by Natasha Lowe
“It is a little bit shocking,” Marie Claire said, keeping her voice calm. “Because such a thing has never happened before.”
Cat spoke through her hands. “A little bit shocking! She washed away the whole bottom half of Italy.”
“Mon Dieu, Cat!” Marie Claire said. “Let’s not go stirring up the past. That happened a long time ago. She was caught right away and put straight into Scrubs, and I’m sure she’ll be back there again very soon.”
“I can’t believe this!” Cat said, knowing she sounded hysterical. “My worst nightmare has come true.”
Poppy stared at the newspaper. “I always thought Madeline Reynolds was sad.”
“Sad? She was evil, Mamma.”
“No, not ‘I’ve had a bad day’ kind of sadness. I mean deeply, painfully sad. The sort of sad that breaks your heart in two and makes you do awful things.”
“You sound as if you know her,” Cat said. Her mother was making her uncomfortable.
“In a strange way I’ve always felt like I do,” Poppy confessed. “Like we had some kind of connection.”
“That is not something I want to hear about, Mamma. I’ll start having Madeline Reynolds nightmares again.”
“I remember studying her for my biography project. She really loved music. She was this amazing spell chanter,” Poppy said, tapping the photograph of the little girl. “Doesn’t she look sad to you?”
Cat glanced at the photograph. There was definitely a wistfulness in the little girl’s eyes, even though she was smiling.
“I always thought,” Poppy added, “that she didn’t want to be a witch. That her parents forced her to go to Ruthersfield, like me.”
“Even if that’s true, it doesn’t give her the right to wash away half of Italy,” Cat said, wondering how her mother could feel anything but revulsion for this awful creature. “And I don’t believe being sad could make someone do something that dreadful,” Cat said. “That’s just an excuse. She’s evil.”
Poppy stood abruptly and walked over to the sink. She leaned against it, staring out the window. “Turn the radio up,” she said. “I want to listen.”
Cat hurried over and twisted the volume on the large red radio that sat on the shelf next to the flour.
“And now,” the broadcaster said, “we go direct to Scrubs Prison to hear from Jeremy Finkle, the guard responsible for Madeline Reynolds’s escape.”
Marie Claire folded the newspaper up and tucked it under the teapot. Poppy gripped the edge of the sink hard, and Cat stood still, chewing the inside of her lip.
“I’d just taken Madeline her dinner, as usual,” Jeremy Finkle said, choking down a sob. “Porridge and grapefruit like she always gets.” He paused for a moment, the radio falling silent.
“And then what happened?” the interviewer asked.
“Well, I wasn’t wearing my protective glasses,” Jeremy Finkle said. “We all have to wear them so we don’t look the witches in the eye, you see. They are so full of evil, those witches, and Madeline in particular. Just terrifying.” Cat was certain she could hear Jeremy Finkle swallow. “But yesterday evening, well, I couldn’t find my glasses and I figured, I’ve done this a thousand times. I know what I’m doing. I just wouldn’t look at her.” There was another long silence on the radio.
“And what happened then?” the interviewer prodded.
“I couldn’t help myself. She called my name. And before I knew what I was doing, I’d looked right at her. Right into those vile, terrifying eyes.” Jeremy Finkle sounded like he was crying. “Somehow she managed to hypnotize me, put me under some sort of spell. I remember this voice in my head, telling me to open the door of her cage. And I did it,” Jeremy sobbed. “I let her go. She jumped onto one of the work brooms that we clean the sheds out with and took off, just like that.”
“And now a few words from Boris Regal,” the interviewer said solemnly. “Head guard at Scrubs Prison.”
“She does not have a wand with her, let me make that quite clear,” an official-sounding voice said. “Or a proper broomstick. As head guard of Scrubs Prison, I want to assure people not to panic. Well, don’t panic too much just yet. Madeline Reynolds is an extremely old witch. We are not underplaying the danger she presents, but she hasn’t practiced magic in sixty-five years, although magic was clearly involved in her escape,” he admitted. “This matter is being looked into thoroughly, and we feel quite sure she will be captured and brought back to Scrubs very soon.”
