Witch's Business Page 11

  He managed to hop clear. By the time Jess got to the corner of the house, Vernon was picking himself up from among a tumble of rusty iron. The drainpipe was leaning away from the side of the house. Vernon looked up at it.

  “We wrecked this house,” he said uneasily. “I think we’d better go.”

  “It was a wreck, anyway,” Jess said.

  “Now they’ve got to mend it,” Frankie agreed, wiping smelly black mud off her fingers onto her apron.

  Martin called down to know if Vernon was dead, but before Jess could call back, the two people running across the field came pelting up, shouting, “She’s gone! She went out!”

  They were Buster and Stafford, both soaking wet and both looking very much more cheerful.

  “Been gone ten minutes now,” said Buster. “Hurry!”

  “Went like a rat up a drainpipe up the London Road,” said Stafford. “You got ten minutes clear. Come on.”

  “London Road!” said Vernon. “I hope she’s not after Silas.”

  “Or Kevin,” said Jess.

  “Get that tooth and we’ll go on after her,” said Buster. “I promised Stafford to look after Kevin, anyway. Who made this disemboweled mess?” The wrecked gutter and the leaning drainpipe were enough to catch Buster’s attention in spite of his hurry.

  “Vernon,” said Jenny.

  Buster looked at Vernon rather admiringly, Jess thought. Then he shouted up at the roof, “Get an ax-murdered move on, can’t you!”

  It was like magic. He had hardly said it when first Frank, then Martin, shot off the roof and landed in a tangle at their feet. Jess could not believe they were not hurt, but they seemed to be all right.

  They untangled, and Frank said, “I didn’t mean that fast, you idiot!”

  “Sorry,” said Martin. “The chimney broke.”

  Jess was horrified at all the damage, but Frankie and Jenny seemed quite unconcerned.

  “They shouldn’t have let it get so rotten,” Frankie said.

  “That’ll teach them,” Jenny said. “Good boys. You’re dirty, though.”

  They were dirty. Frank and Martin were black with soot. Vernon was grayish white. Jess supposed it was the same dirt showing up differently.

  “You can’t talk, Jenny Adams,” said Stafford. “Come on.”

  Jenny looked down at herself caked with thick black mud and did not answer. She came limping along after the others. Jess seized her oozy fingers to help her hurry, because, as soon as everyone was ready, Buster and Stafford went off at a hard run, back across the field, toward the river and the rainbow. The rainbow faded as they ran. No one had time to notice it, however, or breath for talking, until they reached the footbridge over the river.

  Then Jess called out to Buster, “How are the Things?”

  “Gone,” Buster called back. “Went as soon as she went off.”

  “Good,” Jess called, but she could not help feeling nervous. Biddy might have taken the Things off the gang because the gang had brought Frank and her to the hut. Still, she might only have thought they had been punished enough. Jess hoped that was the reason while she pulled Jenny across the bridge and along the path toward Biddy’s hut.

  The other seven boys in the gang were waiting by the heap of broken bicycles beyond Biddy’s bare patch. They were very nervous. One of them shouted to them to hurry as soon as they were in sight.

  “We’ll keep guard,” said Buster. “You go on in and get it.”

  It was plain that nothing would possess the gang to go into the hut. Frank looked at it, across the wall of petrol drums. It seemed harmless and broken enough. The cockerel was sitting on the roof. The door seemed to be half open. Getting the tooth seemed the easiest thing on earth, except that Frank had a feeling that it all seemed too good to be true. Vernon felt the same.

  “You swear she really is out?” he said to Buster.

  Not only Buster but the whole gang swore—in both senses—that Biddy had gone out. Ray Briggs and Squeaky Voice had trailed her most of the way to the London Road.

  “All right,” said Vernon. Then he looked at Frank. “All go in?” he asked.

  Frank nearly said no. Then he remembered the Eyes, their secret weapon. “Jess and I’ll go with you,” he said.

  “So will I,” said Martin.

  “And we’re going,” said Jenny, “because we think the necklace is in there.”

