The Daring of Della Dupree

by Natasha Lowe

  The light was growing dim, and Della realized that she was actually going to have to stay here, at least until she had got her travel amulet back from that Tom Foolery person. If she could get it back at all. But that was too scary to think about. So scary that Della’s mind switched off at the mere thought of such a thing, her brain going fuzzy and a crackly noise buzzing in her ears.

  “All right, I’ll take you home,” Della said, not wanting to abandon Mary, and relieved to have somewhere to go. Spending the night in a medieval forest was not an option she cared to consider. She reached for Mary’s hand and gave it a squeeze, which seemed to calm Mary down and also helped remind Della that she wasn’t completely alone out here. “It’s going to be fine,” Della murmured, wishing she could actually believe this.

  “Where do you live?” Della asked as Mary led her through the forest. The trees were tall, and Della could tell from the acorns scattered across the ground that most of them were oaks.

  “Potts Bottom. It’s not far from here.”

  “Oh, you do!” Just hearing the name made Della feel closer to home. At least she had ended up in the right place, which, with any luck, meant she had ended up in the right year as well. And if that was the case, Della reasoned, remembering why she had come back here to begin with, then Witch Dupree should be somewhere close by. All she had to do was find her and explain what had happened. And maybe, Della thought hopefully, Witch Dupree could help her get home again. Maybe she even had a travel amulet hanging about that Della could borrow, so she wouldn’t have to confront that horrible creepy jester.

  “Twelve twenty-three, twelve twenty-three, Ruthersfield was founded by Witch Dupree.” Della hadn’t realized she was speaking out loud until Mary yanked her to a stop.

  “You can’t say that word.” Mary mouthed “witch.” “Ever. Even talk of such things is dangerous.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” Della glanced around as they started to walk again. “But have you heard of Della Dupree?” she whispered, being careful not to use the word “witch.”

  “No.” Mary shook her head. “You’re the only Della I know.”

  “Are you sure there’s not another Della in Potts Bottom?”

  “I haven’t heard of anyone by that name. Is she a friend of yours?”

  “I thought she might be able to help me,” Della sighed. “I’ve heard great things about her.”

  “She could live in Deckle Mead or Pig Hollow,” Mary suggested. “There are other villages around here.”

  “Maybe. I don’t know.” Della wished she had done a little more research on Witch Dupree. Had she actually lived in Potts Bottom? Della couldn’t remember. “And there’s no school called Ruthersfield nearby?” she asked hopefully.

  “There’s no school at all.” Mary laughed. “What would we be wanting one of those for? Too much to do, with harvesting and planting and helping out with the spinning and weaving and taking care of the animals.”

  “So no one goes to school?”

  “Master Ivan, Lord Hepworth’s son, has a tutor. And there are some that can read and write.”

  The girls walked on in silence for a bit, and Della noticed that the wood was getting lighter. The trees weren’t so dense, and they had joined a well-traveled path that finally led out to open land, where a number of huts were gathered. The huts appeared to be made out of sticks and mud with thatched roofs of straw. Smoke streamed out of holes in the roofs instead of chimneys, and a thin, bluish haze hung over the settlement. A pair of goats wandered past them, and Della could see chickens pecking in the earth for food. Beyond the settlement were open fields, some with cows and sheep grazing on them and others that looked like they had been planted in long, distinct strips. Children ran up and down among the crops, waving their arms about.

  “What are they doing?” Della whispered to Mary, feeling like she had stumbled upon a movie set.

  “Scaring the birds away.” Mary gave Della a strange look that seemed to imply she should know this.

  “Wait. Where exactly are we?” Della said, staring at the hill in front of them. It looked remarkably like Clackton Ridge, the place Della’s class had flown to on a field trip a few weeks ago. Except that now there was a castle standing on the grassy mound where they had picnicked.

  “Potts Bottom, of course.”