“Is it true that the top part of Italy has already been evacuated?” the interviewer asked.
“There does seem to be reason to believe that this is where Madeline Reynolds is likely to head, so an evacuation is under way.”
“Turn that off, Cat,” Marie Claire gasped. “I’ve heard quite enough.”
“Me too,” Cat said, wondering what her mother was thinking. Poppy hadn’t moved from the sink.
“You should get to school,” Marie Claire said. “Sitting here worrying won’t help matters.”
“Mamma, are you okay?” Cat asked, wishing her mother would turn around.
“Go on now, hurry,” Marie Claire said, making shooing motions with her hands. “You are already going to be late.”
News of Madeline Reynolds’s escape was all over Potts Bottom Elementary by the time Cat got there. She could hear kids whispering about it in class. Cat noticed a number of them giving her funny looks, glancing over quickly and away again, as if she had something to do with it. Concentrating in math was impossible, but when Cat tried to send Peter a note, Ms. Finley, their teacher, crumpled it up and tossed it into the bin before Peter had even read it. Cat had to wait until recess before they could talk.
“That’s what the emergency was last night,” Peter told her as they stood in the corridor. “All the police stations were informed, and since Ruthersfield is in Potts Bottom and Madeline Reynolds went to school here, my dad’s been getting lots of calls.”
“I feel sick to my stomach,” Cat said. “I wish you hadn’t told me that.” She could see Anika and Karen walking toward them. They had their arms linked, and Karen pulled Anika over to the other side of her as they passed by Peter and Cat.
“Her mum used to be just like Madeline Reynolds,” Karen whispered loudly.
“You know nothing about my mother,” Cat said.
Anika gave Cat a shy smile and tried to pull away from Karen as if she didn’t really agree with her.
“I know she runs the bakery and seems as nice as pie,” Karen said. “But I still can’t believe she went over to the dark side when she was our age.”
“Are you talking about Madeline Reynolds?” Emily Willis said, running up to Karen and Anika. She pushed in between them. “Aren’t you pleased you don’t live in Italy? You know Madeline Reynolds is going to go back there and wash the rest of the country away.”
“How do you know that?” Peter asked, rubbing his glasses clean on his shirt.
“Well, that’s what everyone says,” Emily whispered. “But I’m not at all worried. Nor are my parents. The guards will catch her.”
“Come on,” Peter said, pulling Cat down the corridor. “Those girls are so stupid. They don’t know what they’re talking about.”
“But the guards will catch her, right?” Cat said, needing to feel reassured. “No wand or broomstick. How dangerous can she be?”
“Look, my dad is really concerned,” Peter whispered. “I mean, think about it, Cat. She managed to escape from Scrubs Prison, and no one escapes from Scrubs, do they?”
“Peter, stop it!” Cat covered her ears.
“I thought you were over Madeline Reynolds.”
“Well, I lied.”
“Wow, you do need to work on your fears!” Peter said. He handed Cat a little Tupperware box. “As you requested! One giant hairy spider that I found in the basement this morning.”
Cat could see the spider through the clear plastic container. It looked about the size of a grape, with fat bent legs covered in f
ur. She shoved it back at Peter with a muffled cry. “I cannot have that in my backpack all day.”
“It’s not going to hurt you, Cat,” Peter said with a grin.
“No!”
“But you asked me to find you one. I even put in a couple of tiny insect things for it to eat.”
“I’ll collect it after school,” Cat said, thinking that conquering this fear of spiders was not going to be as easy as she’d thought. Something tickled the back of her neck and Cat screamed. She reached behind her and slapped Peter’s hand away. “That’s not funny, Peter,” Cat fumed as he cracked up laughing. “Not funny at all!”
Chapter Fourteen
* * *
Panic in Potts Bottom
MR. ABBOTT, THE HEADMASTER OF Potts Bottom Elementary, had gathered the whole school together so he could talk to them before dismissal that afternoon.
