The Witch in the Woods

by Marian Broderick

  To the Nugget, with love

  CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Dedication

  1. ANNA’S MAGIC MISTAKE

  2. MRS WINKLE GETS CROSS

  3. VERBENA

  4. BACK TO CRAG ROAD

  5. VERBENA’S SECOND VISIT

  6. MRS WINKLE’S OFFICE

  7. THE SLEEPOVER

  8. VERBENA’S REVENGE

  9. IN COLDWELL WOOD

  10. A GLIMMER OF HOPE

  11. ANNA AND CHARLIE FIGHT BACK

  12. A WONDERFUL SURPRISE

  About the Author

  Copyright

  1. ANNA’S MAGIC MISTAKE

  Last Thursday started off like any other Thursday. First I overslept, then Aunty Grizz marched around the kitchen telling me off, while Aunty Wormella tried to shovel porridge into my mouth. Finally, I raced out of the house to school, buttoning my shirt as I ran.

  As the iron gates of St Munchin’s clanged shut behind me, I had a horrible thought: My maths homework was due in this morning, and I’d forgotten to do it again!

  Mrs Winkle, our head teacher, was definitely going to kill me this time. So as soon as I could, I grabbed hold of my best friend, Mary.

  ‘Can I copy your maths homework into my workbook at break?’ I whispered during register.

  ‘Forgotten it again, have we?’ she smiled. ‘Yes, of course you can.’

  But when I looked at her workbook at breaktime, there was loads of copying to do! It was going to take all day!

  And that’s when I decided to give myself a little extra help – magic help!

  You see, I’m a natural-born witch. Or, to be more precise, I’m a natural-born witch who doesn’t like doing her homework – any homework, whether it’s magic homework or normal homework.

  Being a witch and being lazy is not a good combination – especially when you’re only an apprentice like me. It makes you do really stupid things – like what I did next.

  I took our workbooks and locked myself into an empty classroom. I chalked a star shape on the floor and jumped inside. Then I opened both our workbooks, placed them on a desk, pointed one finger at each of them and made up a rhyme:

  Boring sums and squiggly signs

  Copy from her book into mine!

  I never really know whether a spell is going to work or not. It’s a bit unreliable when you’re a beginner. But this time, it was instant. I felt power surge through my legs and out through my fingers. There was a flash of blue light, and numbers started to float off the workbook pages.

  Yippee! I thought. It’s working!

  The numbers hovered in the air. The 2s and 3s started bumping into each other while the 1s formed a line and marched up and down. The 0s tried to eat the 3s and then the 4s, so the 5s got scared and started whizzing about really fast. Meanwhile the 8s and 9s just wobbled on the spot.

  Then, to my horror, the whole lot – including all the pluses and minuses – flew across the classroom and straight out of the window.

  I ran to the window and stared after the tiny figures. They bounced and swirled away across the playground, over the trees, and disappeared from sight.

  I looked back at the workbooks. They were both completely blank!

  What was I going to tell Mary? I couldn’t tell her about the magic spell, of course, because she doesn’t know I’m a witch. (After all, no-one wants to be the class weirdo!)

  I took what was left of her workbook and went to find her. She was sitting under the hazel tree in the playground.

  ‘Mary,’ I said. ‘I’m really sorry!’

  ‘Why?’ she said. ‘What have you done?’

  ‘I’m afraid I accidentally dropped your book out of the window,’ I lied. ‘And all the homework pages blew away.’

  ‘You WHAT!’ said Mary. ‘Oh, Anna! Now we’ll both get detention!’

  And that’s exactly what happened. We were kept back after school, and Mrs Winkle marched us into detention. I was worried Mary might crack and tell Mrs Winkle what I’d done – but I should have known better. She’s loyal and she kept her lips zipped.

  * * *

  After half an hour of detention torture, Mrs Winkle took off her glasses, polished them, and stood up.

  ‘Home time!’ she said. ‘Mary, go and get the coats, please.’

  Mary leapt out of her seat and raced out of 4B to the coat rack. Mrs Winkle fixed her eyes on me. I gulped.

  ‘Anna,’ she said. ‘I’d like a little word with you.’

  ‘Miss,’ I began. ‘If it’s about my maths …’

  Mrs Winkle closed her eyes and held up a plump hand.

  ‘It’s not your maths that’s troubling me the most, Anna,’ she said. ‘Although you’re not exactly top of the class.’

  ‘Yes, Miss,’ I said.

  Mrs Winkle’s voice dropped. She leaned so close to me that I could see the fine white hairs poking out of her nose.

