S.N.O.T.

by Nichol Williams

  At the mention of lessons, Cordelia had bitten her lip. Always one for being the model of behaviour, a feeling of guilt swept over her.

  ‘I wonder if they’ve already informed our parents that we’ve disappeared?’ she commented in a worried tone.

  ‘I expect so,’ Chester said indifferently.

  ‘So we not only have the Gnome Mafia after us but the Sorcery Police will be looking for us,’ she added. ‘Things can’t get any worse.’

  That was something they all thought, but when everything seems bleak it always turns out that things definitely can get worse, a lot worse.

  Something that had been bugging Monty since Alex had turned up with the letter slipped to the forefront of his mind.

  ‘There are two things about this whole situation that I can’t fathom,’ he began. It drew everyone’s attention. ‘Why did the Ogres pick your mum and dad in the first place? It’s not like they’re extremely high profile or anything.’

  ‘I always think it’s a mistake to try to work out how an Ogre thinks,’ said Chester.

  ‘Yes, but that aside,’ Monty carried on, ‘why would a Dark Elf be helping them. They don’t do anything for anyone unless there’s something in it for them and, unless something drastic has happened over the past three days, Dark Elves and Ogres never mix. In fact Dark Elves never mix with anyone.’

  These were two points that Jebediah had not considered. He had become too wrapped up in how to find the ransom money and get his parents back to think about anything else, but Monty was right. Why would a Dark Elf, who everyone knew was the mortal enemy of anything and everything, help Ogres? It didn’t make sense. Pondering these thoughts the others continued to discuss them.

  ‘Have your mum or dad ever done anything to upset the Ogres or Dark Elves?’ Chester asked.

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ Cordelia cut in. ‘His mum may write things that are a bit caustic but never anything…’ She paused for a moment. ‘Well, maybe there was that time when she told that Witch that with a face like hers she didn’t blame her husband for hiring her out on Halloween to scare people. Of course there was that other time when…’ Shaking her head she changed track. ‘None of that matters now though. The point is that she hasn’t ever written something that would prompt anything like this.’

  Chester started laughing at something he remembered. ‘Hey, did you read that one a few weeks ago?’ Trying to control his sniggers he continued between snorts, ‘The one where that Witch had written in saying she thought her husband was being unfaithful and your mum told her to put some truth potion in a pie preferably made from dog food.’

  A ripple of laughter went round the table. His mum’s agony column was well known in the witching community and everyone read it avidly.

  Jebediah sat and listened to the way in which his mum was being described and felt the need, or perhaps it was the desire, to defend her. He might know that the things that people were saying about her were true, but somehow hearing them out loud hurt deep inside. She was his mum.

  ‘She’s really nice deep down,’ he said quietly.

  The conversation halted abruptly and everyone stared at him.

  ‘Well she can be,’ he continued lamely as everyone sat open mouthed, unsure whether they had heard him correctly.

  It was Alex’s turn to say something. After all, he knew Jebediah and his parents better than anyone else seated around the table. He may not be a Wizard but he considered himself a best friend.

  ‘Listen you lot, if any of you had grown up with a mum like his nan you’d be bitter - either that or you’d spend the rest of your life in therapy. Besides, she may be a little short and to the point but I’ve met worse and you wouldn’t like it if people started criticising your mum or dad.’

  It wasn’t the speech that Jebediah had hoped for but a warm glow spread through his body and at this very moment he had never been so grateful to his friend.

  Cordelia, who had sensed that the comments had hurt Jebediah, changed the subject as soon as she could.

  ‘Why don’t we all go and watch television or something?’

  ‘Sounds good to me,’ Monty said, swinging his legs out from under the table and heading off into the lounge.

  Cordelia hung back to talk to Jebediah, who had remained seated at the table. ‘Jeb…’ she began and then paused, trying to find the right words. ‘I don’t think anyone wanted to hurt your feelings back there. They just didn’t think. You must admit that if she was someone else’s mum you’d probably be the same.’ As she spoke she kept her eyes averted, her hands suddenly becoming interesting.

