by Kaye Umansky
Elsie washed, Tilda dried and Albert wiped down the table.
‘She’s hopeless,’ whispered Albert to Tilda and Elsie. ‘I’ve never known anyone so clumsy. What shall we do with her?
‘I don’t know,’ said Elsie, trying to hold in a yawn. She was ready for bed.
‘She kept saying “I’ll do that” and I’d say “no, don’t”,’ Albert went on, ‘and then she did it anyway, all wrong. Three times she stacked the special offer ironing boards. Three times they fell over again. Onto customers.’
‘Oh, dear.’
‘She got her hair caught in the till. Your mum had to come down and untangle it. She knocks things off shelves, drops things, gives the wrong change...’
‘She ate a good supper, though,’ said Tilda. ‘Likes her food, I’ll say that. And she was ever so pleased to see you, Elsie.’
‘She was,’ said Elsie with a smile. Her arms still felt sore from Sylphine’s enthusiastic hugs of joy when she had finally arrived back at the attic (on foot, although she had been sorely tempted to take a shortcut) well after closing time.
‘It’s been a funny old day,’ mused Albert.
‘I took the boys to the common to look at the tower at sunset and see if the rude raven was there,’ said Tilda. ‘I got the sense that people are coming around to the idea of the tower being in Smallbridge. Everyone seemed a lot more friendly.’
‘Really?’ said Elsie.
‘Yes. And I don’t know how, but suddenly there are benches in the square and a pretty fountain in the middle,’ said Tilda. ‘The boys said the water tastes like lemonade, of all things! And there were a load of witches sitting around, showing each other what they’d been buying. A couple of them were using the sheep to barbecue on.’
‘Best thing for it,’ said Albert.
‘Really nice, they were. They gave the boys a free sausage. Arthy especially was a real hit with the witches. He sang “Twinkle Twinkle” and got given a little gold pot with a jewel on the lid.’
‘Tickle Dust,’ said Elsie. ‘All the kids are after that. It’s very popular in Sharp Spells.’
‘Arthy couldn’t get the lid off.’
‘It’s a safety thing. What do the witches make of Smallbridge?’
‘There were complaints about the shops being closed and there being nothing to do and nowhere to sit and nowhere to get a cup of tea. Asked me what we do for fun around here. I said nothing really. Apart from the farmer’s market tomorrow.’
‘They’ll have all moved on by morning, I bet,’ said Albert. ‘Stocked up on magic and the best the Emporium can offer. There’s nothing here to keep their interest. It’s a shame really because we had a great day today. What will happen then is anyone’s guess. Especially if the regulars don’t come back.’
‘Actually,’ said Tilda, ‘I kind of hope they don’t move on. They’ve certainly livened things up a bit.’
Tired though Elsie was, before she went to bed, she took a shortcut along to the square. She popped up next to the sheep which was indeed being used as a barbecue by Wendy, Shirley and Maureen. Nuisance was sitting nearby, hoping for a sausage.
‘Hello, dear,’ said Shirley. ‘Corn on the cob? Bag of chestnuts?’
‘I’ve had supper, thanks,’ said Elsie. ‘I just popped along to see how things are going.’
She looked around. There was a full moon shining. The square was full of locals and witches alike. Somebody was playing an accordion. The fountain was fizzing and people were collecting free lemonade in bottles. There was a nice, festive atmosphere.
What a difference a day made.
Chapter Nine
THE MARKET!
The following morning, Elsie and Joey bumped into each other in the middle of the high street. Elsie had the three boys with her, plus Nuisance. Joey had Bill.
‘Hi, where are you going?’ Elsie and Joey said at the same time, and giggled.
‘We’re off to the market,’ said Elsie. ‘I’m buying the boys toffee apples.’
‘Bill and me are off to Sharp Spells,’ said Joey happily.
His pockets jingled with the contents of his piggy bank. His plan was to fill Bill to the brim with tricks and fireworks and anything going that was cheap, noisy or sparkly.
‘I wouldn’t rush,’ said Elsie. ‘It’s not open. Yesterday was all too much for Magenta.’
‘Yep!’ croaked a voice from above. ‘Still in bed, snoring.’ There was a feathery flurry, and Corbett landed on Elsie’s shoulder. ‘Me? I’ve been up for hours. Early bird catches the small, dry, rubbish worms that crawl around that awful common. No one’s got a sandwich, by any chance?’