  “Are you sure?” Della turned toward a banging noise. She saw a blacksmith hammering a piece of iron over a fire. Sparks flew into the air, and Della shut her eyes for a minute, picturing the Potts Bottom she had just left, with its brick houses and cobbled streets and girls whizzing about on broomsticks. It was hard to believe the two places were connected. Surprisingly, there was a familiar scent of yeasty baking, mingling with the smell of woodsmoke, and for a moment Della half expected to see Poppy’s bakery. But of course there was no little shop sitting by the canal, because the canal hadn’t been built yet. The smell, Della realized, came from one of the huts they were walking past, and her stomach rumbled in response. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast and would have given anything for one of Poppy’s sticky-topped lemon muffins. Della watched a woman walk out with a loaf of bread and (more surprisingly) two others walk in with covered bowls. She didn’t mean to stare quite so hard until Mary nudged her. “Haven’t you seen a baker’s before?”

  “What are they taking inside?” Della asked, her mouth watering.

  “Dough,” Mary said. “The oven is for the whole village.” She gave Della another strange look, as if this was more information she should know.

  “It’s very different where I come from,” Della explained. “Very different.”

  “I think I’d like to live in your country,” Mary said, touching a hand to her cheek. “Am I changing color again?” she whispered. “My skin is tingling.”

  “Just breathe slowly,” Della murmured, taking the bucket from Mary in case she sent it floating away with her magic. “You’re fine.”

  “I’m so hot,” Mary said, leading Della over to a well in the center of the settlement. She cranked a handle round and pulled up a pail filled with water. Dipping her hands in, Mary splashed some on her face. “My parents cannot find out.”

  “I really think we should tell them,” Della whispered. “I’m sure they’ll understand. I can explain about all the amazing things wit—” She clapped a hand against her mouth, remembering just in time.

  Luckily, there seemed to be some sort of commotion going on, so no one was looking at the girls. “News,” a young boy yelled, racing through the village. He stopped near the well and cupped his hands around his mouth. “News,” he shouted again. “A witch was discovered in Little Shamlington, flying on the back of a pig. They say she turned all the milk sour before leaving.”

  Hut doors opened, and villagers streamed outside. Some looked up in the air as if expecting to see a pig flying over.

  “Oh my stars,” a woman gasped, grabbing the arm of her neighbor. Her face trembled with the horror and excitement of such news. “A pig, indeed!”

  “Okay, I think you’re right,” Della whispered. “We won’t say anything to your parents.”

  Chapter Six

  A Nasty Pottage and a Very Tasty Spell

  MARY’S HUT WAS LIKE MOST of the others, with two square holes cut in the wall for windows, but no glass covering them, just shutters to keep out the dust and noise. Mary pushed open the wooden door, and immediately Della’s eyes smarted from the smoke. An open fire smoldered in the center of the room, and hanging above it from an iron hook dangled a heavy cast-iron pot, remarkably similar to an antique cauldron. A woman was leaning over the pot, stirring the contents around with a long wooden spoon.

  “Who’s this then?” she said, eyeing Della coldly.

  “Della,” Mary said. “She helped me pick up my berries when I spilled them.”

  “Hope you got the dust off.” Mary’s mother gave Della a curt nod. “Where are you from?”

  “Potts Bottom,” Della said without thinking.

&nb
sp; Mary’s mother frowned. “I’ve not seen you around these parts before.”

  “I—I mean I was on my way to Potts Bottom,” Della said, stumbling over her words.

  “Looking for work, no doubt.”

  Even though Della was small for her size, back here she felt surprisingly tall. She remembered reading that people were much shorter in medieval times due to a poor diet, so maybe she looked old enough to be job hunting. Or maybe, Della decided, thinking about Mary’s reaction from earlier, it was perfectly normal for kids to have jobs and be wandering about the countryside.

  “Well, there’s nothing here,” Mary’s mother continued, sprinkling a dried leaf of some sort into the pot. “You might have luck at the castle, though. They’re often looking for help.”

  “They are?” Della said, realizing this was the perfect excuse she needed. All she had to do was pretend she was looking for work, track down Tom Foolery, and convince him to be a nice, kind jester and give her the necklace back. Of course it wasn’t going to be that easy, and the thought of actually doing it made Della groan softly.

  “Are you feeling all right, child?” Mary’s mother inquired.

