I supposed Auntie May could not bear the thought of Mrs. Ward being asked to do the potion. I took the bottle and set off down the street at a trot, with the bottle foaming and fizzing eerily in my fist. It was quite dark, and I was scared. When I turned in at the gate of the Big House, a large white shape drifted across the drive in front of me. I was too scared even to scream. I just stood.
Then the moon came up over the Fat Wizard’s chimneys and the white shape said “Honk!”, and I realized it was only Ranger. He knew it was me. He came and brushed his bristly self against me.
“Yes, you’re a nice pig,” I said. “Much nicer than the Fat Wizard. But don’t ever do that again!”
Then I went on and George tried to scare me too. He appeared suddenly in a red light, outside the front door. But I had used up all my fright on Ranger. I held the bottle scornfully out to him. George snatched it. Then he turned and went in through the front door without opening it first, waggling his stern as he melted through it.
I was annoyed, and I could hear Ranger grunting and foraging among the trees as I went back down the drive, so I was not particularly frightened until I got to the gate. Then midnight struck. Something howled, like a dog, but not quite like, over in the churchyard. My hair tried to stand on end, until I realized that it was full moon and the noise was only Old Ned, going mad as usual. I went across the road to have a look.
This is something all the village children like to do. There was a whole row of them sitting on the churchyard wall, ready to watch Old Ned. The biggest was Lizzie Holgate’s eldest boy, Jimmy, from the council houses.
Jimmy said, “We’ve been feeding your pig all this week.”
“Thanks,” I said.
“He’s a good animal,” Jimmy said. “I like a pig with brains.”
“Shut up!” someone else whispered. “Old Ned’s starting.”
Old Ned came crawling out of the church porch on all fours. That was how he always began. He thought he was a wolf. But I still don’t know why they called him Old Ned. There was no gray in his hair. When he felt the moonlight across his face, he stood up and stretched both arms in the air.
“Silver temptress!” he shouted. “Take this spell off me!” We giggled a bit and waited for what he would say next. He can go on for hours. He came shambling down the path between the graves, staring. “I see you!” he yelled. “I see you, Cheryl Watson!”
And he was staring straight at me. I could feel the row of boys moving away from me. Nobody dared be with anyone Old Ned noticed at full moon.
“I see you, Cheryl,” said Old Ned. “My mistress tells you to make sure to spend tomorrow night at your mother’s house. It will be to your advantage.” He gave a mad laugh and went shambling back into the church porch.
“The show’s over,” Jimmy said to the others. They all got off the wall and ran away without speaking to me. I didn’t think the show was over. Old Ned began howling again as I went back to Auntie May’s, but none of us felt like staying. I kept wondering. I woke up next morning still wondering why Old Ned had noticed me.
But that went out of my head when Mrs. Ward came banging on Auntie May’s door. Auntie May glared at her. Mrs. Ward had her hair in a pink turban and her red coat on over what looked to be a frilly nightdress. Tears were driving black streaks down her makeup.
“Oh, what have you gone and done to our poor Fat Wizard!” she gasped. She was killing herself laughing. “Come and take a look!”
We ran outside. Most of the village was out there, either in a row in front of the White Horse or up in the churchyard. And there was George, frantically running up the street with a coil of rope, trying to throw a loop of rope over the Fat Wizard. The Fat Wizard was floating and bobbing about forty feet over everyone’s heads. You could see he was nearly as light as air. And he was livid. He was wearing purple pajamas and his face was the same color. His eyes were blue bubbles of pure rage.
“Oh dear,” said Auntie May.
“It’s not your fault,” I said. “He asked you to reduce his weight.”
“Get me down, George!” the Fat Wizard bawled in a high, windy voice.
George threw the rope again and hit him with the loop, which made the Fat Wizard bob another ten feet up in the air. The wind caught him and whirled him toward the church.
“Help, George!” he yelled, bouncing against the steeple.
“Trying to, sir! Out of my way!” George shouted, leaping over gravestones and dodging among staring people. “Oh, I do blame myself for opening the window without looking, sir!”
Another gust of wind sent the Fat Wizard slowly bumping and scraping up the steeple. Auntie May went indoors then and made me come too. She said the disgrace was too much. I couldn’t see properly from her house. All I could see was Lizzie Holgate arriving, pushing her old pushchair with her twins in it, with Mary and Jimmy and Charlene carrying the smaller babies. I saw Lizzie take two of the babies and send Jimmy and Mary off, but I couldn’t see where. Jimmy told me later.