  Jebediah, who had stood up, dropped back down into the chair and, slumping forward, put his head in his hands.

  ‘It’s not what they said that hurt; more that what they said was true,’ he replied morosely.

  ‘Oh no it isn’t!’ Cordelia cried, and immediately flung her arms around his body, pulling him into a crushing embrace.

  She was suffocating him but he didn’t mind. Nothing Cordelia did could ever be wrong in his eyes. She smelled sweet like summer flowers and her skin was as soft as a delicate peach. This was the closest he had ever been to a girl without actually being slapped or called a freak and so he savoured every moment.

  As she pulled away he said glumly, ‘You know, when I was born my mum took one look at me and said to my dad that it didn’t matter because I could always have plastic spellwork done when I was older.’

  This sob story had the desired effect and Cordelia cooed, ‘Aaaahhh’ and pulled him close again.

  This is good he thought to himself and made a mental note to remember more stories of his parents’ neglect for future reference.

  There was very little to choose from on the television and so Monty switched over to the WWTBC (Witches and Wizards Television Broadcasting Corporation). Most people in the village believed that the dish on the roof was a normal satellite one, but theirs picked up the transmissions from the Blubberhouses transmitter.

  ‘Let’s have a look and see what rubbish we’ve got on tonight,’ Monty said exasperatedly as he flicked through the channels.

  The first programme was a cookery one; the Witch was cooking Karakadon steaks (a type of bull with one enormous, deadly, curved horn) in Rose wine and herbs. He flicked over to a gardening programme where an elderly Wizard with long silvery hair and a beard that finished about his midriff and wearing a straw hat was using an enlargement spell on some vegetables. His patched and frayed robes were tucked into a pair of electric-blue Wellington boots. A few more channels later and they were tuned into a soap opera, Warlocks, about a witching community in the highlands of Scotland, which in Monty’s opinion was like watching paint dry.

  ‘Can we watch Spell Busters?’ Cordelia asked, now starting to feel dizzy as she watched the channels whiz past.

  ‘Oh you don’t like that do you?’ Monty said, switching it over to channel eight.

  ‘It’s good,’ she replied haughtily. ‘I like to see what the Witches and Wizards are like from other countries.’

  ‘But it’s so boring,’ Chester countered as he slunk further into the sofa moodily.

  ‘Yeah, but you get some real thickies on it who don’t know the difference between a Hippocampus and a Hypogryph,’ said Monty laughing.

  The quizmaster, Nathaniel Flowerdew, sat behind an ostentatiously decorated podium covered with silver stars and moons. A sickly smile was fixed to his face revealing more teeth than a thoroughbred horse. His habit of tossing his head and flicking temporarily from his line of sight a curly blonde tendril that snaked down his forehead grated on Jebediah’s nerves.

  ‘Now for an extra ten bonus points,’ Nathaniel Flowerdew said in a simpering way, ‘can you tell me who discovered the impervious qualities of Wyvern hide?’

  The small plump Witch to whom the question was di
rected held a look akin to a startled rabbit when it’s caught in someone’s headlights. Jebediah could mentally hear the little cogs whirling round inside her head as she desperately sought the answer.

  ‘I must hurry you now,’ Nathaniel said with a cheesy grin.

  Her chins began to wobble furiously and her hands flapped about her face as she became more flustered.

  ‘Oh.’

  A loud buzzer sounded.

  ‘Ooooooh I am sorry Mildred, we were looking for Amadeus Holst,’ he crowed smugly and gave the camera trained on him a sly wink.

  ‘I’d love to hit him with a shrinking spell that would bring him down to size,’ Monty said with a look of disgust.

  ‘I’d just love to hit him,’ Chester chipped in with animosity.

  ‘Well, I think he’s marvellous,’ Cordelia bristled.

  ‘You would,’ Chester said turning to face her. ‘It seems all the female population go weak at the knees whenever he pops his inflated, supercilious head up anywhere. I bet you only fancy him because he’s on television,’ he accused.