‘Couldn’t you get something from the magic larder?’ asked Elsie.
‘The tower’s still on strike.’ Corbett eyed Arthy, Toby and Baby Todd, who stood holding hands in a row, wide-eyed and thrilled beyond belief to see the rude raven up close. ‘What are those?’
‘My little brothers,’ said Elsie. ‘We’re off to the market for toffee apples. Say hello to Joey and Corbett, boys.’
‘Heddo,’ said Arthy shyly.
‘Ho,’ said Toby, even shyer.
Baby Todd just sucked his thumb.
‘Toffee apples, eh?’ said Corbett. ‘I’d have one with you, but they glue up my beak.’ He crossed his eyes and made funny glued-up beak motions, which sent all three boys into convulsions of laughter. ‘See that? Little kids love me.’
‘Well,’ said Elsie, ‘we’d best be going—’
‘I got tickoduss,’ announced Arthy suddenly, eager to impress the funny-talking bird and the big boy. He reached into his pocket and produced the little gold pot with a red jewel in the lid.
‘Wow!’ cried Joey. ‘Great name, great pot, got to be great stuff. Let’s try it.’
‘Not now,’ said Elsie. ‘We need to get to the toffee apple stall before they sell out.’
‘Come on, let’s try it now. Look how cute it is. If it’s any good, I’ll buy some. Arthy wants to try it, don’t you, Arthy?’
‘Eth.’
‘Corbs wants to, don’t you, Corbs? Come on, back me up here.’
‘Market first,’ said Elsie firmly. ‘I promised the boys a treat because they’ve been good. They sat and watched Sylphine finish off their favourite breakfast cereal and nobody cried.’
‘Aggie’s here?’ said Joey.
‘She turned up yesterday and helped out in the Emporium … well, sort of.’
‘Why would Aggie help in your dad’s shop?’ asked Joey.
‘Her granny wants her to be Magenta’s assistant and Sylphine thought working at the the Emporium would be good experience. She’s going to see Magenta this morning to ask for the job.’
Oooooooowwwwwww!
Everyone jumped at the odd howl that suddenly echoed in the morning air.
Ooooooooooowwww!
Another. Coming from the direction of the town square.
Arthy, Toby and Baby Todd grabbed Elsie’s skirt. Nuisance went stiff and growled. Elsie, Corbett and Joey stared at each other. They knew those howls.
‘The Howlers.’ said Elsie. ‘Whatever are they doing in Smallbridge?’
‘Let’s find out,’ said Joey.
The Farmers’ Market was the highlight of Smallbridge’s week. You could buy most things there: vegetables, cheese, honey and eggs. There was a woman who sold toffee apples, a man who sold cheap shoes and a knife grinder.
The market was always busy, but today it wasn’t just the locals hustling and bustling, there were plenty of witches too, filling their baskets with turnips, cabbages, horrible pairs of slippers and dangerously sharp kitchen knives. But rather than it being confrontational, there was lots of polite head nodding and the occasional, ‘Excuse me,’ and, ‘after you.’ Elsie was delighted to see everyone getting along.
As the group made their way through the crowd, Elsie spotted the Howler sisters staked out in a corner spot. Two smiling little old ladies, one in pink, one in blue, both with matching bonnets and paras
ols – and each with a tail sticking through a special slot at the back of their dresses. It was very strange to see them in Smallbridge.
Behind them was a row of buckets. Planted in each was a tall, stiff, green stalk topped with a large, white, round flower that … glowed. Gave out weird, silvery light. Smelled odd too. Sweet. Tangy. Like nothing else on earth.
A sign next to the buckets said:
MOONFLOWERS
NEED GOOD HOMES
‘Why, if it isn’t Elsie and the post boy!’ cried Evie (in pink). ‘Give a good home to a moonflower, dears?’
‘Lovely, aren’t they?’ said Ada (in blue). ‘We grow them from seed. Don’t need watering, they drink moonlight. Get a bit moody in daylight, mind. You need to watch them around pets and small children.’
The moonflowers were facing the boys in a slightly menacing way. Baby Todd took hold of Elsie’s hand.
‘Known to nip,’ added Evie. ‘Not hard, but just keep an eye out.’
‘Stand back, boys,’ said Elsie. ‘You heard the ladies. The flowers bite.’
