I crept to Mrs Winkle’s room, held my breath and pushed open the door. My heart felt as if it was going to burst as I crept into her office and towards her desk.
There sat the silver box, glinting in a beautiful pool of magical moonlight.
I went to the top drawer in the desk. I opened it – and there was the silver key! I hugged myself in excitement and picked it up. I tiptoed to the box and slotted the silver key inside the lock. The box sprang open at once.
The box was packed to the brim with magical objects, tricks and spells. Most of the stuff was out of my league – I wasn’t even allowed to handle magic like this yet.
There was invisibility powder, giant finger bones for telling the future, magic dust, a mini-crystal ball, a dream kit, phials of dragon poison …
I picked up an open jar full of green goo, sniffed it and recoiled. Yuk! It smelt like a cross between old fish guts and rancid camel’s milk.
I looked at the label.
‘“Sorcery Slime”,’ I read aloud. Smelly Slime more like! I put the jar on the desk and continued rummaging in the box.
I was so busy rifling about, I didn’t see the extra shadow on the wall at first …
But at the back of my neck the hairs stood on end. A dark shape appeared in the corner of my eye. I stopped, turned around slowly and squinted. It was a shadow – and it was definitely growing …
What was it – a tree branch, a cloud? The shadow grew bigger still. This was no tree. It had whiskers …
‘Charlie? Is that you?’ I whispered. I crossed my fingers. Maybe he’d ignored my instructions and followed me.
Suddenly the air was split by a piercing scream. My blood ran cold. I’d heard that sound before – and it wasn’t Charlie!
Out of the gloom leapt the dark shape of Mrs Cuffy. She sprang onto the desk and fixed me with ratty little eyes full of hate. The next thing I knew, she had pushed me aside and jumped right into the magic box!
‘Get out of there!’ I shouted, trying to pull her out.
But Mrs Cuffy was surprisingly strong for a rat. She used one back leg to hold the box lid open and grabbed at the spells and potions with her two front paws. She picked up anything that came to hand – shrunken lizard heads, shark eyeballs, anything – and lobbed it at me.
There was nothing I could do except duck. I watched helplessly as magical objects whizzed out of the box, past my ears and all over the floor.
After about ten seconds, Mrs Cuffy’s head popped above the side of the box. Her whiskers twitched as she held up something in her front paws. It was a test tube filled with pink powder. This time, she took careful aim before she threw it at me. I ducked out of the way of most of it, but a tiny bit scattered on my feet.
To my horror, my feet immediately went numb. I stared down at them. Inside my trainers, they grew smaller and smaller. As I lifted each one up to look, my socks and trainers fell off.
My mouth dropped open. On each foot my five toes had turned into two big toes and one small one! I rubbed my eyes hard.
I no longer had human feet – I had pig’s trotters!
‘Where are my feet?’ I gasped. ‘Mrs Cuffy! What have you done to me?’
I don’t know if you’ve ever heard a rat laughing but it is not a pretty sound. Mrs Cuffy clutched her sides as her furry, bony rat-shoulders shook with high-pitched giggles.
Furious, I grabbed the open jar of Sorcery Slime.
‘Right, you horrible creature!’ I shouted. ‘Two can play at that game!’
I threw the green, smelly slime all over Mrs Cuffy.
For a moment, she froze like a statue, with her two front paws raised. Green gunk dripped off her fur. Then, right in front of my eyes, she changed – but not back into a human.
Instead, her snout grew longer and so did her yellow teeth.
Her tail shot out to twice its length and sprouted black bristles at the end.
Her body doubled to twice its normal size until she was the size of a dog. Her brown, greasy fur became shaggy and matted.
Within a few seconds, Mrs Cuffy had changed from an ordinary brown rat into a mutant monster – she was still a rat, but not like any rat I’d ever seen before. She was HUGE!
‘Hell’s teeth! What have I done now?’ I whispered. I looked from Mrs Cuffy to my trotters and back again. ‘I don’t even think I can run away! I am so rat food!’
I backed into a corner as the monstrous Mrs Cuffy stalked towards me.