  ‘It’s about your other work,’ she said. ‘Remember? Your other work?’

  Ah, right, my other work. I wondered when we’d get round to it.

  ‘Miss,’ I whined. ‘I’ve been really busy, and it’s summer, and …’ I trailed off.

  ‘Excuses, excuses! It’s about time you started taking it seriously, young lady,’ said Mrs Winkle. Her voice dropped to a whisper. ‘I know what really happened to your homework today. You were fooling about with magic and it went wrong!’

  You see, Mrs Winkle knows all about me being a witch. And the reason she knows all about me is simple.

  It’s because Mrs Winkle – head teacher of St Munchin’s, keen golfer, church bell-ringer, and well-respected figure in the community – is also a witch!

  2. MRS WINKLE GETS CROSS

  You’d never think it to look at us – we look quite normal. I’m small and freckly with straight brown hair, while Mrs Winkle is big and fat with a snow-white perm.

  But there we are – teacher and pupil, related by witchcraft.

  You may think it’s all about zooming around on broomsticks, or doing homework with the swish of a wand – but, believe me, it’s not that simple. Even if you have natural talent, you must practise and practise before you can control it. And then you must practise some more to increase your powers. Otherwise, it all just goes nuts.

  Mrs Winkle is always on at me to practise basic spells on my own, like tidying spells. And she goes on and on about how we should use our powers for the good of humankind. Blah, blah, blah.

  The only problem is I’m not always that interested in magic! Sometimes I just want to enjoy myself. Play a little football, muck about with my friends. You know, normal stuff.

  But there I was, standing in 4B with Mrs Winkle glaring at me. I got ready for another telling-off – and, boy, did I get one!

  First she told me I was bone-idle, and a disgrace to the ancient arts.

  Then she said there were a thousand girls who’d give their right arm to have my natural gifts, and that I didn’t deserve them.

  Then she dropped another bombshell.

  ‘You’re going to a witches’ workshop this Saturday,’ she said. ‘Goodness knows, after today’s performance, you could certainly do with the practise.’

  ‘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.

  Mrs Winkle sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

  ‘I do worry about you sometimes, Anna,’ she said. ‘No parents, living with those funny aunts of yours …’

  ‘Don’t worry about them, Miss!’ I said. ‘They let me do whatever I like …’

  ‘That’s not what I meant,’ Mrs Winkle snapped. ‘I meant that your powers will shrivel up if you don’t practise – they’ll melt away like snow!’ Mrs Winkle drew herself up to her full magnificent height. ‘I want every child in this school to do their best, Anna – whether it’s witchcraft or washing windows!’

  ‘Yes, Miss,’ I said.

  ‘That’s more like it,’ she said. ‘So I’ll expect to see you at 8 o’clock sharp at the witches’ workshop on Saturday.’

  I met Mrs Winkle’s eyes and took a deep breath. I wasn’t going to let Mary down after everything she’d done for me today.

  ‘Sorry, Miss,’ I said. ‘I’m not going.’

  Behind her glasses, Mrs Winkle’s frown deepened.

  ‘Stubborn child!’ she said. She stalked to her desk and sat down with a thump.

  I hung my head. It wasn’t the first time I’d been called stubborn.

  ‘I’m sorry, Miss,’ I said. Mrs Winkle sighed.

  ‘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.’

  I started to edge toward the door.

  ‘Off you go, then,’ she said. ‘But don’t forget what I told you!’

  ‘I won’t, Miss!’ I shouted as I raced out of the door. ‘Have a great time at the witchy whatever thingummy …’

  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.

  3. VERBENA

  I felt I had to go towards the light. That was the weird thing – it just drew you in. I stumbled into the trees like a sleepwalker. With every step I took, my ears strained for a sound, any sound. But it had gone deathly quiet in the wood. Even my footsteps were silent.

  Then I saw Mary.

  She was standing with her mouth hanging open. Her blue eyes were round and fixed onto a sickly green glow in front of her. It was like a cloud, wavering and wobbling, and I could hardly take my eyes off it. Eventually I managed to drag my gaze away and look at Mary.

  ‘Mary!’ I said. ‘Why didn’t you answer me?’

  I stood in front of her and waved my hand in front of her face. Her eyes didn’t blink.

  ‘Mary?’ I said. ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘I think you’ll find,’ said a silky voice behind me, ‘that I’m the matter.’

  I spun around and nearly dropped dead with shock. A tiny, thin woman was standing right in the middle of the green glow – and she seemed to be part of it!