“Now, I know you have heard the news,” Mr. Abbott said, standing on a table at the front of the room. He was a little man and wanted to make sure everyone could see him. “But there is no need to panic.” He kept dabbing at his sweaty face with a handkerchief, and Cat thought he looked utterly terrified. “This matter will be taken care of by the guards at Scrubs Prison. They are trained to deal with witches from the dark side, and I have no doubt they will handle this in a swift and timely manner. So no one is to worry.” Mr. Abbott bared his teeth at them. It was meant to be a smile, Cat realized, but he looked more like one of Auntie Charlie’s snaggletoothed goats. The look was not reassuring.
Cat waited for Peter in the school yard. “All right, I’m ready for the spider,” she said as he came striding over. Peter tucked the container into the side pocket of Cat’s backpack, and she gave a little shudder. “It better not escape.”
“That would be funny! Come on. I’ll walk with you some of the way.”
“Can we swap backpacks?”
“Nope!” Peter shook his head. “You have to be brave, Cat, remember.”
Most days after school Cat loved stopping in front of Ruthersfield so she could watch all the girls taking off on their broomsticks. Usually there were a lot of shrieks and giggles as the students swooped into the air. The more advanced girls liked showing off with elegant turns and dives, while the beginners wobbled about on their broomsticks, making shaky trails across the sky. Today though, it was as if someone had put a silencing spell on the academy. There was no chattering or laughter as the girls spilled out of the building. Those who were flying took off quietly into the air, while the walkers headed home with solemn expressions on their faces. Ms. Roach, the headmistress, talked to a group of worried parents, probably trying to calm their fears, Cat guessed. All the teachers looked grave, even Clara Bell, but when she saw Cat she gave her a small, encouraging wave. Two students stood near Cat and Peter on the curb, waiting to be picked up. They had their hats balanced on their bags and were staring at the cars driving past, searching for their ride.
“Hats on, please,” a teacher barked out, marching past in her long purple gown. “Good impressions are essential right now.” The girls picked up their pointed hats, gave them a shake to get out the creases, and shoved them onto their heads.
“It’s so unfair,” one of the girls said, after the teacher had gone by. “Just because Madeline Reynolds went to school here, people think Ruthersfield must be to blame. As if we’ll all turn out evil.”
“My mum says it’s witches like her that give the rest of us a bad name,” her friend said.
“I know,” the first girl grumbled, tucking in her shirt. “So we’ve all got to be on our best behavior. Especially since Ms. Roach says there are going to be reporters everywhere, getting the backstory on evil old Reynolds.”
“Cat, come on.” Peter started to walk away. “I feel weird standing here, listening in on their conversations. We’ll probably get arrested for loitering.”
Cat reluctantly followed Peter down the street, touching a hand to her head and wondering how it would feel to wear a witch’s hat. They walked in silence for a while, each caught up in their own thoughts.
“You know, Mamma did a biography project on Madeline Reynolds when she was at school,” Cat said at last. “All about how she loved music and singing. Apparently she was a fantastic spell chanter.”
“I wonder why your mum would have picked her,” Peter said.
Cat suddenly felt too hot inside her jacket, even though there was a bitter wind blowing. She unzipped her anorak, looking away from Peter. It made her so uneasy, thinking that her mother and Madeline Reynolds had anything in common. “Mamma said Madeline Reynolds reminded her of herself,” Cat confessed. “She believes she was terribly sad.”
“Wow!” Peter tried to catch Cat’s eye, but she refused to look at him.
“Mamma thinks Madeline Reynolds didn’t want to be a witch,” Cat continued. “Just like she didn’t want to be one.”
“And that’s what sent her over to the dark side?”
“Who knows?” Cat shrugged, shoving her hands in her pockets. She finally met Peter’s gaze. “Not that any of that matters now, does it? The point is she’s the worst storm brewer in history, and she’s flying around out there somewhere.” A sheet of newspaper went fluttering across the road, and Cat shivered, zipping her jacket back up again.
