by Natasha Lowe
“Actually, I had quite a good nap in your sock drawer,” Peter confessed. “Although I did nibble a hole in your green tights, Cat. I’m afraid I couldn’t help myself.”
“I’ll put sleeping bags down in my room, and we can leave Madeline Reynolds where she is,” Poppy said.
It was only as Cat drifted off to sleep on her mother’s bedroom floor, that she wondered how smart a decision this was, leaving Madeline Reynolds alone next door.
Chapter Twenty-Four
* * *
Torrential Flood
CAT WOKE UP TO THE sound of loud opera music playing. She recognized the tune at once. It was from Carmen, Marie Claire’s favorite French opera, by the composer Georges Bizet. Poppy and Peter were still asleep, Poppy sprawled across her bed and Peter’s frizzy black hair poking out of his sleeping bag. Not wanting to disturb them, Cat crept out into the hallway. She put her ear to the door of her bedroom, but there was nothing to hear, and so Cat hurried downstairs. Uncle Tom would arrive soon. He could deal with Madeline Reynolds.
As Cat skipped into the kitchen, she could smell crepes cooking.
“Good morning, chérie,” Marie Claire sang. “It is a beautiful day, is it not? Finally the sun is shining.” She gestured out the window, and Cat saw a family of winter swans floating down the canal. Little sparkles of light glittered on the water. The sky was wide and blue. “I wanted to wash all the sadness out of this bakery. Play my music. Loud!”
“It was wonderful to wake up to,” Cat said, giving Marie Claire a hug. “I’ve missed hearing your music all week. And when Mamma comes down, we have a surprise for you!”
“Oh, I love surprises, especially nice ones!” Marie Claire said. “I couldn’t listen anymore to that man on the radio. He is making us worry about things that might never happen, droning on and on in his miserable voice. I have had enough,” Marie Claire declared, banging a wooden spoon down on the counter.
“That’s just what the postman said,” Cat told her.
“Well, Ted Roberts is a wise man.” Marie Claire breathed deeply and poured batter into a pan. “Even my ankle feels better this morning.”
“And you lit a fire,” Cat said, warming her hands in front of the hearth.
“A fire is the heart of the home. So is the oven. When those stop going, then the home falls apart,” Marie Claire said. “Yesterday was a bad day. But today we can start afresh.” She picked up a spatula and flipped over the crepe. “I cannot bear to see you and your mother fighting, Cat. It breaks my old heart. You have to remember that I’ve known your mother since she was a little girl, and it wasn’t easy for her. She struggled in a way you will never know. What Poppy went through is not anything I would ever wish on another person.” Marie Claire flipped the crepe onto a plate and sprinkled it with lemon and sugar. She rolled it up and handed it to Cat. “Magic almost ruined her life, Cat. You need to remember that. It is why she’s so against it.”
“I know, Marie Claire.” Cat nodded. “I think I’m beginning to understand.”
“Well, that is excellent news!” Marie Claire said in satisfaction. “Now, sit down and eat your crepe. It is not good to eat wandering around like you do.”
By the time Poppy and Peter came downstairs, Cat had devoured six crepes. They tasted much better than usual this morning, even better than her favorite toaster tarts, and Cat was just debating whether or not she should have a seventh when her mother walked over to the radio. “Do you mind if I turn this down, Marie Claire? Just a tiny bit,” Poppy said. “It’s lovely but so loud, and I need to hear the doorbell ring. I’m expecting Uncle Tom any second.” She turned and smiled at Cat. “He couldn’t believe it when I told him what you’d done, Cat. Does Marie Claire know yet?”
“No.” Cat shook her head, feeling embarrassed. She didn’t want a big fuss stirred up because of capturing Madeline Reynolds. That would make her so uncomfortable. She just wanted to get into Ruthersfield. “I was waiting for you and Peter.”
It didn’t matter anyway because Marie Claire wasn’t paying the slightest attention to their conversation. She was standing by the oven, frowning up at the ceiling. “We have a leak, Poppy,” she said, as a steady stream of water dripped down into her crepe pan.
“I think it’s coming from Cat’s room,” Peter announced. “Maybe a pipe burst.”
