned to stone changed back again.” Poppy paused for a moment. “It took your grandparents a little longer than everyone else to turn back. I think they weren’t ready to accept me for who I was, but once they came around, the spell wore off, and they’ve been great ever since. Well, your grandmother still drives me up the wall sometimes, but no more than anyone else’s mother.”
“Does Dad know?”
“He does,” Poppy said. “We have no secrets from each other. Anyway, it all happened a long time ago, and I don’t like thinking about it. Which is why this has taken me off guard, Cat.” Poppy’s voice grew serious. “I wasn’t expecting you to get the gift, not after eleven years.”
“Nor was I,” Cat agreed. “But I’m so happy, Mamma; you’ve no idea!”
“So what happened,” Poppy asked, “in the attic?”
Cat sensed her mother didn’t really want to hear, and as Cat told her about the spider changing color, she could feel her mother’s body stiffen.
“You should have told me yesterday, Cat. Honestly, I can’t believe your grandparents let you take my old wand! What were they thinking?”
“Mamma, don’t blame Gran and Grandpa. It wasn’t their fault. They didn’t know I took it,” Cat said.
“Well, they’ll know soon enough from Maxine.”
“I wasn’t trying to hide it from you, either,” Cat explained. “I just didn’t want to make you mad. Plus,” Cat admitted, “I was scared of telling you because I thought you might not let me apply to Ruthersfield.”
Poppy shuddered. “I can’t imagine having anything to do with Ruthersfield Academy ever again.” The force of her words shocked Cat, and she slid off her mother’s knee.
A knocking sound came from inside Cat’s cupboard, and Poppy started, turning to look. “Cat!” she gasped loudly, suddenly noticing the wall behind her. “ ‘Flipping fish cakes!’ ” she read. “What on earth?” Poppy stood up. “I can’t believe you did this. Why in heavens would you write on the walls?”
“It wasn’t me,” Cat tried to explain, hoping her mother wouldn’t look up, because “Mamma is going to have a fit” was still scrawled across the ceiling in loopy purple script.
“Then who exactly was it, Cat? Because I will be calling his parents right now.”
“No, Mamma, you don’t understand,” Cat said, sensing this wasn’t going to end well. “I tried to make my pen write on its own last night, and it got a bit carried away.”
“You’ve been practicing magic up here?” Poppy put her hands on her hips and tossed her braid over her shoulder. “Seriously, Cat, I don’t believe this.”
“I’m really sorry. It’s washable ink. I’ll clean it up, I promise.”
“And what’s in the cupboard?” Poppy said, as another muffled thud came from inside.
“Clothes, Mamma, that’s all.”
“Really!” Poppy looked like she didn’t believe a word of it. “Let’s see, shall we?” And marching over, she flung open the cupboard door. Cat’s white winter jacket flapped out, waving its arms about and flopping across the floor like a giant puffy ray. It was considerably calmer than the last time Cat saw it, and she gave a sigh of relief.
“You should have seen my jacket yesterday, Mamma. It was really out of control.”
“This whole thing is out of control,” Poppy said, holding out her hand. “You have no idea what you’re doing, Cat. I need you to give me the wand.”
“Mamma, no! Please, please, please don’t take my wand.”
“Magic isn’t a game, Cat. Now give me the wand before someone gets hurt.”
“But will you let me try out for Ruthersfield?” Cat pleaded. “I know I can get better if I practice and take lessons.”
“Cat, I’m sorry. This affects the whole family. The answer’s still no.” Poppy stepped toward her daughter and gently took the wand from Cat’s hand. “I know this seems tough to you right now, but one day you’ll understand.” She shoved the wand in her apron pocket as if she couldn’t bear to touch it, and her voice grew tight. “I will not have magic in this house.”
“You’re taking away my dream, Mamma.”
“Oh, Cat,” Poppy murmured, opening her arms wide. But Cat stepped away. She didn’t feel like being hugged right now.
Chapter Eight
* * *
Peter Helps Out
CAT HAD HOPED HER MOTHER might have reconsidered overnight, but she knew as soon as she entered the kitchen the next morning that nothing had changed. Le Nozze di Figaro, one of Marie Claire’s favorite operas, was playing loudly, while Poppy stood over a tray of cupcakes, piping swirls of creamy frosting on top. Her body looked stiff, as if she was holding herself tight, and she worked with a fierce intensity. Marie Claire sat at the table with her chin in her hands, staring out the window, and Cat got the feeling they had been discussing her. She helped herself to a bowl of cereal, ignoring the fresh muffins and croissants, and sat down beside Marie Claire.
“I’m sorry,” Marie Claire murmured. She patted Cat’s hand and whispered, “Give your mother time, Cat. This is hard for her. It is bringing back memories she would rather forget.”
As soon as Cat got on the bus, she could tell that most of the kids already knew what had happened in the bakery the day before. They were whispering and pointing as she walked down the aisle, and Cat was surprised to see Anika sitting next to Karen Miller. Anika always saved the seat beside her for Cat.
“I’m sorry,” Anika said, fiddling with a strap on her backpack. “My mum’s a bit worried about me, you know, getting too close to you at the moment.”
“Why?” Cat said, hovering in the aisle.
&nbs
p; “Sit down,” the bus driver shouted, and Cat took the empty seat opposite.
“Why?” she said again, leaning over toward Anika.
“Because you’ve got the magic gene,” Karen Miller announced. “Maxine Gibbons told my mum.”
“I’ll bet she told everyone’s mum,” Cat muttered.
“It’s just that my parents are a little afraid,” Anika said. “They think because you attacked Maxine with a flying éclair, you might do something to us.”
“But I didn’t attack her,” Cat said. “Well, not on purpose. I was just trying to move the éclair with my wand, you see, and the spell went a bit out of control.”
“I think that’s why they’re worried,” Anika explained. “My dad started going on about Madeline Reynolds, and how out of control she was and how nobody saw it coming. And Maxine told us all about the stuff your mum did when she was at Ruthersfield, and well, they’re concerned that . . .” Anika trailed off, staring at her backpack.
“Both of our mums are worried you might flip out and turn us to stone or something,” Karen finished for her.
“You know I would never do that,” Cat said. Her throat had gone tight, and she pulled a tissue out of her pocket and blew her nose hard, not wanting to cry on the bus.
“I know you wouldn’t,” Anika agreed, looking uncomfortable. “It’s just best we don’t sit together for a few days, that’s all. My mum will come round.”
Cat nodded and stared out the window, shutting her eyes as they drove past Ruthersfield. She couldn’t bear to look at the academy this morning. The seat creaked and Cat felt someone sit down beside her. She turned to see Peter squeezing his long, cricketlike legs into the narrow space between them. Occasionally, like right now, the sight of Peter Parker was as comforting as a pair of flannel pajamas.
“Why did you move?” Cat said, shifting over.
Peter shrugged. “Just felt like it.”
“Well, thanks. That was nice.”
