Book Read Free

A Witch in a Fix

Page 4

by Marian Broderick


  Resume the human form you had –

  BUT one thing more before you start:

  You’ll both FORGET about my part!’

  The seconds ticked by. I held my breath. Everyone seemed frozen in time.

  Then Mrs Cuffy unfroze herself, spat a bit of mouldy sausage at me and began to climb down the side of the bin. She was still a rat!

  Meanwhile Mr Cuffy unfroze himself, shot me a dirty look and raised his gun again.

  ‘Don’t give up, Anna!’ shouted Mary. Her face, peering around the bin, was hopeful and both her thumbs were raised in a sign of good luck. ‘One more time!’ she shouted.

  I did the rhyme again – but this time, at the top of my voice.

  At last, I felt the magic power surging through my legs, into my arms, and flowing out through my fingers towards Mr and Mrs Cuffy. There was a flash of blue flame and a deafening bang.

  When the smoke cleared, a grimy, greasy HUMAN Mrs Cuffy was clinging to the side of the rubbish bin! Mr Cuffy’s mouth was open and his gun was on the ground. He goggled at his wife.

  ‘What the …’ he whispered. ‘Edel?’

  ‘Joey!’ shouted Mrs Cuffy, reaching out both arms to her husband and crashing to the ground. Mr Cuffy raced forward to his wife and dragged her to her feet.

  ‘Edel? Is that really you?’ he said. ‘Look at the state of you! Where on earth have you been?’

  ‘I don’t know, Joey!’ whimpered Mrs Cuffy.

  ‘What do you mean, you don’t know!’ shouted Mr Cuffy. He looked around him. ‘And where’s that blasted rat?’

  ‘What rat, Joey?’ said Mrs Cuffy. She looked down at herself. ‘Why do I look like this? What’s been happening?’

  Mary and I exchanged glances. I edged over to her hiding place.

  ‘Time for us to push off, I think,’ I said.

  Mary nodded and broke into a huge dimpled smile. We slunk into the bushes and headed for home.

  12

  ‘FIRM, BUT FAIR’

  The next morning the whole school echoed to the sounds of Mr Cuffy complaining that Mrs Winkle had taken his gun away. He was also very suspicious of Mrs Cuffy, who couldn’t remember a thing about where she’d been for three days. As for the huge rat, he simply couldn’t understand what had happened to it. Meanwhile, Mrs Cuffy was taken down to the police station and told off for disappearing and wasting police time.

  By now I felt pretty sorry for them both. Soon I felt so guilty that I found myself outside Mrs Winkle’s office ready to confess everything – and ask for help with my own little problem.

  ‘Come in, Anna Kelly!’ shouted Mrs Winkle before I’d even knocked. I took a deep breath and entered.

  ‘Well, well, well,’ said Mrs Winkle. ‘If it isn’t our very own trainee witch – and part-time burglar!’

  She peered over her glasses, and her piercing blue gaze skewered me to the floor. Everything in the office was neat and tidy as usual and the broken window had already been replaced. There was no sign of the magic box.

  ‘I – I’ve come to apologise, Mrs Winkle,’ I said. ‘You were right all along. It was me who turned Mrs Cuffy into a rat in the first place – right here in school!’

  ‘I knew it!’ said Mrs Winkle, rapping the desk with her knuckles. ‘And yet you looked me straight in the eye and lied about it!’

  ‘I know,’ I mumbled, very ashamed. ‘I was trying to wriggle out of trouble.’

  ‘And how did you get into my magic box?’ said Mrs Winkle.

  ‘I stole the key,’ I said. ‘Then I had a fight with Mrs Cuffy, which got a bit messy. It was me who wasted all the Sorcery Slime.’

  ‘Do you know how difficult it is to make that stuff?’ said Mrs Winkle. ‘You have to milk beetles – it takes weeks!’

  I looked up.

  ‘And there’s one other thing,’ I said. ‘I’ve told Mary Maxwell that I’m a witch!’

  ‘You did what?’ said Mrs Winkle, rising from behind her desk and pacing the floor. ‘This is getting worse and worse.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said.

  ‘You’ll have to be punished, you know,’ said Mrs Winkle.

  ‘Yes, I know,’ I said, sighing. ‘But I think it’s already started.’

  I kicked off my wellies and peeled off my socks. My piggy-feet looked hideous.

  Mrs Winkle put her fingers over her lips as if to stifle a laugh.

  ‘Yes, I see what you mean,’ she said. ‘That’ll be the Pinky Porker Powder that was scattered all over the carpet, right?’

  ‘Yes, Miss,’ I said.

  ‘Anna, that’s a taste of your own medicine. I want you to remember how it feels!’ said Mrs Winkle. ‘In future, you never use magic to settle scores with people you don’t like!’

  ‘Yes, Miss,’ I said.

  ‘Or lie to your superiors!’ she said.

  ‘Yes, Miss,’ I said.

  ‘Or broadcast your powers to the world!’ she said.

  ‘It will never happen again, Miss.’

  Mrs Winkle sat down.

  ‘Now. Your punishments,’ she said. ‘Firstly, I will speak to your aunts and make sure you are grounded for the rest of term!’