‘Nip,’ corrected Evie. ‘So, who are these dear little fellows?’ She beamed down at the boys, tail swishing happily. The boys stared back, round-eyed, mouths open, struck dumb by tails, pails and flowers that might nip.
‘My brothers,’ said Elsie. ‘Say hello, boys.’ Arthy, Toby and Baby Todd squirmed shyly and said nothing. You could tell they were quite liking the attention, though.
‘We weren’t expecting to see you here, ladies,’ said Joey.
‘Oh, we like a market, don’t we, Evie?’ said Ada. ‘Just the place for finding good homes for the moonflowers. We get overcrowded at the height of the growing season, the older ones have to move out. We never felt we’d be welcome in Smallbridge until today. But we heard on the grapevine that Magenta’s opened a magic shop here so it seems the place isn’t as stuffy as we thought.’
‘Now we know why you steal buckets,’ said Joey, sniffing the nearest moonflower, ‘Wow, that smells … odd.’ The moonflower suddenly whipped round to face him, clearly offended. Hastily, Joey backed away.
‘Steal buckets? We can’t think what you mean, dear. Do consider giving a home to a moonflower. You can use them as a reading lamp. Just be careful not to sneak up on them.’
‘They’ve got a dark side,’ said her sister.
‘Yes. Best placed back against a wall.’
They smiled beneath their frilly bonnets. Behind their skirts, their tails wagged to and fro. Nuisance bared his teeth. He didn’t really didn’t like the Howlers. They brought out the dog in him.
‘Umm … we’ll think about it,’ fibbed Elsie. ‘Anyway, we’d best get going. We’re off to buy toffee apples.’
They walked on and soon came across another surprise. A tea stall. Rows of cups and saucers laid out, and presided over by a familiar large, yellow fortune-telling teapot. The sign out front said:
MADAME SHIRLEY, FORTUNE TELLER TO THE STARS. HAVE A CUPPA, KNOW YOUR FUTURE. 2 SHILLINGS. FREE BUN.
‘Morning, dears,’ said Shirley, beaming over the teapot. ‘Surprised to see me again so soon?’
‘A bit,’ said Elsie. ‘What’s all this about?’ She waved her hand around, taking in the sign, the stall, the tea cups, everything.
‘What d’you think? A tea stall. Something this town badly needs. It’s not only Madge that can come up with a clever little business venture. Now, unless you want tea and a reading, please move along so paying customers can get through.’
‘I’d like a bun,’ said Corbett hopefully.
‘Buns only come with tea and a reading. Off you go.’
A bit further along, between a stall selling radishes and one selling cheese, was a small tent covered in faded mystic squiggles. A sign said:
WENDY SNIPE, WISE WOMAN OF CLACKHAM COMMON. TOP NOTCH WISDOM! REASONABLE RATES.
Elsie put her ear to the canvas. Inside the tent, Wendy was loudly telling Mrs Snoring that she’d be wise to go back to the Emporium because Albert Pickles had been quite right to throw unruly customers out of his shop, and besides, there was a sale on. Outside, Mrs Lardy, Miss Winnie Whippet and the two Old Trouts were waiting for a turn. All four smiled at Elsie. Mrs Lardy patted Nuisance and said she’d be calling in the Emporium later for soap powder and a pickle fork. The fight in the shop, it seemed, was forgotten.
‘Wendy’s doing good business,’ said a voice from behind. Maureen was looming over them with a shopping basket full of vegetables. ‘Shirley’s popular too. Everyone likes a cuppa. This starting-up-a-business craze is really catching on. Almost tempted to give it a go myself.’
‘What would you do?’ asked Joey.
‘General sort of haggery, I suppose. Cackling over candles sort of thing. What d’you reckon, Elsie?’
‘Well,’ said Elsie. ‘Cackling over candles is a bit of a minority interest … but Smallbridge seems to be coming around to new ideas so who knows, maybe give it a go—’
She was cut off by the almighty crash of cymbals! Into the square marched a grim-faced collection of people. They consisted of: Angry Beard Man, Mr Sourman (on cymbals), the woman with a green hat, the one with a single eyebrow and the man with no chair at the council meeting. Between them, they carried a selection of unfriendly signs:
‘Uh-oh!’ croaked Corbett, from Joey’s shoulder. ‘This isn’t good.’
Everyone in the market – stallholders and shoppers alike – stopped what they were doing and stared. Shirley put the lid on her teapot. Wendy’s head poked out of her tent. Maureen put down her basket and folded her arms.
