by Kaye Umansky
“Bin a long time,” said Mrs. Eckles. “I see you’re still wearin’ daft shoes.”
“It has,” agreed Mesmeranza. “And just look at you. I don’t believe you look a day younger.”
“I take it all this is your doin’?” Mrs. Eckles gestured at the chaos surrounding them.
“Yes, as a matter of fact,” said Mesmeranza. “Didn’t I do well?”
“Well, I can see you’re pleased with yerself,” said Mrs. Eckles, adding, “O’ course, it’s easy when you got all of Grandmother’s old stuff. I see you got the Wand. Used the Poncho of Imperceptibility, did you? I’ll bet the Hypnospecs and the Weather Umbrella featured in there somewhere, eh?”
“So? It’s up to me what methods I use.”
“Shame you can’t do nothin’ unless you got all the gear.”
“You’re just jealous,” snapped Mesmeranza. “Jealous because Grandmother left it all to me. And now I’ve got the cottage too. You know the rule. The moment I stepped over the threshold, I made it my own.”
“Yes, and look at it. Just a pile o‘rubble. Always was a wrecker, wasn’t you? An’ after Clover’d got it lookin’ so nice an’ all.”
“Well, pile of rubble it may be, but it’s my pile of rubble now. Step aside.”
“I don’t think so,” said Mrs. Eckles, planting her feet more firmly and folding her arms.
“No?” With a thin smile, Mesmeranza raised the Wand.
“Don’t you raise that Wand at me,” said Mrs. Eckles, adding threateningly “I’ll stare. Then you’ll be sorry. Remember what happened when you snatched the shovel off me that time?”
“Ah, but I didn’t have Grandmother’s Wand then …”
CRAAAAAAAAAAAACK!
A massive thunderclap shook the heavens. Booboo reared and let out a mad, panicked neigh as a shaft of lightning forked down, setting fire to a small bush and plunging into the ground inches away from the fallen cherry tree. Black smoke boiled up from the hole …
And suddenly there was somebody else in the already overcrowded garden.
It was a tiny, bent, incredibly old woman. She was dressed in an old, knobbly dressing gown, and her feet were stuffed into carpet slippers. Her gray hair was twisted around little paper curlers, and she was leaning on a stick.
“Crikey,” Wilf whispered to Clover. “Who’s this?”
“I don’t know,” said Clover, “but she certainly knows how to make an entrance.”
The old woman stared around at the assembled company. She noticed the burning bush, twiddled her fingers, and instantly the fire went out. Her eyes fell on the Wand in Mesmeranza’s hand. She pointed a gnarled finger.
“Drop it! Now!”
“Oh,” gulped Mesmeranza. The Wand dropped from her fingers.
“And you!” The finger pointed at Mrs. Eckles. “Stop the staring!”
Mrs. Eckles unfolded her arms and sheepishly shuffled her feet. Together, looking and sounding rather like naughty children, they chorused, “Hello, Grandmother.”
Wilf and Clover stared at each other in astonishment.
“But I thought she was …”
“So did I. Shhh.”
“I’m not staying long,” said the old woman. “The podiatrist is coming to do my feet.”
Behind her, Booboo was pawing the ground and making snorting noises. Without even looking, she reached behind her and smacked him smartly on the nose.
“And that’s enough from you,” she said, and Booboo meekly subsided.
“Well, this is a surprise, Grandmother,” said Mesmeranza.
“Yes,” said Grandmother. “Not a good one, though.”
“Oh, but it is. Isn’t it, Demelza?”
“Oh, yes,” agreed Mrs. Eckles. “Lovely to see you, Grandmother. How are things in the Twilight Home for Retired Witches? Looking after you, are they?”
“What do you care? You haven’t come to see me, either of you.”
“You said you didn’t want us to,” objected Mesmeranza. “We asked about visiting hours, and you said you didn’t want us showing up with a daft bunch of flowers.”
“True,” said Grandmother. “I don’t like flowers, and I can’t be bothered with your everlasting squabbling. Couldn’t believe it when I saw you were still at it after all this time.”
“Saw, Grandmother?” said Mrs. Eckles. “You—er—been watchin’ us, then?”
“Oh yes. They’ve installed one of those newfangled Communal Scrying Screens in the lounge. We all tune in and take turns watching what our trashy relations are up to. Pretty shocking viewing it is too.”
“Er—how long have you been watching, exactly?” asked Mesmeranza, uncomfortably.
“Long enough. I would have left the pair of you to get on with it, but it’s all gotten out of hand, hasn’t it? That’s why I’m here, even though I’m missing bingo. I’m supposed to be retired, remember? Do you think I’m in the mood for all this? Look at the state of that cottage!”