Water splashed onto the table. “It’s dripping everywhere,” Cat said, as a drop landed on her nose and dribbled into her mouth. “And it’s salty,” she added, with a growing sense of dread. “Like the ocean.”
A steady stream of water was pouring onto the fridge, and Cat looked at her mother in horror. What on earth had they been thinking, leaving Madeline Reynolds alone all night long? Of course, something awful must have happened. Cat’s magic probably hadn’t been strong enough to keep her tied up, and she was, right at this very moment, brewing a huge sea storm in Cat’s room. Without another word, Cat grabbed the magic wand off the table and dashed up the stairs after her mother.
“Shouldn’t you wait for my dad?” Peter called after them. “You don’t want to go in there without backup.”
“Whatever’s going on, I don’t think the Potts Bottom police force could deal with it,” Poppy said.
Cat raced past her mother. “Mamma, this is my mess,” she panted. “Please let me go first.”
“Honestly, Cat! Enough of the heroics.” Poppy grabbed the wand out of Cat’s hand. “Get behind me,” she ordered. “I’m your mother, and you’ll do as I say.”
Cat had no idea what they were about to witness as her mother pushed opened her bedroom door. But nothing could have prepared her for the floods of water that gushed out, torrents and torrents of water, overflowing onto the bed and washing Madeline Reynolds straight toward them. She was still tied up tightly, but tears were coursing down her cheeks. The tape across her mouth had come loose, Cat saw, probably from all her crying. And Cat watched in amazement as Madeline Reynolds opened her mouth wide and started to sing, huskily at first, as if her throat needed oiling, but then with more and more strength. The sound grew richer and sweeter. Cat imagined melted honey being poured down her throat. An expression of stunned surprise shone from the old, wrinkled face. She looked as shocked as Cat and Poppy as she belted out the most beautiful song Cat had ever heard. It was the song still playing on the radio below, the sweet, soaring music of Carmen.
Sunlight poured in through the window, and rainbows danced on the walls as Madeline Reynolds swept past them, not on a wave of seawater, Cat realized, but riding her own salty tears. Tears spilled from the old witch’s eyes, and music poured out of her mouth, as she floated down the cottage stairs. Splashing along behind, Cat and her mother followed Madeline Reynolds straight through to the bakery. Water filled the glass cases and pooled around Cat’s legs. Years and years of locked away sadness finally let loose.
“Mon Dieu,” Marie Claire murmured, coming to stand beside Cat. “Never have I heard such singing.”
“It’s Madeline Reynolds,” Poppy whispered. “Cat caught her last night.” She couldn’t keep the pride from her voice, and Cat slipped her hand into her mother’s.
“Mon Dieu,” Marie Claire murmured again, leaning against Peter. “To think I should ever hear such a thing.” She closed her eyes for a moment, and in the golden light of the bakery her face looked young again.
“This is how angels must sound,” Cat said. She lost track of time as they stood and listened to Madeline Reynolds, singing the purest, sweetest music any of them had ever heard. It made Cat’s insides ache with a longing for something that she couldn’t identify.
When Uncle Tom arrived with five police cars full of officers, they splashed inside the bakery and immediately fell silent, their big boots shuffling to a stop. Mouths hung open and eyes glazed over as they listened to Madeline Reynolds, her voice filled with such heart and soul it brought joy to the toughest policeman. The problem was that as the old witch sang on, her tears kept falling and the water was now up to everyon
e’s knees, not that they seemed to notice or care. When at last Madeline Reynolds fell silent, no one spoke for a while as the echo of her music lingered on.
“Well, I think I understand what has happened,” Poppy said at last, wiping away her own tears. “Madeline Reynolds has found her passion again. Carmen has brought her back from the dark side.”
“It was hearing such beautiful music,” the old witch said, in a voice that hadn’t been used for many years. “The singing was so exquisite.” She sighed a deep, quivery sigh. “I felt like a dam inside me had burst, washing away my anger. All I ever wanted to do was sing.”
Cat felt like she was looking at a different person. All the fury and hatred had gone from Madeline Reynolds’s face, and she stared around with big, fresh eyes as if seeing the world anew.