  The woman’s skin was as pale as the moon. She was wearing a tatty greenish dress and carried a green wand. Even her hair looked green! But the scariest part of her face was her round, black eyes. They stared and stared at me …

  ‘What the …’ I stammered. ‘I mean, who are you?’

  ‘You may not know who I am, Anna Kelly,’ the woman said. ‘But I know all about you.’ She smiled, showing pointy white teeth. ‘Not to mention your natural-born talent.’

  I licked my dry lips. How did she know about that?

  ‘What have you done to Mary?’ I said, trying not to let my voice wobble.

  ‘I’ve just put her in a little trance, that’s all,’ the woman said. She stepped out of the green glow and stood in front of me. ‘I needed to get you alone to ask a favour. Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Verbena.’

  I began to feel ill. Verbena was clearly magical, but something wasn’t right about her. She gave off a sour-milk smell. And there were those dark, staring eyes …

  ‘We need you, Anna,’ she said. ‘We need you to help us – just this once.’

  ‘Us?’ I said.

  ‘The coven,’ she said.

  ‘The what?’ I said.

  ‘Dear me! You don’t even know what a coven is?’ said Verbena. ‘And you a natural-born witch? It’s a group of witches, Anna. There are usually thirteen, but one fell off her broomstick at 1,000 metres, so now we are only twelve.’

  ‘If you don’t mind me saying so, Miss,’ I said in a small voice. ‘Twelve witches sounds like plenty to me!’

  Verbena’s smile vanished.

  ‘Well, it’s not enough!’ she snapped. ‘We need thirteen witches to cast a spell at the full moon on Saturday night. You are going to help us.’

  ‘You must be joking!’ I said, backing away. Hanging out with a load of witches wasn’t exactly my idea of a brilliant Saturday night.

  ‘It’s my birthday,’ said Verbena.

  ‘Happy birthday for Saturday,’ I said, trying to make my voice sound chirpy. ‘We’ve really got to be getting along now …’

  ‘I am going to be a hundred years old,’ continued Verbena, ignoring me. ‘I have to do a special spell with twelve others in the light of the full moon on Saturday night. If I succeed, I will live another hundred years, and become the most powerful witch in the western woods!’

  ‘But what’s that got to do with me?’ I said.

  Verbena reached out and wrapped her thin hand around my arm.

  ‘We need youth,’ she said. ‘Even better, youth and magic – what a combination! A young witch like you, plenty of life force for us to suck out – I mean, borrow.’

  Her fingers tightened on my arm and she pushed her face close to mine.

  ‘Maybe this time, I’ll get more than a hundred years!’ she said. ‘Maybe this time, I’ll live FOREVER!!’

  Verbena threw back her head and screeched with ear-splitting laughter. It sounded like nails scraping a blackboard, and I started to struggle in her grip. Verbena stopped laughing suddenly and let me go.

  ‘Of course, there’s a certain amount of risk,’ she said, examining her long fingernails. ‘There always is with magic. That’s why we chose you – you’ll be able to handle
it. Probably.’

  I gulped and took a deep breath. I knew I had to be careful what I said next – and how I said it.

  ‘I’m sorry, Miss,’ I said politely. ‘I’m afraid I can’t help you. I’m only training. If you really want to know, I’m not even that interested in magic!’

  Verbena stared at me for a moment. Then she glided towards Mary and placed a hand on her shoulder.

  ‘I suggest you change your mind, Anna,’ she said. ‘Or I may have to take other, less pleasant steps …’

  I felt panic rising in my stomach.

  ‘What do you mean?’ I whispered.

  Verbena smirked.

  ‘If you don’t come of your own free will and complete our circle,’ she said, ‘we might have to steal away your little friend here. She’s not a witch, of course, but she’s nice and young and plump. She will do in an emergency.’

  ‘You can’t do that!’ I shouted. ‘That’s not fair!’

  I may not be the best witch in the world, but I knew Mary wouldn’t last five minutes with this crowd.

  Verbena’s laugh was mocking.

  ‘I’ll never let you get to her, never!’ I shouted.

  ‘You can’t be with her all the time, Anna Kelly,’ said Verbena. She stepped back into the green glow, and started to fade away. I could just make out through the shimmer that she was still laughing.

  ‘You or her, Anna,’ she said. ‘Make your choice!’

  The green glow dwindled to a point of green light. Then went pop! and was gone.

  4. BACK TO CRAG ROAD

  I shook Mary by the shoulders.

  ‘Anna?’ she said, rubbing her eyes. ‘What are you up to?’

  ‘Are you OK?’ I said.

  Mary laughed.

  ‘Of course!’ she said. She put her arm around me. ‘Aah, diddums! Did you get frightened when I ran away?’