  So the six of them went bravely in between the petrol drums, while the gang, with an expert mutter or two, spread out round the hut and along the riverbank to keep watch. The bare patch was the same as before, except that it was not quite so airless. The rain had given it a fresher smell, for which they were all glad. Just as before, the black hens scrambled away to their hutch. And, also just as before, the cat ran across the space, crouching and cringing.

  Vernon and Martin both stamped and shouted to frighten the cat away. Jess thought it was rather cruel of them, but she could see they did it because they were frightened themselves. The cat did not waste time understanding the boys. It bolted for its life, over the wall of drums and off along the riverbank. As soon as it was gone, they went to the half-open door of the hut and tried to get in.

  The door was too broken to shut properly. Nor would it open easily. Frank and Martin had to take hold of it and heave it up on its rusty hinges. Then it opened. And nothing happened. No witchcraft seemed to stop them. They all crowded through, into a tiny, dirty, fuggy, dark room which smelled worse than the whole waste patch rolled into one small space.

  “Pooh!” said Martin.

  There were cobwebs and cobwebs, and boxes round the walls. There was a tiny, filthy window, through which they could see Stafford watching anxiously. Jess wondered where Biddy slept. There was no sign of a bed. But it was only a passing wonder because on a box in the middle of the hut was what they were looking for. There was a dirty old teacup on the box, full of strange purple fire which made a whispering noise as it leaped and licked in a neat pointed shape. It was neat and pointed except for the end of the flame, which was split into two, like a forked tongue. Over the cup, there was a thread hanging from the ceiling, and tied to the end of the thread was a small white thing, arranged to dangle between the two prongs of flame.

  “That’s it!” said Frank.

  Vernon made a dash for it. He put his hand right into the flame, snatched at the tooth, and pulled.

  And the thread would not break. It looked just like cotton, the way it draped over Vernon’s hand as he pulled it clear of the forked flame, but it must have been as strong as steel. Vernon could not seem to break it. He tried frantically and, as he tried, he said things he must have learned from Buster, and his face went a strange color.

  “It hurts!” he said.

  “Like the lock,” said Martin. “Let it go.”

  “I can’t!” said Vernon, and to their horror, tears came pouring down his face.

  “Quick, Frank!” said Jess. “The Eyes. You get the other side of him.”

  They both dived for Vernon. Frank, as he dived, kicked the box by mistake. The teacup fell over on its side, but it went on burning just the same, in a forked cone, and did not seem to set fire to the box. Jess put one hand on Vernon’s arm and took hold of the thread with the other. As soon as she touched it, she knew why Vernon had used those words. It was like holding a red-hot poker.

  “Better,” said Vernon. “I still can’t let go.”

  “Frank!” shouted Jess. “Help me break this thread!”

  Frank put his hand on the thread, too—and yelled. They began a mad and muddled struggle, with Jess, Frank, and Vernon all trying to break the thread one-handed, and the Piries trying at the same time to keep hold of Vernon in case the Eyes helped him. After a moment, Martin took hold of Vernon, too, by his waist, and tugged. It seemed to hurt him also, through Vernon. He said a bad word as well. And, as he said it, all four of them realized that they could not let go.

  “Shall we pull, too?” offered Frankie.

  “No
!” snapped Jess. “Don’t you dare! Hunt for the necklace.”

  Frankie and Jenny, although they looked both hurt and alarmed, began obediently to turn out the boxes round the walls of the hut.

  “What shall we do?” said Frank.

  “Go backward,” said Martin, without taking his teeth apart. “Pull. Get it loose if we have to have the roof down.”

  “Right,” said Jess, and they all heaved, towing Vernon, who did not seem to be able to do anything. They went back a step, and they went back another. Then they went back three steps, in a rush, and still the thread was fastened to the ceiling, and they were fastened to the thread.

  “One more,” said Martin. “Now—heave!”

  They heaved with all their strength. The thread snapped with a twang that sent them backward again with another rush. They had staggered ten steps before they could stop. Each step, they expected to hit the wall of the hut and, each step, there was nothing behind them at all. It was not until they had managed to stop that they looked round to find themselves in a space as vast as an airplane hangar, full of gray light and shuffling echoes. Some of the echoes were the footsteps of Frankie and Jenny, who came rushing toward them with their eyes huge with fright.