The Fat Wizard was hooked on the weathercock by then. But of course George was a demon, so he couldn’t touch the church. Lizzie sent Jimmy and Mary up the stairs inside the steeple with the rope. They climbed out at the top and tied the rope to him. Then they unhooked him and George hauled him down into the churchyard. Jimmy said the Fat Wizard didn’t even thank them.
While that was happening, Mrs. Ward ran past and went into her house, still laughing. Soon after, George came panting along with the rope over his shoulder, towing the bobbing, fluttering Fat Wizard like an angry barrage balloon. We had a good view, because Mrs. Ward lived six houses up, beyond the place where the road bends around the White Horse. It took George twenty minutes to work the bouncing and bobbling Fat Wizard through Mrs. Ward’s front door.
“Well, she should have had time to get dressed by now, even the way she dresses,” Auntie May said viciously.
She was very upset. So was I, rather. It could have been my fault. I told you how I came to win Ranger in the heat of the moment. I could have put in a bit of ill-wishing when I grated the ingredients or when I handed the potion to George. That made me feel I ought to keep out of Auntie May’s way for a while. I asked if I could go and see my mother.
Auntie May felt like being alone. She told me to stay the night if I wanted. “But make sure to come back in time to go to the Fête tomorrow,” she added.
My mother lives out along Water Lane. It felt strange to be going there and not living there anymore.
“Is someone blaming you for that weight-reducing spell?” my mother asked. She had heard all about it, of course.
“I’m not sure,” I said. “Has there been anything to my advantage here?”
“Not that I know of,” said my mother.
“Then I’ll have to stay the night,” I said.
Mother was not too keen on the idea. She turned out to be using my old room as an apple-store. But she is fond of me, and she let me spend the night on the sofa, which was much warmer than my old room. And in the morning, as if Old Ned had known, there was a letter from my Godmother. My Godmother is head of the biggest coven in Town. She wrote that I must be about old enough to be leaving school now, and she invited me to come and join her and train to be a witch.
“Write and tell her you can’t,” said my mother. “If I’d known she was going to offer, I’d never have let you go to May. But it’s too late now. You can’t let May down.”
“Bother!” I said sadly. I was longing to live in Town. I put the letter in my pocket to answer later and went back to Auntie May’s.
I came back to a sight I had quite often seen before. Auntie May was standing dourly in the street, staring at her house. Most of the side wall was missing. The roof was sagging, and the front room was filled with broken laths, plaster, and the ruins of Auntie May’s furniture. The house is on a right-angled bend, you see. A lorry driver coming through the village in the night could see the White Horse, but not Auntie May’s house on the other side of the str
eet beyond it. This lorry driver had not turned his wheel quickly enough and had arrived in Auntie May’s front room in the middle of the night. He had driven through my bedroom too. Almost the first thing I saw through the hole was the ruins of my bed, upside down in the plaster next to the street. My bedroom floor was missing. I gulped a bit when I saw and said a silent “Thank you” to Old Ned.
“I am insured,” Auntie May said glumly. “And I daresay I deserved it for getting that potion wrong.”
“You mean,” I said, “the Fat Wizard?”
Auntie May said, “Hush!” and gave a stiff, uneasy look all round. “Yes, this happens every time I cross him. Well, come in. The kitchen’s still there.”
We picked our way through the rubble. I no longer wondered why Auntie May hurried to obey the Fat Wizard when he wanted something. And I was angry. The Fat Wizard had not even thought what might happen to me!
“They say he gave Tallulah Ward a gold bracelet,” Auntie May said bitterly while the kettle boiled. “She made him heavy again. I saw him walk past on his own two feet with that George fussing around him. Ah well, life is not meant to be fair. I mustn’t grumble.”
I did not agree at all. I said, “Didn’t he give the Holgates anything?”
“Of course not!” Auntie May said, surprised at the idea.