  Cordelia flushed a bright red colour which reached the tips of her ears. It took her a moment or two to find her voice but when she did it was high-pitched and strained to almost breaking point.

  ‘I…I actually think he’s an excellent television presenter for your information.’

  ‘Yeah right,’ Chester scoffed, ‘and I only like Honeybomb for her brains.’

  This statement brought a smile to even Jebediah’s face. Honeybomb was a singing sensation of phenomenal proportions and had been ever since she exploded onto the television nearly a year ago. He couldn’t deny she had a good singing voice but her popularity had more to do with her looks and the scantily clad way in which she dressed. There wasn’t a teenage Wizard in the country that didn’t have at least one poster of her up on his wall, which, if truth be told, they snogged every night.

  Cordelia, who appeared to be very affronted by his remark, sprang forward and swivelled her legs round on the sofa so she was merely perched on the very edge like a bird resting on a branch. Her face, which had been red, was now pure white with fury.

  ‘How can you say such a ridiculous thing?’ she began. ‘She …she does nothing for the image of modern witches …’

  ‘I think she’s got a damn good image myself,’ Monty replied as a wicked grin spread over his face.

  This made matters worse.

  ‘As for brains,’ Cordelia carried on, now well into her stride, ‘I’ve seen Trolls with more up there,’ and pointed to her head with her finger, ‘than she has,’ she finished angrily. She was almost shaking with pent up rage.

  Chester and Monty exchanged glances and chorused in unison, ‘Ooooooh’ and lifted imaginary handbags up to their chins, winding her up even more.

  Alex placed his hand over the side of his face and hid. Keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the television he kept out of what was fast becoming a full-scale battle of wills.

  Secretly, even he thought that Honeybomb was about the best thing on the WWTBC. That was except perhaps for the show where Witches and Wizards brought their pets in and got them to perform funny acts or stunts. There was always some idiot whose performance went wrong like a Wizard from Nottingham with his pet Griffin. He had attempted to put his head in its mouth like a lion tamer would at a circus. Whether he had fed it before-hand or not Alex wasn’t sure, but the Griffin decided to clamp its jaws firmly down and eat its master. This was despite the fact that several Witches and Wizards ran forward, wands raised as they fired off a series of spells.

  Between the narrow slits of his fingers he snatched a peak at Jebediah who was squirming uncomfortably in the other chair. The atmosphere was tense, and as he glanced at Cordelia she looked like the Griffin had done just before it ate its master.

  The sun was now beginning to lose its warmth and its colour changed from a vivid yellow-orange to a deep amber-red as it prepared to descend in the sky and rest.

  Jebediah stood up to close the curtains. As he drew them a movement from the corner of the house opposite caught his attention. Along the side of the wall a figure dressed in dark clothing lurked suspiciously. He couldn’t make out the features, but whoever it was they were trying very hard indeed to conceal themselves.

  Sitting back down in the chair he took out the card that Seamus had pressed into his hand before he left. It was metallic silver and the size of a business card. There didn’t seem to be any writing on it but, as he turned it towards the electric light overhead, he noticed a telephone number embossed on it.

  ‘What’s that?’ Chester asked, pointing to the card he was holding in his fingers.

  Jebediah looked down at it. ‘It’s a card that Seamus gave me. He said that if we needed any help then we should ring this number’

  ‘I don’t think we need any help,’ Chester mused. ‘Everything seems to be going okay and we’ve only got until tomorrow.’

  ‘That could be too late,’ said Jebediah.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Cordelia asked, the previous argument now forgotten.

  He didn’t want to worry anyone and, after all, it could be nothing, but a nagging feeling tugged at his stomach. He was sure that whoever he’d seen across the road had been watching the house.

  ‘When I got up to close the curtains I thought I saw someone watching the house,’ he said slowly.

  ‘Are you sure?’ asked Monty.