As she walked down the canal path toward the bakery, Cat could see the door opening and closing, spilling people and light out into the chilly afternoon. The scent of vanilla and chocolate perfumed the air, and Cat knew Marie Claire had made her famous chocolate butter bread. She usually made it only on Wednesdays, which, Marie Claire said, was a day when bad things seemed to happen and people often needed cheering up. But she was clearly making an exception by baking it a day early. After all, you couldn’t get much worse than Madeline Reynolds escaping from Scrubs, Cat decided. The windows of the bakery were all fogged up, but Cat could still see how crowded it was inside. It seemed like everyone in Potts Bottom was in need of some comfort eating, and Poppy and Marie Claire were boxing up cakes and macaroons as fast as they could manage. Cat had a hard time opening the door and jostling her way through the crowd. Seeing that poor Marie Claire looked exhausted, Cat threw down her backpack and put on an apron. “You go and sit,” she said at once. “I’ll take over.”
“You are a good girl, chérie.” Marie Claire hobbled over to the kitchen door, and Cat noticed how swollen her ankle looked.
“Put your feet up, Marie Claire. When it calms down here, I’ll make you a cup of tea.”
“I said a loaf of chocolate butter bread and ten cupcakes, please,” Mrs. Mitchell shouted at Cat. Mrs. Mitchell was the town librarian and never raised her voice, so this was most unlike her. Cat could feel the anxiety hovering over the villagers.
“It’s been like this all day,” Poppy whispered, wrapping ribbon around a box of lemon tarts. “Everyone is nervous.”
Maxine Gibbons was huddled in a corner of the shop, talking to Mrs. Plunket. She had a loaf of bread clutched in her arms but clearly wasn’t ready to leave.
“I mean, it’s bringing back all sorts of memories,” Maxine said, not even bothering to keep her voice down. Cat had never understood why her grandmother spent so much time at Maxine’s house. Glancing at the counter, Maxine nodded at Cat and then turned right back to Mrs. Plunket. Lowering her voice a bit, but still speaking loud enough for Cat to hear, she went on, “Honestly, I’m far too nervous to sleep tonight. I’ll never forget when Poppy went over to the dark side. Just like Madeline Reynolds, she was.”
“Can I get you anything else, Mrs. Gibbons?” Cat called out sweetly. “We’re awfully crowded in here, so if you’ve finished your shopping, do you mind making room for other people?”
Poppy gave her daughter a grateful smile as Maxine stalked out of the shop. “She’s been in here for almost an hour,” Poppy murmured.
“Well, it’s about time she left then, isn’t it?” Cat replied, suddenly feeling protective toward her mother. It was okay for Cat to be mad at h
er, but it was not okay for Maxine Gibbons to say mean things.
By the time the bakery closed, there was nothing left on the shelves except for a few raspberry shortbread cookies. Cat swept the floor and wiped down the counters, while Poppy locked the front door and emptied the cash register. “Thank you so much for all your help, Cat,” Poppy said. “I couldn’t have managed without you this afternoon.”
“Are you okay, Mamma?” Cat asked. Her mother’s face was pale as cake flour, and she had lines etched across her forehead.
“It’s bringing back memories for me, as well,” Poppy said. “Not just for nosy old Maxine.” She tucked a strand of loose hair back into her braid and forced herself to smile. “Anyway, I don’t need to be thinking about the past, do I? If tomorrow is anything like today, I’ll have to get started on my bread doughs. I’ve never seen the bakery this busy.” She kissed Cat on the forehead as she walked past, an impulsive kiss that made Cat suddenly brave.
“Mamma?” Poppy stopped and turned around. “Could you just watch me practice some spell breathing exercises?” Cat said. “Tell me if I’m doing them right. It’s meant to be a good way to help with control.”
“Cat, please.” Poppy held up her hand. “I can’t deal with this right now. Honestly, how can you even think about magic with Madeline Reynolds on the loose?”
“Because I love it.” Cat gripped the broom hard. “And I would never end up on the dark side, Mamma. You know that.”
Poppy opened the door behind the counter that led to the rest of the cottage. “Well, thank goodness you won’t get the chance to find out,” she said. “Now no more talk of Ruthersfield, okay?”
Letting the broom clatter to the floor, Cat ran upstairs to her room.