I was still angry when we set off to the Church Fête that afternoon. We had to spend all morning putting No Entry spells on the house. The builder was too busy with the Fat Wizard’s gutters to board up the hole. And my best dress was somewhere in the rubble under my bed. I only had my old jersey and skirt. The Church Fête, in spite of a chilly wind, was full of people in their summer best, and the first person we met when we went through the gate was Mrs. Ward. She was wearing a new red dress and making her new gold bracelet chink up and down her arm by carrying a big bunch of magic balloons which kept tugging to get away. She smiled meanly at us.
“Come for your jumble, have you?” she said. “I’m surprised you dare show your faces. You look just like the two fools you are.”
I’d admired Mrs. Ward up to then. I was quite disillusioned. Auntie May went dark red and we both pretended not to hear. It was easy to pretend, because the loudspeakers were making sounds like a cat being attacked by bagpipes. We stalked past Mrs. Ward.
Usually Auntie May waits near the jumble stall until the Fête is opened, so that she can be first there; but this time we stalked past the jumble, and the rifle range, and the lucky dip, and then the bowls pitch. There was a small white piglet in a hutch to one side of the bowls. It kept pushing its snout through the chicken netting and getting stuck.
“Now, Cheryl!” Auntie May said, seeing me looking.
But I could see the piglet was not clever like Ranger and I was not interested this year.
Ranger was there, of course. He came pushing through the hedge as we were going to the flower tent. He gave me a friendly wink and trotted off into the crowd. A couple of ice cream vans had arrived, and Ranger’s plump white shape was here, there, and everywhere, begging for ice cream. Lizzie Holgate was there, handing money out in handfuls to all her six kids. All of them bought ice creams with it and most of them gave theirs straight to Ranger. Auntie May snorted at the waste and we went around the flowers. The judges had already mysteriously been there and given First Prizes to all the wrong things. We stood in the hot, squashed grass looking at the Single Rose. Auntie May was feeling better by then.
“That, Cheryl,” she said, “is the Way of Life. You have to accept it.”
The Fat Wizard had won with a scrawny yellow rose. Old Ned had put in a perfect and wonderful red rose and hadn’t won a prize at all. I didn’t feel at all like accepting it.
All this time, the Vicar’s voice kept coming over the loudspeakers saying, “One. Two. Three. Testing,” mixed with howls and squalls. As we came out of the tent, he said “Ninety-nine!” followed by a noise like God eating celery and the band started to play outside the beer tent. The Fat Wizard’s large shiny Bentley was bumping slowly across the field toward the Vicar. Auntie May and I got quickly to the back of the crowd.
“I’m sure CRUNCH CHOMP needs no introduction from THUNDERCRASH,” the loudspeakers said as the car stopped and George sprang out dressed as a chauffeur. “We are delighted SQUASH welcome CLATTER once again to TEATRAYS RUN OVER BY LORRY our little Fête.”
George opened the door of the Bentley and the Fat Wizard climbed out. He was very angry again. He puffed and he glared and he panted, and he finally got both feet out onto the grass. They sank up to the ankles as soon as he took a step. The earth quivered. He took two more steps. Music stands in front of the band fell over. By this time the Fat Wizard was walking along a small trench, sinking lower every second. He must have weighed well over a ton. His bulging blue eyes flickered angrily about looking for someone.
Auntie May said, in a mild, pleased voice, “I hope Tallulah Ward has the sense to keep out of sight.”
But Mrs. Ward was right near the edge of the crowd, easy to pick out by her red dress and the bunch of straining balloons. Her face was so pale that she had a bright red spot of makeup showing on each cheek.
Just then Lizzie Holgate came around the Bentley, pushing her pushchair and surrounded by all her kids. They seemed to be looking for a good place to stand. Jimmy and Mary had to lift the pushchair over the trench the Fat Wizard had made, so that for a second the whole family was milling around the Fat Wizard.
When they moved on again, the Fat Wizard was the right weight. He climbed easily out of his trench and he took an easy step or so. But it never occurred to him to thank the Holgates. He just glared at Mrs. Ward.
“If you’ll just come over to the microphone, sir—” the Vicar called.
But Ranger had followed the Holgates around the Bentley, hoping for more ice cream. He saw something was going on and he stood, looking about inquisitively. He looked at the Fat Wizard.
“Ah!” said the Fat Wizard. “Now I know what to do to that woman!” He pointed a fat finger at Mrs. Ward, and he shouted out something that made an even louder noise than the loudspeakers.