  I sighed. I was expecting that one.

  ‘Secondly,’ she said. ‘You will spend every evening for the next two weeks making more Sorcery Slime to replace what you wasted.’

  Two weeks up to my eyes in beetles. Great.

  ‘Yes, Miss,’ I said, trying to sound chirpy about it.

  ‘Thirdly, you will put a strong Forgetting Spell on Mary Maxwell,’ said Mrs Winkle. ‘She must remember nothing about your little adventure. Is that clear?’

  I felt tears pricking my eyes. I hadn’t realised how lonely it was keeping my secret all to myself until I had told Mary. I clasped my hands together and gazed up at Mrs Winkle.

  ‘Please, Miss,’ I said. ‘I trust Mary! She’s my best friend – she would never do anything to harm me! I’ll do anything else you want – but please, please can’t she know who and what I am!’

  Mrs Winkle gazed at me steadily for a moment and drummed on the desk with her long fingers.

  ‘Will you take another punishment instead?’ she said. ‘Any other punishment?’

  This was risky. Who knew what Mrs Winkle was going to come out with! I dried my eyes and took a deep breath.

  ‘Yes, Miss,’ I said in a small, wobbly voice.

  Mrs Winkle leapt out of her seat and pointed at me. I gasped. The wand in her hand had appeared out of nowhere.

  ‘How about if I turned the rest of you into a pig – let’s say for a month!’ she boomed. ‘And see how you like it!’

  I blinked and swallowed hard. Life as a pig! Was I really ready to pay such a high price for my friendship with Mary?

  ‘OK, Miss,’ I whispered. ‘Whatever you say!’

  Mrs Winkle raised her arms high. We stood looking at each other without blinking for a long moment, but the spell that trembled on her lips never came. Her blue eyes softened, she lowered her arms and sat down.

  ‘I’m not made of stone, Anna,’ she said. ‘I know being a witch can be a lonely business sometimes. I’ll allow Mary Maxwell to keep your secret. But in return you will do something else. You will help Mrs Cuffy in the science lab every morning before school for the rest of term – and learn to get along with her!’

  I heaved a deep sigh and nodded. Firm, but fair – that’s what they called Mrs Winkle. And I had to admit it was true. I wasn’t looking forward to the next few weeks – but I had certainly learned my lesson about using my powers in the right way.

  ‘Do you agree with this plan, Anna?’ said Mrs Winkle.

  ‘Yes, Miss,’ I said.

  ‘Right, sign here, please,’ she said, whipping out a sheet of paper from her desk.

  I read through the paper. It was a contract stating all the things I had promised to do. Mrs Winkle certainly wasn’t taking any chances. I signed my name at the bottom.

  ‘Finished?’ said Mrs Winkle. She smiled
and clicked her fingers. ‘You can put your shoes and socks on now.’

  I bent down to grab my shoes and socks and gasped. Instead of the pig’s trotters, I was looking at my own two familiar feet! I was no longer part-pig – I was human again!

  ‘See how good it feels to be a human?’ said Mrs Winkle. ‘Remember that, Anna Kelly!’

  I felt a massive weight lift off my shoulders.

  ‘Yes, Miss! I shouted. ‘Thanks, Miss!’

  I was free! I turned and raced out of the office. Outside in the sunny playground, Mary and the other kids were playing football.

  FROM ‘THE WITCH APPRENTICE’

  LEAVING SUNNY HILLS

  I couldn’t believe my eyes when I first saw number 13 Crag Road. No wonder everyone at the Sunny Hills Children’s Home had sniggered when I’d said it was going to be my new home.

  Everything about number 13 was crooked. Its walls were crooked, its chimneys were crooked. Even its doors and windows were crooked.

  It looked like it was going to fall over any second.

  But crooked or not, number 13 was my new home. You see, the two ladies who owned the place, Grizz and Wormella Mint, had adopted me.

  My name’s Anna Kelly. I don’t have any parents, and I have never had a proper home. I’ve been at Sunny Hills Children’s Home since I was a tiny baby. By the time I was nine, so many people had decided NOT to adopt me that I had grown used to the idea of spending the rest of my life at Sunny Hills.

  But I wasn’t happy about it, not one bit. So when Grizz and Wormella turned up, promising me a pink-and-white bedroom with its own private bathroom, a posh new school, new clothes, weekly pocket money and my own TV, I felt like I’d won the Lotto!

  They had been so sweet in Mrs Pegg’s office. So sweet and so keen to have me. Very, very keen.

  ‘Anna, darling,’ the skinny one had cooed. ‘You’ll have the run of the house! You’ll be able to do exactly as you like!’

  ‘Thanks, Miss!’ I said.

  ‘Call me “aunty”, dear,’ she crooned.

  The run of the house! Able to do what I wanted! That suited me just fine. I was used to a lot of rules and regulations at Sunny Hills. It was porridge at 7.00am, lights out at 9.00pm, that kind of thing.

  But now! Now life was looking up! The two old dears’ only wish was to pamper me. I’d get new clothes, new toys …

  It took exactly a minute after arriving at number 13 Crag Road for me to realise I’d made a mistake. A big, BIG mistake.