  ‘Oh no!’ Cordelia cried and jumped up from the sofa in panic. Pacing the room she began ranting. ‘I knew this would happen. They’ve found out where we are and they’re going to kill us, or even worse torture us and then kill us.’

  ‘Calm down old girl,’ Monty said, patting the sofa in an attempt to get her to sit.

  Jebediah thought that perhaps now was as good a time as any to call in reinforcements.

  ‘Listen, nobody is going to be tortured,’ he said. Taking Cordelia by the shoulders he sat her back down, which was lucky as Chester was cracking his knuckles in readiness to slap her in case she became too hysterical. ‘I’m going to ring this number and see if whoever it belongs to can help.’

  ‘But what if they can’t or they won’t,’ Cordelia asked anxiously, still thinking about what the Mafia was going to do to them and recalling all the horrid, lurid tales she had ever heard.

  Jebediah dialled the number on the card and waited with a pounding heart while it rang at the other end. Ting ting, ting ting.

  ‘Hello, this is Primrose’ a sweet voice said down the telephone. ‘I’m sorry I’m not here to take your call but if you leave your name, number or address and a message indicating how urgent your problem is I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.’

  Jebediah was momentarily stumped. He hadn’t known what to expect, but the sound of a girl’s voice, one that sounded like a child’s had not been it.

  ‘Err … this is Jebediah Humphries speaking,’ he began a little flustered. ‘My address is Pickwick Cottage, High Street, Whipsey. I was given your card by Seamus. He said that you would help us if we need it, and we do. I would be grateful if you could come as soon as possible as it’s very urgent.’ As an afterthought he added, ‘Oh, thank you.’

  ‘Well?’ Cordelia asked, rubbing her hands together agitatedly.

  Jebediah shrugged his shoulders. ‘I don’t know, it was just an answering machine but …’

  ‘But what?’ asked Monty, apprehension now entering his own voice?

  ‘Well she sounded……’

  That was as far as he got.

  ‘SHE, SHE …?’ Chester said rising to his feet. ‘What do you mean she? I thought when Seamus gave you that card it would direct us to someone who could at least give us some sort of protection.’

  ‘Oh no,’ Cordelia wailed and began to sob uncontrollably into her hands, tears mingl
ing with the snot that was coming out of her nose each time she snivelled.

  Everyone began talking at once.

  ‘QUIET!’ Monty yelled, and the whole room fell silent. ‘Calm down. For a start, we don’t know that the person that Jebediah saw outside there works for the Gnomes and, secondly, panicking isn’t going to help matters. I’m sure that, whoever this person is, Seamus thinks she can help. For all we know she could be a really powerful Witch.’

  His speech managed to calm them all down, although Cordelia still shook silently into the front of her T-shirt.

  ‘We just have to wait and see,’ he continued.

  ‘Yeah he’s right,’ Jebediah added. ‘We don’t know who Primrose is or what she can do so we’ll just have to sit tight and wait. But as a precaution I think we should stick together.’

  ‘Good idea,’ agreed Monty.

  Alex got up and made them all a cup of tea as it was something his mum always did in dire situations or after a shock. He decided not to ask Grimble to do it as he had retreated to the attic. He was probably already drunk and insensible by now anyway.

  ‘Drink this,’ he said, handing the cup to Cordelia who took it gratefully, her hands still with a slight tremble and her eyes red.

  Nobody complained about watching Spell Busters, which Monty had left on in order that Cordelia would have something to take her mind off the present situation.

  If Jebediah had thought that the mysterious Primrose would take her time in making an appearance he was seriously wrong.

  Within an hour of the phone call there came a swift rapping at the door, which had startled everyone sat in the room, sending their pulses racing, paranoid that it was the Gnomes, until Monty pointed out that the Mafia wouldn’t knock. Looking at one another with anxious faces, Jebediah got to his feet slowly and answered the door.

  Looking out into the street he could see no one there. He stared across at the houses opposite, now lit by the faint glow of street lamps and searched for the person responsible.

  ‘Hello,’ a voice said from somewhere below.