  “What’s happened?” said Jenny. “Why has it gone big?”

  Other people were shouting the same thing. They saw Stafford and Buster running up from another direction, looking as frightened as the little girls. The rest of the gang were blundering about behind them, and Squeaky Voice was screaming.

  “Christmas!” said Martin. “I think we’ve all bought it.”

  TWELVE

  There was a time when everybody was shouting and talking at once.

  “How the curried vampires did we get in here?” Stafford kept saying to Jess. “We was outside. I tell you, we was outside.”

  “There ain’t no door!” shouted several other people.

  “I swear it ain’t got nothing to do with us,” Buster said.

  “Safety device,” Frank said to Martin. “Built into the magic.”

  “Yes,” said Martin. “Break one spell, and we set another going.”

  “It’s a trap, I tell you! It’s a sliming trap!” said Ray.

  Jess was half deafened by the noise and by the way everyone’s voices echoed. She said nothing at all and kept hold of Vernon, who was also saying nothing.

  “He all right?” said Buster, looking at Vernon.

  Vernon was a better color, but he seemed to be dazed. He held out his hand, which was still curled round the tooth. “It doesn’t hurt,” he said. “It’s sort of numb. But I still can’t let go.”

  “Good,” said Jenny. “Then Biddy can’t get it.”

  Vernon did not answer, although he tried to smile. Jess suspected he was wondering what would happen if he never could let go, and had to hold the tooth in his right hand forever. It would be like being a cripple. It was not a nice thought.

  “Shall we have a go pulling his hand open?” Buster offered.

  “Later,” said Vernon. “Let’s try to get out first.”

  This raised a wail from the rest of the gang. “There ain’t no door!”

  “There’s walls, though,” said Vernon. “And there’s crowds of us.”

  “Yes,” said Martin. “Let’s try rushing at the walls. Come on, everyone. Charge.”

  “Charge!” shouted the gang. “Charge!” screamed Frankie and Jenny. Everyone set out at a run toward the nearest huge wall, yelling and stamping like savages. Fifteen people, even if some of them were small, would surely be able to burst out of a place like this, whatever it was.

  They ran and they shouted. Then they left off shouting and just ran. After a while, they became too breathless to run, and they trotted. The trot slowed to a walk, and the walk to standing still. They stood in a scared and panting crowd and looked at the nearest wall. It was as far away as ever. For all the good their running had done, they might not have started.

  “This is silly!” said Jess.

  “You got to remember,” Stafford said, “she’s a maggot-gutting witch.”

  Jenny burst into tears. So did the smaller boys in the gang. Ray sniffed. Martin’s face twisted into lumps and all his freckles showed. Jess found her eyes were hot and prickly. It was frightening to see what a strong witch Biddy must be.

  “I say,” Frank whispered to her, “these Eyes don’t seem to do much good, do they?”

  “No,” Jess said miserably. “They don’t.” As far as she could see, the Eyes did not even stop the gang coming near them now. But then, she thought, that was probably because the gang was not evil anymore. They were just nine damp, dirty, scared boys. Buster was able to come right up beside her.

  “What’ll we do now?” he said.

  “Heaven only knows,” said Jess.

  “Let’s sit down, anyway,” said Martin. “Let’s not give in.”

  With a great deal of shuffling and thumping, everyone sat down cross-legged in a ring. Jess found Frankie and Jenny one on each side of her. She put an arm around each of them and did, almost, feel as if she was their big sister. It was comfortable like that, even though there were great echoing spaces all round them. Everyone in the circle pressed up against the people next to them and felt cheered by feeling they were not alone.

  “But,” said Buster, “what’ll we do when she comes? She’s zombie-juiced well caught us, ain’t she?”