The group of protestors came to a halt and formed a huddle. If it wasn’t for the horrible signs and the grim faces, they could have been a choir about to break into song. Or perhaps not.
‘Witches out!’ bellowed angry beard man. ‘Witches unwelcome!’
‘Right!’ piped up Mr Sourman. ‘There’s no place for witches here.’
‘You’d be wise to take that back, dears,’ said Wendy. ‘Wouldn’t they, Shirley?’
‘They would,’ said Shirley.
Suddenly, all the witches who had been wandering happily around the market were standing in a grim-faced line at the front. The jolly atmosphere was jolly no more.
‘I don’t like this,’ Joey whispered in Elsie’s ear. ‘Can’t you do something?’
‘No,’ said Elsie, looking on hopelessly. Tensions from the last few days were finally about to boil over and she hadn’t a clue how to stop a big fight breaking out..
‘But you’ve got the knack! Do your frogs or eggs. Freeze them or something.’
‘Eggs and frogs won’t help, Joey. I can’t use baby spells on angry witches. They’d laugh in my face.’
‘Don’t try threatening us with your nasty, wicked magic!’ shouted the woman with the green hat. ‘We’re citizens of Smallbridge and we can say what we like!’
‘Well,’ said Maureen crisply. ‘We’re witches, you see, and we can do what we like.’
‘Oh, is that so?’ bawled angry beard man. ‘Think you can scare us? Coming here! Settling up shop! Corrupting our kids! Taking our money! Taking over my town!’
‘Hear, hear,’ chimed in his fellow protesters. ‘Witches Go Home!’
‘Ladies,’ said Maureen, loking around at her fellow witches. Her right hand was moving to her voluminous left sleeve, where she kept her wand. ‘I think we’ve heard enough, am I right?’
‘Elsie,’ said Joey. ‘You have to do something. It’s getting … too serious. Look, they’re getting all their wands out!’
Elsie thought hard. She needed a distraction. Something that wouldn’t hurt, or offend anyone. Something that would take away all the bad feeling and make everybody cheerful again. A rainbow? A sudden snow shower? Baskets of fluffy baby rabbits? All good, but wouldn’t necessarily appeal to everybody…
Suddenly, she had it.
‘Arthy,’ she said. ‘Can I have your pot of Tickle Dust, please? We’re going to try it out!’
‘
Now?’ squealed Arthy. He gave a little jump of happiness.
‘Yes, now!’
Speechless with excitement, eyes shining, Arthy reached into his pocket, brought out the precious little gold pot and handed it to Elsie.
Elsie unscrewed it easily. Inside, it was packed to the brim with fine, sparkling golden dust, like powdered sunshine.
Right, she thought. Let’s hope it does what it says on the tin.
‘Okay, Arthy’ she said. ‘Now – count to three, take a deep breath, then blow.’
‘One … two … six!’ said Arthy. And blew.
And the tickle dust came out, in a glittering, swirling great puff of golden cloud!
The dust was smart. It knew what to do. It swirled in a golden stream over the heads of the crowd, gathered itself up and rained down gently on the heads and shoulders of those who needed an extra dose – the protesters.
Angry beard man looked startled – then his brow smoothed, the lower half of his face creased and slowly, he broke into a smile! Then, much to his own surprise, he gave a rusty chuckle. It was a sound he hadn’t made in years.
Next to him, Mr Sourman let out a braying little giggle, looked surprised, then did it again. The woman in the green hat and her friend with the single eyebrow both grinned from ear to ear. No-chair man made a funny hiccup sound. Then, simultaneously, they all dropped their signs, threw back their heads and burst into loud, hearty laughter!
In seconds, the entire market place was doubled up, witches and townsfolk alike. It was as though people hadn’t laughed properly for years, and needed to let it all out. They giggled and gasped, held their stomachs and leaned on each others shoulders, shaking helplessly with mirth.
Tickle Dust. Hand crushed by jolly elves. It tickled you and made you happy. What incredible stuff.
Chapter Ten
WHAT NEXT?
Sylphine was as ready as she would ever be for her first-ever job interview. Elsie’s mum had given her suit a sponge down – Arthy had spilled orange juice down it, Toby had pulled a button loose and baby Todd had wiped his nose on the hem. She had polished her horrible shoes and pinned back her hair.