“Well, we all know who’s to blame for that,” Mrs. Eckles put in. “Nothing wrong with it before she tricked her way in. Using all your things, Grandmother.”
“So?” Mesmeranza glared. “A Witch takes what she wants by fair means or foul. You taught us that, Grandmother. I wanted the cottage, so I took it.”
“Yes, and smashed it up in the process,” said Mrs. Eckles, tartly.
“Oh, pipe down you two,” snapped Grandmother. “You might want to take a cue from these kids over here. See how quiet they are?”
Her green eyes swiveled to Clover and Wilf, who tried looking even quieter. Old and tiny as she was, there was something very frightening about Grandmother.
“But—” began Mrs. Eckles.
“But—” started Mesmeranza.
“I said enough!” Grandmother took a large pocket watch out of her dressing gown pocket. “Look at the time. The tea cart’s due. I can’t stay around here. This is what’s going to happen. Mesmeranza, you’re going to get on Booboo and go. I think we’ve all had quite enough of you for the time being.”
“Oh, so I’m the bad one in all this, am I?” cried Mesmeranza.
“Well, yes, obviously. You want to be, don’t you? That’s your style, isn’t it?”
“Oh.” Mesmeranza looked thoughtful. “Yes. Of course it is. I see what you mean.”
“There you go, then. You haven’t got your own way this time, but sometimes good wins out over bad. That’s life. Get over it. And when you get back, you’d better get the castle sorted out. I’ve seen the terrible state it’s in. The next time I tune in I want to see it like I left it. Go on, off you go.”
Everyone watched as Mesmeranza turned and stalked over to Booboo, who unhelpfully backed away. She seized him by the mane, and he tried to nip her. She stood on an upturned flower pot, wobbling on her shoes, and pulled herself astride. Then she glared down and pointed a red-taloned finger.
“You wait!” she hissed. “I’ll be back! I may have lost this time, but …”
“Ah, enough with the vengeful speeches,” said Grandmother. “Just be quiet and go. Up, Booboo!”
Booboo went up. He took a leap into the air, extended his wings, and rose into the dark sky. In seconds, he was a tiny speck—and then he was gone.
A single red, high-heeled shoe came hurtling down through the air and fell with a plop on the ground at Mrs. Eckles’s feet.
“Hah!” said Mrs. Eckles. She drew back her foot and kicked it triumphantly over the fence.
“And you can stop looking so smug, Demelza,” said Grandmother. “You haven’t come out of this looking so smart. You should have guessed there was something shady going on when all them free cakes started turning up. Thought I’d trained you better than that.”
“I know,” said Mrs. Eckles, ruefully “Sorry Grandmother.”
“Don’t do it again. And take better care of the cottage. Look at the state of it. I hope you’re ashamed.”
“I am,” said Mrs. Eckles. “Urn—any chance you could give us a qui
ck hand fixin’ it? I know how good you are at this sorta thing. Clover an’ Wilf’d like to see how it’s done, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes, please,” chorused Clover and Wilf, obediently.
“You can stop sucking up. Flattery doesn’t work with me. But—well, all right. I’ll help you out just this once. You, girl! Pass me my Wand.”
Grandmother pointed to the Wand, which lay abandoned on the ground. Clover ran over and picked it up gingerly. It was buzzing a bit. Hastily, she put it into Grandmother’s outstretched hand.
“Must say it feels good to have it in my hand again,” said Grandmother thoughtfully. There was something—dark in her voice.
“Now then,” said Mrs. Eckles, rather nervously. “You’re using it for good this time, remember?”
“You’re right,” said Grandmother with a little sigh. “I am. Stand back, away from the tree. Move into a space where you won’t get clonked.”
She waved her Wand …
… and showed them how it was done.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
How It Ends
It was evening. Clover, Wilf, and Mrs. Eckles sat in the garden, enjoying the last of the sun’s rays. The sky was red. A blackbird was singing. It was all very peaceful. They were drinking tea and staring at the cottage.
The cottage stared back—but in a good way. It had an air of contentment. It had a new chimney. There was new glass in all the windows. The thatch was thick and yellow. Fresh creepers had twined up, covering the back wall, which was free of cracks. The doorstep had been whitened, and the back door had a coat of smart green paint. The whole thing wasn’t slumped to one side. It stood straighter and taller.
The garden was well again, too. The cherry tree was back in the ground and awash with pink blossom. The bird feeder hung from the lowest branch. It was stuffed with nuts. The outhouse was the right way up, and the log pile was tidy. Neville lay asleep on the bench, his head on Mrs. Eckles’s knees. Flo and Doris were back, admiring their new coop, which was much better than the last one.
“It all looks so much better,” said Clover. “She did an amazing job, didn’t she? To do all that in the blink of an eye.”