9
A LATE-NIGHT CONVERSATION
My heart beat louder and louder as Mrs Cuffy stalked closer and closer. Then her ears twitched once – and she stopped in her tracks. There was a noise outside the office.
It sounded like footsteps. I closed my eyes. Was it Mr Cuffy doing his rounds of the school? Or was it Mrs Winkle coming to collect her magic box? I didn’t know which was worse – being caught burgling the head’s office or becoming a late supper for a dog-sized rodent.
But Mrs Cuffy wasn’t hanging around to see who was coming. She shot one last spite-filled look at me, and leapt towards the closed window. She crashed through it in a shower of splinters and was gone, leaving an enormous rat-shaped hole in the glass.
The footsteps in the hall paused for a second and then came straight towards the office. I was caught like a cockroach in a glue trap.
I snapped shut the lid of the magic box and threw the key in the drawer. I flung myself on the floor behind the desk and crouched down. The door creaked open.
But it wasn’t Mr Cuffy or Mrs Winkle. Instead, peeping around the door, I saw the very last face I was expecting.
‘Mary!’ I said, standing up.
‘Ha!’ she said. ‘Got you!’
‘I can’t believe it!’ I said. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I saw you climbing out your bedroom window and I followed you,’ she said. ‘Anyway, never mind about me! What are you up to? And why is there all this weird stuff on the floor?’
I didn’t know where to start. I had never told Mary I was a witch in case she didn’t want to be friends with me any more. But now, she’d caught me behaving very strangely indeed.
Maybe it was time I told the truth. I was so sick of lying. And, after all, Mary was my best friend.
But what if she didn’t believe me? What if she thought I was mad or lying?
And what on earth was she going to say about my new feet? Who wanted to be best friends with a girl who had pig’s trotters instead of toes?
‘Mary,’ I said. ‘Sit down. I’ve got something to tell you.’
‘You certainly have, madam!’ she said, plonking herself in a chair and crossing her arms.
I took a deep breath and told Mary the whole story. Nearly.
She listened in silence as I told her how Aunty Grizz and Aunty Wormella had adopted me, and how we all found out I was a natural-born witch.
I told how about how I studied magic outside school hours. I told her all about shape-shifting and about what I’d done to Mrs Cuffy.
I told her about running into Mrs Cuffy this evening. Finally I showed her my hideous pig-feet.
On the whole, Mary took it pretty well. She went quiet for a second and stared at me. I held my breath. Would she gang up with other kids and tease me at school tomorrow?
‘Wow, Anna!’ she finally said as a smile crept across her face. ‘That’s so cool! I would never have guessed – you look so ordinary!’
She paused, looked at my trotters, and stifled a giggle.
‘Well, most of you does, anyway!’ she said.
‘Thanks a lot!’ I said.
‘But where did all this stuff come from?’ asked Mary, wrinkling her nose.
‘They’re potions of mine from home,’ I lied. ‘I store them in school sometimes.’
Although I could tell Mary everything about myself, I couldn’t breathe a word about Mrs Winkle. That’s a golden rule in witchcraft: one witch never tells on another.
‘Can you walk, Anna?’ asked Mary. ‘We coul
d stuff your socks into your trainers and jam your feet into them. They won’t slip off and no one will notice!’
And that’s when I knew it would be all right – that Mary was still on my side! My breath gushed out in a huge sigh of relief.
‘Come on,’ I said. ‘Let’s get going.’
All the way home we chatted about witchcraft. It felt great to share it all with someone. Back in the warm kitchen at number 13 Crag Road, we tried to decide what to do next.
‘So the situation is,’ said Mary, finishing her cocoa, ‘that instead of having an ordinary rat to worry about, we’ve got a monster, mutant, killer, rodent on the loose.’
I hung my head. Charlie came and snuggled between us and I tickled his ears.
‘Not to mention,’ she said, ‘that you’ve got feet like a farm animal and you don’t know how to get rid of them.’
‘I keep trying to make things right,’ I said. ‘But instead I just make things worse!’
‘Lucky for you that you’ve finally got some brains on board!’ she said.