  “Not give in,” Martin said again. “She may be a jolly strong witch, but that’s no reason why she should have it all her own way. She’s got no right to keep us here, has she? If she keeps us here very long, our parents are going to start looking for us, and then they’ll find out what she’s like. So I vote we keep cheerful and don’t let her frighten us. Stand up to her. After all, we’re fifteen to one.”

  “Cheek her, you mean?” said Frank.

  “We mustn’t make her angry,” said Jess. “Every time we make her angry, she does something worse.”

  “I didn’t mean make her angry, actually,” said Martin. “I just meant not be frightened. Maybe we can think of some way to get round her.”

  “Yes,” said Stafford. “You Piries better think of some way to get round her. Us lot’ll back you up.”

  “Back ’em up!” said Buster dejectedly. “Like bowel pancakes we do! The moment Biddy gets here, she’ll have us lot her servants again. What can we do?”

  “No, she won’t,” said Vernon. “I got the tooth. You’re my servants now.”

  Perhaps it was the way he said it, or perhaps it was just the idea, but as soon as Vernon spoke, everyone burst out laughing. The echoes took the laughter up, until the whole huge space was filled with laughing. And, when the echoes died down, everyone was in much better spirits.

  “Down with Biddy!” said Jess. “Three cheers for us!”

  “Let’s sing,” suggested Jenny.

  Ray and Squeaky Voice began:

  “Old Biddy is a funny ’un

  With a face like a pickled onion—”

  Before they could get any farther, the echoes boomed, and Biddy herself came hurrying up to them in great swooping strides, very much out of breath and even more out of temper.

  “I have had about enough of you children,” she said. “How dare you keep interfering like this! First you poke your noses in where you’re not wanted, and now you burgle my house. I’ll have you know you’ve interrupted me in something very important indeed.”

  “We’re sorry,” said Martin, perhaps not as politely as he could.

  “Sorry be blowed!” said Biddy. “And I have to come running back to deal with you instead. You’re very naughty little boys and girls!” She ran all round outside their circle, swooping and puffing, flapping her plimsolls on the ground, shaking her skinny plaits and peering through her thick glasses. Everyone found her frightening, but they found her rather silly, too.

  Somebody gave out a whisper, “Nose like a squashed tomato!” Everyone giggled.

  “That will do!”
said Biddy. “I can see I shall have to teach you a lesson—all of you. Why are there so many of you? You’d think all the brats in town had broken into my hut. Which is which?”

  Quite suddenly, Biddy hopped over the heads of Ray and Squeaky Voice and arrived in the middle of their ring. Everybody moved back a little. Biddy chuckled.

  “You must have got your charms wrong, if you were trying for an enchanted circle,” she said. “Here I am, you see.” She began peering round at their faces, muttering: “Who have we got? Who have we here?” until she had picked out Frank and Jess. “You,” she said. “I gave you two a clear warning not to steal my business. Own Back indeed! Don’t you realize that’s witch’s business, not yours?”

  “Yes. That’s why we’ve given it up,” said Jess.

  “Given it up!” said Biddy. “You’re still meddling.”

  “Because we’re putting it right,” said Frank.

  “I’ll put you right, my lad,” said Biddy. “You’ll be lucky to get out of here alive, all of you. As for you—” Biddy pounced round on Buster, who moved back rather quickly. “As for you, you great blubbering bully, you’ve hardly been my servant three days before you’re whining to get out of it. Don’t you have any stuffing, boy? I’ve a good mind to set you emptying the river with a teaspoon, just to show you who’s your mistress.”

  “You try it,” said Buster. “You just try it! You’ve not got the disemboweled tooth.”

  Biddy put her hands on her hips. “We’ll see about that,” she said. Then she swung around and came swooping down on Vernon. For a moment, she peered at him through her glasses. Vernon stared back at her. Then, slowly, Biddy reached up and took off her glasses. She looked quite different without them: all shriveled, mean, and snakelike. Things were suddenly very much more frightening.

  Frankie squeaked, “She did that to Jenny. Stop her!”

  “Please, Miss Iremonger,” said Jess, “let us go. Please. We haven’t done any harm. Go back to your important business and we won’t say a word.”