  “Just tired,” Della said. Which happened to be true. She was also frightened and homesick, and this was the last place on earth she wanted to be right now. Her eyes stung from the smoke, and Della hoped she wouldn’t start crying. But at least she had a plan. Then she’d be out of this nightmare and back in the fortune-telling lab, and nobody (thankfully) would have missed her.

  “Can Della stay tonight?” Mary asked.

  “Only if you have room,” Della added, glancing around the hut and wondering where she was supposed to sleep. There was a strong smell of animal that seemed to be coming from the two goats curled up in a corner.

  “That’s Crabapple and Bay Leaf,” Mary said, as if it were perfectly normal to have goats in the house.

  Mary’s mother put down the stirring spoon and folded her arms. “There’s not much to eat, so don’t go expecting a full belly.”

  “I’m not very hungry,” Della said, feeling slightly nauseous from the sour smell coming out of the pot. And she lost her appetite completely as the door banged open, letting in the ripe stench of sweat and unwashed bodies along with three rather ogrelike men. On closer inspection, two were more boys than men, and Della guessed they had doused their heads in the well, because water dripped from their hair onto the floor.

  “Who’s this then?” the oldest man grunted, stamping his boots and nodding at Della. She nodded back, too intimidated to speak.

  “Girl’s looking for work at the castle,” Mary’s mother explained.

  “And she helped me in the woods,” Mary said. “I fell over and spilled all my berries. Della was kind to me and made sure I wasn’t hurt.”

  The man mumbled a greeting. Although no one introduced him, Della guessed he was Mary’s father, and the two boys had to be her brothers.

  Immediately Mary’s mother started serving the vile-smelling stew into bowls. The family sat on two hard benches; Della squeezed onto one end beside Mary, trying not to think about her own family mealtimes, the warm cozy chaos with Robbie refusing to touch his broccoli and everyone chattering about their day. Here there was no conversation, and Della stared into her bowl, wondering what on earth she was eating, or trying to eat. It was almost impossible to swallow the watery mess with bits of gray, stringy stuff floating in it, and Della couldn’t believe how quickly the others slurped theirs down.

  “Did you hear about that witch in Little Shamlington?” one of the boys said. “Flying on a pig.”

  “They’ll catch her,” the other boy continued. “Before she does any more harm. Lord Hepworth’s sent some of his knights to join in the hunt.”

  “Wicked things,” Mary’s mother murmured. “Get them young before they start casting their evil spells everywhere.”

  Della’s heart raced. How could they be so ignorant? She should say something, but her mouth was dry, and she could feel Mary shaking beside her.

  “Poor girl’s terrified,” one of the boys said, nodding at his sister.

  “Wipe the bowls and stop fretting,” Mary’s mother muttered. “And close the shutters, Mary, just in case.”

  “If any witch flies through the window, I’ll swat her with the broom and pitch her on the fire,” one of the boys bragged. Della gasped, and Mary bolted from the table.

  “I’ll help too,” Della croaked, standing up rather shakily. Partly because she thought she might suffocate from the smell, but mainly because she couldn’t stand listening to such awful talk.

  Taking the bowls from the table, Della looked around to ask Mary what they did with them, but the girl seemed to have vanished. It wasn’t a big hut, and trying not to draw attention to Mary’s disappearance, Della padded across the room. Thankfully, the rest of the family was too absorbed in their conversation to notice. Not wanting to call out Mary’s name, Della peered into the gloom. A horrible thought suddenly occurred to her. What if Mary had managed to turn invisible? Untrained magic could do all sorts of strange things, and Della remembered hearing about a four-year-old who kept going in and out of focus when she first got the gift.

  There was a rustling near the goats, and at first Della thought a third animal had wandered inside to join them. It looked to be the same mottled color, but on closer inspection Della saw that the small creature tucked between Crabapple and Bay Leaf was actually Mary. Her skin and tunic mimicked the identical brown and cream of Bay Leaf’s hair, and it dawned on Della that Mary’s magic was acting as camouflage, helping her blend in with her surroundings. Perhaps it was a protection technique, nature’s way of shielding Mary from her magic being discovered? This would have been a fascinating thing to think about if Della were back at Ruthersfield, but right now not being hit with a broom and tossed on the fire seemed rather more pressing.