‘I suppose that means you?’ I said. ‘Are you saying you’ll help me?’
‘Of course!’ she said. ‘We’re friends, aren’t we?’
I smiled for the first time in two days. Maybe things were looking up.
‘Right,’ I said. ‘How are we going to find Mrs Cuffy again before she finds me?’
‘Rats are creatures of habit,’ said Mary. ‘She’ll probably keep hanging around the school, or somewhere else that’s familiar.’
A lightbulb seemed to go on in my head.
‘That’s it!’ I said. ‘I bet she’s near her old home! The Cuffys’ house backs right onto the school. That’s why she keeps popping up all over the place!’
‘Yes, that makes sense,’ said Mary. ‘But what’s she living on?’
‘Didn’t you tell me that rats scavenge food scraps?’ I said. ‘And the school kitchen dustbins are at the bottom of the Cuffys’ garden! We’ll start there!’
‘Well done, genius,’ yawned Mary. ‘But what do we do with her when we find her? She’s no longer your average rat, is she, not now that you’ve had another go at her.’
My shoulders slumped.
‘I need to think about this,’ I said. ‘I need to get out my magic books and learn how to change that monster back into Mrs Cuffy. I admit I can shape-shift all right, but I’m not very good at changing things back.’
‘So I see,’ said Mary, yawning again. ‘Can I go now? I have to get some sleep before school.’
‘Lucky you,’ I said, stretching my arms out. ‘I’ve got too much to do to sleep. See you tomorrow?’
‘Bye-bye, Porkers,’ said Mary, grinning. I scowled.
Five minutes later, Charlie and I were on my bed in the attic surrounded by all my spell books. I was determined to stay awake all night and find a spell that would sort out Mrs Cuffy once and for all.
Two minutes after that, I was lying on top of the books, dribbling. I was fast asleep.
10
‘AS YOU WERE’
Next morning, I got up early and crept around the house like a ghost. I could not let Aunty Grizz and Aunty Wormella see my horrible new feet, so I made my breakfast and got ready for school before they were up.
I jammed my feet into my wellies and wedged socks inside. Then I limped to school.
St Munchin’s was in chaos. The new-style mutant rat was popping up all over the place and scaring everyone half to death. Mr Cuffy was stamping around in a fury, laying down poisoned traps and shouting at everyone.
‘I’ll kill that monster!’ he roared. ‘I’ll get it, if it’s the very last thing I do in this world!’
Owen Brady’s gang had come to school armed with home-made catapults. Every time there was a rustle behind a door or a table, they fired off soggy paper pellets.
They never hit Mrs Cuffy, of course – she was far too quick for them – but they hit each other and dozens of other kids. By lunchtime, the sick room was full to bursting with a steady stream of bruised, snivelling children.
Meanwhile, Mary and I flopped around like two wet rags. We were so tired that we couldn’t take in anything. Luckily the school was in such an uproar that no one noticed. No one said anything about my wellies and we got away with doing nothing all day.
When the home-time bell rang, Mary lifted her head off her desk and woke up a bit.
‘At last!’ she said. ‘So, are we going rat-hunting or what?’
‘Sure you still want to come?’ I said.
She shot me a withering look.
‘Someone needs to keep an eye on you, don’t they?’ she said. ‘Have you got your witchy kit with you? Let’s have a look!’
I put my fingers to my lips. We waited until the last person had left class then I opened my bag.
‘One black pointy hat,’ I said. ‘One genuine witch’s wand, and one book of brilliant spells.’
But Mary was difficult to impress.
‘That magic book looks a bit dog-eared,’ she said, poking at it. ‘Your hat’s got a hole in it and your wand is bent!’
‘It was all I could manage at short notice,’ I said. ‘Come on, let’s go!’
We slipped out of class and followed the gravel path out of the school grounds to the bottom of the Cuffys’ garden.
The big school bins were there all right. They were overflowing with rubbish because the bin men hadn’t been for a week – and, boy, did they stink!
‘Here, ratty, ratty!’ called Mary, holding her nose. ‘Come on, there’s a good girl!’
