Not Just a Witch

‘Exactly. It’s very simple. Animals are not wicked. It is people who are wicked. So you might think wicked people should be killed.’

‘Yes . . . I suppose so.’

‘However, killing is bad. It is wicked. And I’m not a wicked witch, I’m a good witch. And I do good by turning wicked people into animals.’

She leant back, pleased with herself, and took a sip of hot water.

Daniel stared at her. ‘You mean . . . you changed Basil into a dog? Into that lovely dog?’

‘Yes, I did. I’m so glad you liked it. I adore bulldogs; the way they snuffle and snort, and those deep chests. When you take a bulldog on a ship, you have to face them upwind because their noses are so flat. It’s the only way they can breathe. Of course, when I changed that dreadful baby, I was just limbering up. Wellbridge is a little damp, being so low-lying, and I wasn’t sure how it would affect my Knuckle of Power.’ She stuck out her left hand and showed him a purple swelling on the joint. ‘If you get rheumatism on your knuckle it can make things very tricky. But it all went like a dream. I really did it for that pretty friend of yours – so polite, and such a nice shop her parents keep with everything higgledy-piggledy, not like those boring supermarkets. Poor children, I thought, they’re going to have such a horrible evening.’

‘Yes, but you see it’s going to be much more horrible if the Boothroyds come and find Basil gone. There’ll be such trouble. So, please, could you change Basil back? If you can?’

‘If I can?’ said the witch, looking offended. ‘Really, Daniel, you go too far. And actually I was going to change Basil back in any case, sooner or later, because babies aren’t really wicked. To be wicked you have to know right from wrong and choose wrong, and babies can’t do that. But I cannot believe that the Boothroyds wouldn’t rather have the little dog for a night or two. He’s completely housetrained, did you know?’

‘Honestly, Miss Tenbury-Smith, I’m sure they wouldn’t. I’m really sure.’

‘Extraordinary,’ said the witch, shaking her head to and fro. ‘Well, in that case, let’s see what we can do. Just wait while I change my clothes.’

Chapter Four

‘Well, you seem to be right,’ said Heckie as they approached The Towers. ‘The dear Boothroyds do not sound happy.’

All the lights were on and one could hear Mrs Boothroyd’s screams halfway down the street.

‘Oh, poor Sumi!’

‘Now don’t worry,’ said the witch, who had changed into her school blazer and pleated skirt. ‘I shall pretend to be a social worker. That always goes down well. Just follow me.’

Inside the Boothroyds’ sitting-room, a fat policeman was writing things in a notebook and a thin policeman was talking to headquarters on his walkie-talkie. Mrs Boothroyd was yelling and hiccupping and gulping by turns, and Mr Boothroyd was blustering and threatening to do awful things to Sumi’s family. Sumi sat crouched on the sofa, her head in her hands. Between her shoes one could just see the dark, wet nose of the bewildered little dog.

‘Now, my dear good people, what is all this about?’ enquired Heckie briskly. ‘I found this poor boy wandering about in the street quite beside himself.’ She pointed to the letters WAW on her blazer. ‘I am from the Wellbridge Association for Welfare,’ she went on, ‘and we cannot be doing with that kind of thing.’

‘My baby’s been kidnapped! My little treasure! My bobbikins!’ screeched Mrs Boothroyd.

‘And it’s all these children’s fault!’ roared Mr Boothroyd.

‘Nonsense,’ said Heckie. ‘He’ll just have got mislaid somewhere. It often happens with babies.’

‘We’ve searched high and low, Miss,’ said the fat policeman.

But the little bulldog had heard Heckie’s voice. He crawled out from under the sofa and as she crouched down to him, he leapt on to her lap.

‘Who let that brute in again?’ raged Mr Boothroyd – and Sumi blushed and turned her head away.

‘Dogs give you fleas! They give you worms behind the eyeballs,’ screeched Mrs Boothroyd.

Heckie looked hard at the Boothroyds. She was angry, but she was also amazed. In spite of what Daniel had said, she hadn’t really believed that they would prefer Basil to the little dog. Then she gathered up the puppy and went to the door which Daniel was holding open for her, and out into the garden.

For an animal witch, turning nice animals into silly people is much harder than the other way round. Heckie’s eyes were sad as she shook off her left shoe so that her Toe of Transformation could suck power from the earth. Then she spoke softly to the bulldog, waiting till his tail stopped wagging and his eyes were closed. Only when he slept did she touch him with her Knuckle of Power and say her spells.

Ten minutes later, Heckie returned to the drawing-room. She had held the puppy close to her chest, but she carried Basil at arm’s length like a tray. His nightdress was covered in black streaks, he was bawling – but he was quite unharmed.

‘My lambkin, my prettikins, my darling!’ shrieked Mrs Boothroyd, covering him with squelchy kisses.

‘My son, my boy!’ slobbered Mr Boothroyd.