  “Deep, slow breaths,” Della said, glancing over at the table. Luckily, none of the family appeared to be the least bit interested in the girls. “Just relax,” Della murmured. “Draw your—” She was about to say “magic” but remembered just in time. “Draw your energy into your belly. Keep it tucked up inside,” she whispered, sounding just like Ms. Pringle. This made Mary giggle, and she pressed her hands over her mouth. But as soon as she began to practice her breathing, Della could see the color fading fast, and it wasn’t long before Mary was back to normal.

  * * *

  Washing the dishes, Della discovered, involved wiping them out with a bit of rag and putting them back on the shelf, which made her miss the squabbles she and her brothers always had about whose turn it was to load the dishwasher. It got more and more difficult to see as the light faded outside, and even the low flicker of a candle didn’t offer much in the way of illumination. There was no entertainment after supper, and when it got too dark to see each other clearly, the family crawled onto straw pallets, removing the outer layer of their clothes but not bothering to wash, or brush their teeth or put on pajamas. Della lay down beside Mary, who lay beside the goats, and before long the sound of snoring filled the hut. But Della was far too hungry and cold to sleep, and the few sips of gruel she’d choked down had left a sour, horrible taste in her mouth.

  It was difficult to breathe because of the smoke and the smells, and a powerful, aching homesickness overtook Della. She wanted so much to be back on Button Street, with her brothers and her mum and dad, eating her mum’s lasagna. She missed Pickle and Flutter and the bats, and the warm weight of Robbie curled up in her lap for a story. And she wanted a hot bath full of Amazing Dreams Bath Powder and to be tucked up in her own bed with her phoenix-feather pillow. The ache inside Della grew so strong that she found herself gripping her magic wand, buried deep in the pocket of the strange dress she now wore, desperate for a small taste of home. Della’s mouth watered as she imagined the flavors of noodles and cheese and meat sauce. Being as quiet as she could, she stood up, checking that the wooden shutters were fastened. Then, waving
her wand in the darkness, Della whispered, “Slumberoco,” a spell the girls often used at sleepovers. A flash of sparkles shot into the air, forming a lamb-shaped cloud that glowed luminous pale silver. The cloud floated around the room, and as it passed over the pallets where Mary’s brothers and parents slept, drifts of silver sparkles floated down on them. Continuing to glow, the lamb cloud settled above the fireplace, giving off a gentle moonlit radiance.

  Crouching beside the fire, Della waved her wand over the cooking pot. “Italiomama,” she whispered, suddenly glad that her strength was in practical magic. Who cared if she didn’t get As on her math quizzes? Right now this was much more useful. Immediately the most delicious smells started wafting into the air. Practicing the witch survival skills they had learned in outdoor magic class, Della transformed her wand into a spoon. (She also knew how to turn it into a toothpick, a pair of tweezers, and scissors.) Her stomach rumbled rather loudly as she dipped the spoon into the pot, ladling up a gooey cheesy mouthful of lasagna.

  “Oh that’s good,” Della sighed, dipping her spoon in again and again. It didn’t taste exactly like her mother’s (slightly heavy on the garlic), but it was incredibly delicious. And exactly what Della needed. In fact, she was so busy eating, she didn’t hear footsteps padding across the earthen floor.

  “What are you doing?” Mary whispered, startling Della so she dropped her spoon.

  “Mary! You scared me. You shouldn’t creep up on people like that.”

  “But what are you doing?” Mary whispered again. “Why aren’t you sleeping? And what’s that?” She was pointing at the silvery lamb cloud hanging above the fire.

  “Okay, no need to panic, because your family is sound asleep. I’ve put them under a spell.”

  Mary scrambled backward, staring at Della.

  “No, listen,” Della said, realizing Mary was actually scared. “It’s not like that. I’m not evil. I miss my family, and this is magic to make me feel better.” Tears clouded her eyes, and Della sniffed, wiping her hands across her face. “I just want to go home,” she confessed, “but I knew if your family saw me doing magic they would…” Della stopped and gave a shudder, not exactly sure what Mary’s family would do, except whatever it was it wouldn’t be good.