‘She’s not a puppy, Mary!’ I said. ‘And we’ve got to be quiet. She’s dangerous, remember!’ But Mary just giggled.
We searched around the bins. It was gross. The lids wouldn’t close because there was a week’s worth of rotting school dinners spilling out of the top of each bin. Flies and wasps buzzed around our heads as we poked around.
Suddenly Mary made a strangled sound, grabbed my arm and pointed upwards to the top of one of the bins.
Sure enough, there she was – Cuffy the monster rat!
Crouched on a pile of green, mouldy sausages, she looked even more enormous by daylight. She was gnawing hard at the rotting meat, and the black bristles on her greasy tail stood on end in pleasure.
I nudged Mary and put my finger to my lips. I opened my bag as quietly as I could, lifted out my witch hat and jammed it on my head. I whipped out the wand and spell book. I threw away the bag.
Mrs Cuffy’s ears twitched but she continued chewing on the sausages. Keeping one eye on her, I picked up some twigs and made a magic star on the ground around me.
‘Greedy pig,’ whispered Mary, wrinkling her nose. ‘No offence, Anna. I just mean she’s so huge, she’ll probably eat anything now.’
‘She’ll probably eat us if we stand still long enough!’ I whispered. ‘You’d better take cover. This is the difficult bit.’
‘Don’t worry, I’m off!’ said Mary. She shot behind the nearest bin and stayed there. Peeping out from the side, she gave me a thumbs-up.
I opened my spell book at a page near the back. The spell’s title read: As You Were.
I raised my wand and drew a deep breath.
But before I had a chance to say anything, Mrs Cuffy’s head shot up and her whiskers twitched. Blast it, I thought. She’s spotted me.
But Mrs Cuffy wasn’t looking at me. She was gazing straight past me over my shoulder. I heard a crunch on the gravel behind me. I spun around.
Mr Cuffy was standing on the path. He was holding a shotgun – and pointing it straight at Mrs Cuffy.
11
ANNA’S SPELL
‘Out of the way, missy, and you won’t get hurt!’ shouted Mr Cuffy.
I was so shocked at the sight of the school caretaker waving a gun about, that I dropped my spell book and my wand in a puddle. Mrs Cuffy’s reaction was just as dramatic. When she saw Mr Cuffy, she stood up on her huge hind legs, held out her arms and whimpered.
Mr
Cuffy raised his gun and my heart nearly stopped.
‘NO, Mr Cuffy!’ I shouted. ‘You can’t! You can’t kill her!’
‘That’s what you think!’ he shouted. ‘I’ll not let it escape a second time! Move yourself, girly! NOW!’
‘But you don’t understand!’ I pleaded. ‘That rat – she’s your wife!’
Mr Cuffy’s eyes swivelled towards me. His red face went dark purple and the veins in his forehead stood out so much they looked as though they would pop.
‘I beg your pardon!’ he shouted. ‘How dare you!’
For a moment I thought he was going to shoot me instead of Mrs Cuffy! I covered my face with my hands. Mr Cuffy struggled to control his temper.
‘No one gets the better of Joe Cuffy,’ he hissed, stamping down the path towards the bins. ‘Animal, human – or child!’
By now, Mrs Cuffy was leaping up and down on the rubbish, wagging her finger at Mr Cuffy and squealing at the top of her thin, ratty voice. Mr Cuffy looked confused for a moment. It was as if the rat reminded him of someone …
Then he shook his head, raised the shotgun to his shoulder again and placed his finger on the trigger.
‘Say your prayers, rodent!’ he said. Slowly his finger started to squeeze the trigger.
Mrs Cuffy stopped jumping and froze on the spot. Her beady black eyes swivelled from her husband to me and back again. Was it my imagination, or was she asking for help …?
I had to act, and act fast. I scrambled to my feet and jumped back inside my magic star. I couldn’t read my book of spells because it was soaked and filthy. So I pointed one index finger Mrs Cuffy and one at Mr Cuffy and made up a rhyme on the spot:
‘Mr Cuffy, spare her life,
Don’t pull the trigger on your wife!
Mrs C, though you’ve been bad,
A Witch in a Fix Page 3