“Well, yes,” agreed Mrs. Eckles. “We was lucky, though. Could ’ave gone either way. She’s mellowed, but you still never know with her.”
“It’s a shame she just disappeared. She could have stayed for supper.”
“Oh, you wouldn’t want her for supper. You can’t trust ‘er. She might be retired, but she’s still a Witch. Notice she pocketed the old Wand? I bet she plays havoc with that at the Twilight ’Ome. They don’t allow weapons. I s‘pose I’ll have to drop in on ’er sometime soon. I won’t take flowers, though.”
“I’ll make some biscuits,” said Clover. “You can take those.”
They all sipped their tea and carried on admiring the garden, which was bathed in an orange glow.
“The front’s just the same,” said Wilf. “It’s a shame she didn’t improve that.”
“Why should she? This is a Witch’s cottage. Like I keep tellin’ Clover, it’s supposed to be frightenin’ at the front.”
“But it’s still got the same gate. I went and checked. It’s gone back to being bad tempered again. Told me to take my hand off and squashed my fingers.”
“Yeah, well, I’m gonna replace that meself,” said Mrs. Eckles. “Soon as I get round to it.”
Somehow, though, Clover didn’t think she would.
“I’m going to go in and start getting supper ready,” said Clover, standing up.
She was looking forward to that. Not only was the cottage improved on the outside, but the inside was immaculate as well. Everything was perfectly clean and tidy. The fallen beam was back in place for Wilf to bang his head on (which he had, of course, the moment he first walked in). Everything that had been broken was either mended or replaced. The furniture was back in its proper place, and she had noticed a lot of new, interesting food items in the well-stocked larder.
“I’ll join you,” said Mrs. Eckles. “It’s gettin’ chilly. Will you stay for supper, Wilf? I wanna hear all yer adventures in detail. Reckon you an’ Clover’ve got a lot to tell me. I’d like to ’ear both versions.”
“I ought to go home,” said Wilf, reluctantly. “Grampy’ll be frantic by now. I’ve got a lot of explaining to do.”
“I’ll drop ‘im a note,” said Mrs. Eckles. “I’ll remind ’im about ‘ow ’e used to come over and steal me cherries. That’ll shut ’im up.”
All three of them walked to the cottage door, with Neville winding around their feet. Wilf tripped over him and dropped his cup on the doorstep. It smashed into pieces.
“Ooops. Sorry about that.”
“Leave it,” said Clover. “I’ll see to it later.”
They went in, closing the door behind them.
Out in the garden, the last rays of the sun hit the very top tips of the cherry tree. And then, slowly, dusk came, bringing owls and night noises. The moon rose and the stars came out. Orange—dark blue—silver.
Wilf finally left and went home to face the wrath of Grampy Somehow, he didn’t think Mrs. Eckles’s note would help. It said:
To ThE ChERRy nikkeR. LEEv the lad alon EE Dun gud.
Neville came out and strolled off into the forest while Mrs. Eckles locked up the chickens and stood for a moment under the cherry tree, looking up at the sky. A small, triumphant smile was on her face.
“Hah!” she said. “Think you can beat me, do you? I don’t think so.”
Then she went back in again. There came the sound of bolts being drawn.
Some time later, Clover Twig stood at her bedroom window in her nightdress, staring out into the darkness. She was thinking that she would wear her blue dress tomorrow. The green one was more than ready for a wash. She would do that while Mrs. Eckles set up a new batch of protection spells. And then, because everything was perfectly clean and tidy, she would take the rest of the day off and visit home. She was sure everyone would have a thousand questions to ask. She would have to be careful how she answered them. She didn’t want to lose the job, after all. It was interesting, keeping house for a Witch.
She rubbed her eyes, yawned widely, drew the curtain, and finally flopped into bed.
At some time during the night, something arrived on the doorstep.
It was a box of carrots, parsnips, onions and potatoes.
Root vegetables.
So. What do we make of that?
The End
KAYE UMANSKY is the author of many books for young readers, including The Silver Spoon of Solomon Snow. She lives in London with a nice husband (Mo), a nice daughter (Ella), and two crazy cats (Heathcliff and Jeremy). She works in a tiny office with a starry ceiling, she gets lovely letters from children and tries to answer them all, and unlike Clover Twig, Kaye is deathly afraid of heights.
DESIGN BY SCOTT MYLES
JACKET ILLUSTRATION COPYRIGHT©2009
BY JOHANNA WRIGHT
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
ROARING BROOK PRESS
NEW YORK
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Text copyright © 2008 Kaye Umansky Illustrations copyright © 2009 Johanna Wright
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eISBN 9781429963787
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First Edition August 2009
e Magical Cottage