“Well, I’m afraid that’s not going to be possible,” Uncle Tom said. He cleared the surprise from his throat. “I’ve contacted Boris Regal, head officer at Scrubs, and you will be going back there today.”
“Of course I will,” Madeline Reynolds replied. She hung her head for a moment, her voice quavering. “I can never take back what I did to Italy. That is something I will have to live with always. And I am deeply ashamed of my actions. I shouldn’t be let out of Scrubs Prison,” she said sadly. “But I can sing every day for the rest of my life.” And then with rather more force, Madeline added, “No one can take my music away from me ever again.”
Uncle Tom flipped open a notebook and slid a pen out of his top pocket. “Ms. Reynolds,” he said. “I’m going to need to ask you a few questions for my report. Is it true you broke into Ruthersfield Academy last night?”
“Yes, I did,” Madeline answered with honesty. “I smashed up one of the spell labs.”
“Was there a reason behind your behavior?”
Madeline nodded. “I’ve always hated the academy. My parents forced me to go there, but I couldn’t stand magic. I wanted nothing to do with it.”
“Just like me,” Poppy whispered, and Cat squeezed her mother’s hand.
“I loved to sing, but my parents wouldn’t let me. They banned me from singing, if you can believe that.”
“Oh, I can,” Poppy said in agreement.
“So when I escaped, I wanted to go back to Ruthersfield and smash the place to pieces. Blow it right out to sea. I’ve been dreaming of doing that for years.”
“And this young lady here tied you up?” Uncle Tom said, pointing at Cat with his pencil.
“She did indeed,” Madeline said, and in a beautiful chanting voice, she sang, “That was a really brilliant spell you used!”
“Thanks.” Cat blushed. “I can’t take full credit for it, but thanks.” She looked at Peter’s dad. “Uncle Tom, can we untie her? I don’t think Madeline Reynolds needs to be bound up like that anymore. Surely a pair of handcuffs would do.”
“Oh, it’s actually extremely comfortable,” Madeline Reynolds said. “I feel like I’m being held in a big warm hug. This is the Trapped like a Fly Spell, if I’m correct.”
“That’s right,” Cat said.
“Tantruming toddlers would just love this. It’s like being wrapped up in your favorite blanket.”
“You’ve got an excellent memory for spells,” Cat said.
“Yes, I do.” Madeline Reynolds gave a shaky sigh. “That’s what made me so good. I never forgot a spell or mixed up my ingredients.”
“One more question,” Uncle Tom said, tapping his pencil against his pad. “What exactly did you have against Italy, Ms. Reynolds?”
A deep sadness brushed over the old witch’s face. “I hate to remember that period,” she whispered, her tears starting to flow again. “There was a music conservatory in Naples, run by Leonardo Di Messaverdi, the most wonderful singer of our time.”
“Well, he was before he got washed away,” one of the police officers muttered.
“You see, I’d been sent to study magic with the great Italian witch, Madame Russo. It was a huge honor to study with Madame Russo. My parents told me this over and over again. So did Ms. Norton, who was headmistress of Ruthersfield at the time.” Madeline paused for a moment, looking straight at Cat’s mother. “One day I was walking by the conservatory and I realized that I would never be able to follow my dream, and this sadness swept over me, so deep and profound, that before I knew what I was doing, I brewed an enormous storm and sent the bottom half of Italy out to sea.”
“So you never planned to come back and do away with the top half then?” Uncle Tom asked.
“Good gracious me, no!” Madeline Reynolds sounded shocked. “Did anyone think I would?”
Peter started to laugh, and Uncle Tom clapped his hands. “Right, then, officers. Let’s get this witch loaded up and sent back to Scrubs.”
“Uncle Tom?” Cat beckoned to him, wading through Madeline’s tears and leading Peter’s dad upstairs. “Could you give this to Ms. Roach for me?” Cat handed him the training broom.
Uncle Tom frowned. “You flew on this?”
“I did, and I’m really sorry. I’m sure it breaks a gazillion laws, but I didn’t know what else to do.”
“You did good,” Uncle Tom said gruffly. “I’m very impressed with you, Cat.”
“If you could tell that to Ms. Roach, I’d love it. But I’d really like to keep what happened quiet with the press, if you don’t mind. It would be awful if all these reporters and newscasters started showing up at the bakery. That’s not what I want at all.”