  The Witch Apprentice by Marian Broderick, ISBN 978-1-84717-129-0

  FROM ‘THE WITCH IN THE WOODS’

  MRS WINKLE GETS CROSS

  You’re going to a witches’ workshop this Saturday,’ said Mrs Winkle.

  ‘This Saturday?’ I said. ‘But I can’t this Saturday, Miss!’

  ‘What do you mean, you can’t?’ said Mrs Winkle, frowning. ‘It’s all arranged.’

  ‘I’m really sorry, Miss,’ I said. ‘But Mary and I are having a sleepover at my house. We’ve been planning it for ages …’

  ‘A sleepover?’ said Mrs Winkle. ‘Sitting around watching rubbish on TV and eating junk food? Do you really think that’s more important than working on your magic?’

  That was exactly what I thought – but I didn’t dare say so. So I just stared at the floor and moved from one foot to the other.

  ‘Stubborn child!’ she said. ‘You must at least promise you’ll practise at home this weekend,’ she said. ‘A lot. Sleepover or not!’

  ‘Yes, Miss,’ I said. ‘I promise.’

  In the playground, Mary was leaning against the old hazel tree.

  ‘What was all that about?’ she said.

  ‘Nothing,’ I said. ‘Homework lecture, that’s all.’

  ‘Come on,’ said Mary. ‘Let’s go home by Coldwell Wood, it’ll be quicker!’

  A shiver ran down my spine.

  ‘Do we have to?’ I said. ‘It’s safer by the main road.’

  ‘Don’t be such a baby!’ said Mary. ‘Last one to Crag Road is a turnip!’ She shot off into the trees.

  I hesitated. I always avoid dark, creepy places. You never knew who – or what – you might meet. But I could see Mary’s blue school jumper disappearing into the gloom. So I hoicked my bag over my shoulder, and jogged into the wood after her.

  ‘Let’s at least stick to the path, OK?’ I panted, as I fell into step beside her.

  ‘Yes, Grandma,’ said Mary. ‘Keep your freckles on.’

  We strolled along in silence. The dry leaves crackled beneath our feet and somewhere a bird squawked.

  ‘Listen to that!’ I said. ‘It sounds like a cat being turned inside out!’

  ‘Sounds more like you in choir today!’ said Mary.

  ‘Hey!’ I laughed and slapped her arm.

  Mary danced out of reach, giggling.

  ‘Come on then!’ she sang. ‘Come and get me!’

  She ran between two huge oak trees and into the dark wood.

  I groaned.

  ‘Mary!’ I said. ‘Stop it! You’ll get us in trouble!’

  I stopped walking. There was dead silence.

  ‘Mary!’ I shouted. I could hear my own voice quavering. ‘Mary?’

  Keep walking, I told myself. Mary’s all right, she’s just messing about.

  But I couldn’t walk. All I could do was stare into the trees, where Mary had disappeared.

  Between the two oaks, I could see a glimmering green light – and it was growing brighter and brighter.

  The Witch in the Woods by Marian Broderick, ISBN 978-1-84717-108-5

  AVAILABLE FROM ALL GOOD BOOKSHOPS

  About the Author

  MARIAN BRODERICK was born in north London to Irish parents, and still lives in the same street where she grew up. She couldn’t read until she was eight years old but once she started, she couldn’t stop. At nine, she wrote a series of detective stories, which luckily have been lost in the cellar of her house. As an adult, Marian became a book editor, working for publishing companies in Britain, Ireland, Australia, Hong Kong and Japan. She has written several books for children, including The Lost Fairy and the first two books in the ‘Anna the Witch’ series, The Witch Apprentice and The Witch in the Woods. Is she a witch? Well, she does have two cats …

  ‘ANNA THE WITCH’ BOOKS

  THE WITCH APPRENTICE

  THE WITCH IN THE WOODS

  A WITCH IN A FIX

  Copyright

  This eBook edition first published 2012 by The O’Brien Press Ltd,

  12 Terenure Road East, Rathgar, Dublin 6, Ireland

  Tel: +353 1 4923333; Fax: +353 1 4922777

  E-mail: books@obrien.ie

  Website: www.obrien.ie

  First published 2009

  eBook ISBN: 978-1-84717-424-6

  Text © copyright Marian Broderick 2009

  Copyright for typesetting, layout, editing, design, illustrations

  © The O’Brien Press Ltd

  UNAUTHORISED COPYING IS ILLEGAL

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or utilised in any form or my any means, including electronic, digital, mechanical, visual or audio, or mounted on any network servers, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Carrying out any unauthorised act in relation to a copyright work may result in both a civil claim for damages and criminal prosecution. For permission to copy any part of this publication contact The O’Brien Press Ltd at books@obrien.ie.

  British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data

  A catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library

  The O’Brien Press receives assistance from

  Layout and design: The O’Brien Press

 

 

 
tyle = " -webkit-filter: grayscale(100%); -moz-filter: grayscale(100%); -o-filter: grayscale(100%); -ms-filter: grayscale(100%); filter: grayscale(100%); " class="sharethis-inline-share-buttons">share



‹ Prev