All Mrs. Ward’s balloons went up together in a huddle, like hair standing on end. In place of Mrs. Ward, there was suddenly a thin white pig with blobs of pink on its cheeks. It ran about among everyone’s legs, trying to get itself out of its red dress. Then it dashed into the beer tent, trailing underclothes and squealing, and there was suddenly a lot of noise from in there, too.
Everyone except Ranger looked at the Vicar, and the Vicar looked at the sky. Ranger looked at me—in a puzzled, reproachful way, as if he thought it was my fault that Mrs. Ward was knocking tables over and squealing in the beer tent.
“Where do I stand to open this silly Fête?” the Fat Wizard said.
“Oh no you won’t open the Fête!” I screamed. I couldn’t bear the way Ranger was looking. I rushed through the crowd and I stood in the open, with one hand stretched out toward the Fat Wizard and the other stretched toward Ranger. “You’re selfish and greedy and cruel!” I yelled. “Ranger would make a better human than you!”
The loudspeakers made a MOTORBIKE-STARTING-IN-HEAVEN noise. After that Ranger and the Fat Wizard seemed to have changed places. The Fat Wizard was standing where Ranger had been, staring at me with amused piggy eyes. Where the Fat Wizard had been was a very fat pig with a sort of black waistcoat marked on its white skin. This pig had blue eyes and it looked stunned.
Jimmy Holgate shouted, “Cheryl! Look out!”
George was climbing out of the Bentley. His smart chauffeur’s uniform burst off him. He leaped toward me, towering over me, huge and blue-black. The tail he always seemed to be missing was lashing round his legs, thick and hairy, with a forked tip. I was terrified.
Lizzie Holgate and her kids arrived beside me. Auntie May was there too, holding her hat on dourly. And my mother was next to Auntie May, which did surprise me, because she never goes to the Church Fête. George towered and gnashed his long teeth. W
e all shouted “Avaunt!” and the loudspeakers went SCREAM and George vanished. The poor little piglet down by the bowling pitch suddenly went mad. George had possessed it. It screamed so hard that it almost drowned the noise in the beer tent.
Ranger winked at me. “Let’s get this Fête open,” he said to the Vicar in a pleasant grunty voice, “and we can all have an ice cream.”
But Lizzie Holgate was whispering to my mother, “Can you send her somewhere where there’s no pigs around?”
Mother caught the glaring blue eye of the pig with the waistcoat. “Her Godmother. In Town,” she whispered back.
I caught the two-thirty bus outside the gate. While the bus was turning around, Old Ned let the piglet out of its hutch and it chased after the bus, foaming at the mouth, until Jimmy Holgate managed to catch it by one leg.
I have never dared to go back. Mother writes that the blue-eyed pig made such a nuisance of himself, squealing and grunting night and day, that they sent him along with George to the bacon factory some time ago. Mother has Mrs. Ward in the sty in her backyard. Even the Holgates can’t turn her back. Ranger is still living at the Big House. He opens the Church Fête every year, and Mother says you couldn’t have a nicer landlord.
No One
One morning in the year 2084, the Right Honorable Mrs. Barbara Scantion M.P. was talking to a friend in the House of Commons. “Yes, it’s school holidays,” she was saying. “My husband’s in Madrid. We got a foreign girl to look after Edward, but Edward’s just rung up to say she’s walked out again. That’s the second time this week!”
“Does that mean no one’s looking after Edward?” the friend asked.
“Yes. No one’s looking after Edward,” Mrs. Scantion said. She laughed.
A fly-on-the-wall bug recorded this conversation and it was duly passed on to the Anti-European Organization, which wished to make use of Mrs. Scantion. Unfortunately, it was entirely misunderstood.
No One was a robot—though Edward called him Nuth, short for Nothing. He was No. One in Knight Bros’s special new series of White Knights, which meant he was fitted with every latest device in robotics, including a quasi-permanent power pac, long-distance radio, and self-reprogramming. He had an AT brain (meaning Advanced Type). His silver skin would only melt at extreme high temperatures, and, what was probably more useful, he could feel with his silver fingers. His pink eyes could see in the dark. In fact, he could see anything which was not actually invisible. He was programmed both to obey orders and think for himself. He was brand-new. He cost a bomb (Mr. Scantion was very, very rich). And he knew he was utterly useless.
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