“You captured the most evil witch of the century,” Uncle Tom said. “People are going to want to interview you, Cat.”
“Yes, but wouldn’t it be easier if the Potts Bottom Police Department handled it all? You can tell them whatever you like,” Cat said. “I’m just a kid, Uncle Tom. I really don’t want to be involved in all of this. So long as Ms. Roach knows what I did, I’m happy.”
“Right, then.” Uncle Tom pulled back his shoulders. “As chief of police I shall release a statement saying it was a top secret arrest, and any inquiries are being handled by me.”
“You’re the best, Uncle Tom,” Cat said, grinning. “And try to convince Ms. Roach she shouldn’t get too mad at me for taking a broomstick. I didn’t know what else to do.”
“How was it?” Uncle Tom asked as he splashed his way back downstairs. “Flying on this thing, I mean?” He waved the training broom in the air.
“It was fantastic.” Cat sighed with real passion. “Best experience of my life.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
* * *
If at First You Don’t Succeed . . .
CAT’S GRANDPARENTS HAD INVITED THEMSELVES to tea that afternoon. The bakery was still a little damp from all the water, but Uncle Tom had sent in the fire department and they did an excellent job pumping Madeline Reynolds’s tears into the canal. There was a faint salty tang in the air, which had inspired Poppy to make a salted caramel cake, and she was busy melting butter and sugar together when Granny Edith and Grandpa Roger came bustling into the kitchen.
“Where’s our Cat?” Granny Edith said, holding her arms out wide. Cat, who had been reading all about magic in the Middle Ages, leapt up and gave her grandmother a hug. “We are so proud of you, Catkins,” Granny Edith said. “Not that it surprised either of us, did it, Roger?”
“No.” Grandpa Roger laughed. “You’re strong-headed, just like your mother.” He walked over to the stove. “Whatever you’re making, Poppy, it smells delicious.”
“Wait, how did you know?” Cat said. “I asked Uncle Tom to keep it quiet.”
“Oh, I won’t say a word to anyone, don’t worry.” Edith lowered her voice. “Mrs. Plunket told me. Her son is on the force, so she heard all about it. And of course, being your grandparents, Cat, she thought we should know.”
Cat could hear her mother chuckling at the stove. “You won’t say anything will you?” Cat said. “I don’t want a lot of fuss being made about it.”
Granny Edith looked a touch guilty. “I did mention it
to Maxine, I must admit. But she’s my best friend, and she won’t say a word.”
“Oh, it will be all over the Ribbald Valley in no time!” Poppy said. “Telling Maxine is like telling the world!”
Granny Edith ignored this remark. “Anyway, Catkins, has Ms. Roach been in touch yet?”
“She called at lunchtime,” Poppy said, “requesting an interview with Cat on Wednesday. We’re going up after school.”
“Yes, and Mamma’s coming with me,” Cat said. “Ms. Roach told her she could!”
“Well, about time they changed those silly rules up there,” Grandpa Roger said with a huff. “Our Poppy’s been punished long enough.”
Cat wore her mother’s old Ruthersfield sweater for good luck. It still had a butter stain down the front that wouldn’t wash out, but Cat didn’t care. “You look lovely,” Marie Claire told her, as Cat and her mother left the bakery.
“Yes, you do,” Poppy said, taking her daughter’s hand.
A flock of geese had landed by the canal, honking and pecking at the frozen ground. Cat stopped walking and stared down the path. Then she let go of her mother’s hand and started to run, sending the geese scattering. “Daddy!” Cat screamed, flinging herself onto the man striding toward them. His hair was wild and curly, and he carried an enormous backpack. Swooping Cat up in his strong arms, he swung her around.
“You’re just in time for my interview,” Cat squealed.
“Tristram!” Poppy cried out, running over to her husband. Keeping a hold on Cat, Tristram swept Poppy up in his arms as well. “My two favorite girls in the world!”
“I missed you so much,” Cat said, and sighed, feeling his scratchy beard rub against her face. He smelled of high adventures, but neither Cat nor her mother minded. “Did you find the healing plant?” Cat asked.
