by Sally Rippin
Miss Spinnaker plumps up Polly’s pillow, then leans over and strokes her forehead. ‘Do you need me to do a sleeping spell over you?’ she says gently.
‘No, I’ll be OK,’ Polly says. She shuffles her hip a little where the stones are digging into her. It feels uncomfortable sleeping in her clothes and her teeth feel furry from not having been brushed, but now tiredness has well and truly taken over and she feels her eyelids growing heavy and sore.
‘What happened to your dad?’ Polly murmurs sleepily, trying to keep her teacher by her side for just a little longer.
‘You are a nosy one, aren’t you?’ Miss Spinnaker says kindly, but there is sadness in her voice. ‘Let’s just say my mother is a hundred times happier with Mortimer than she ever was with my father. Even if Mortimer is a monster. You know as well as I do that not all monsters are bad and not all witches and warlocks are good. Now, good night, Polly,’ she says, standing up and pulling the gaudy pink dressing gown more tightly around her.
But even before she has closed the door behind her, Polly has drifted off to sleep.
Polly hears a low murmuring noise pulling her up through her dreams. The voice gets louder and louder.
‘Polleee. Polleeeee …’
She opens one eye and then the other, her head still groggy with sleep. Buster is leaning right over her, peering into her face.
He has opened the curtains and pale sunlight streams in through the little round window. ‘Are you awake?’ he asks hopefully.
‘I am now!’ Polly says, rubbing her eyes and yawning. ‘What time is it?’
‘I don’t know, but I’m hungry.’ Buster says. ‘Can you smell something?’
Polly giggles. ‘Right now all I can smell is your breath.’ she says, pulling the blanket back over her head.
Buster jerks Polly’s blanket off her in one tug. ‘Aw, come on, Polly!’ he says. ‘This is the first day of our adventure!’
Although she is still sleepy, Polly grins to see her very best friend at the end of her bed. Buster is right. They have just had their first sleepover!
She scrambles out of bed and the two of them race to be first in the kitchen, where they find Flora already sitting at the table, a big pot of tea in front of her. She is dressed in a traditional witch smock, faded to grey, with a white lace collar and a bulky yellow knitted cardigan over the top. Her hair is a halo of frizzy pink. When she takes a sip of tea from her little bortal-shaped cup, Polly can smell lavender and bergamot and sunshine. Flora smiles at them as they run in and her cheeks bloom pink from the tea.
Mortimer is at the stove in a frilly apron and floral shorts, cooking something that smells amazing. Buster’s tummy growls in appreciation.
‘Just in time,’ Mortimer says. He places a massive stack of flipcakes in the middle of the table and drizzles them with syrup. Polly watches in amazement as it
crackles and fizzes,
shooting little sparks up to the ceiling.
‘Sparkle syrup,’ Mortimer winks. ‘An old witch favourite of Flora’s. Pull up a chair!’
‘Oh, thank you.’ Buster sighs like he hasn’t eaten a thing for days, and slides into a seat beside Polly.
‘Has Miss Spinnaker left yet?’ Polly asks, reaching for a flipcake. She dips her finger in a little of the syrup and is delighted to discover it tastes as fizzy as it looks. Her mother never cooks with magic ingredients anymore. Only boring foods like thistleweeds and mealworms.
‘Oh yes,’ Flora chuckles. ‘Iris was up hours ago. Don’t look like that, popkin! She won’t be long. We’ll have fun together this morning. Won’t we, Mortimer?’
‘You bet!’ says Mortimer, tossing the frypan in his great big paw so that the flipcakes
Polly knows her mother would freak if she found out she had been left in a house with a monster. Aside from Buster’s family and the straggly bunch of monsters his mother takes in, Polly has never really spent much time with other monsters. She still finds it hard to believe Mortimer lives here. With Miss Spinnaker’s mother!
‘I like Mortimer,’ Buster whispers to Polly through mouthfuls of food, his lips sparkling with syrup. ‘He makes very good flipcakes.’
Polly takes a bite. It’s true. Mortimer’s flipcakes are excellent. And she has never eaten anything quite as wondrous as Flora’s sparkle syrup! Polly studies Miss Spinnaker’s stepfather carefully as she eats. He is tall and lanky, with broad, hairy shoulders and massive hands and feet. He moves like a monster, with big sweeping gestures, and he has a booming monstery voice, but whenever he comes close to Flora, he almost always pauses to give her a toothy smile or plant a gentle kiss on her head. And when Flora looks back up at him, she blushes like a young witchling.
Polly knows her mother adored her father, but she doesn’t remember them ever acting like this. Like two bluebirds in love. And the more Polly watches Flora and Mortimer together, the less weird it seems, until she has almost forgotten that Mortimer is a monster.
‘Do you think I could use your phone to call my mum?’ Polly asks, after she has finished breakfast. ‘She must be so worried by now!’
Flora looks at Polly, a smear of syrup on her chin. ‘Oh, we don’t have anything fancy like that. Morty, imagine? Us having one of those phone-gadget thingies!’ She snorts. ‘Who would we call anyway? No, we only have a broken down crystal ball, which I use to keep an eye on my grandchildren. It doesn’t tune well these days though. But don’t worry. Iris sent a message on a nighthawk last night to let your parents know you’re both safe. And you’ll be home in no time. Now, why don’t you go outside and play while you’re waiting for her? Mortimer and I can tidy the kitchen. Go on, off you go!’
‘All right,’ Polly says, dragging Buster from the table. He stares longingly at the few remaining flipcakes on the plate, swimming in sparkle syrup. ‘Come on, Buster. Let’s go and find a good tree to climb.’
Polly and Buster run out the front door and find a morpett tree with wide, low branches that looks perfect for climbing. Buster swings up easily – his arms are long and strong – and once he finds a good hollow for them to nestle into, he pulls Polly up beside him. Mortimer waves at them from the kitchen window and they wave back.
The sun shines through the leaves and dapples their faces. They watch a speckled treeworm climb slowly up the trunk beside them. In the distance, the forest hums with the chatter and chirrup of birds swooping in and out of the trees. ‘I like it here,’ Buster says, leaning back against the trunk of the tree, his paws behind his head. ‘I like Mortimer and Flora and of course having an adventure with you. But I do miss my mum. I hope Miss Spinnaker comes back soon so we can go home.’
‘Me too,’ says Polly. She leans against Buster. He is as soft and comforting as a favourite blanket and he smells like the trees. He begins to hum and she can feel the reverberation of his deep voice through his chest. It is their made-up song.
‘Me and you, you and me,
that’s the way it will always be,’
he croons, and Polly feels him expand with happiness.
Dear old Buster, she thinks. It doesn’t take much to make him happy. As long as he has a belly full of food and a tree to lie in.
Sometimes Polly wishes she was as uncomplicated as Buster – more fun and less worry. But even now, when she should be feeling as carefree as he does, she can’t help worrying about where Miss Spinnaker might be, and why she is taking so long, and, most importantly, how they are going to get Buster safely back to his family while those nasty witches are out there, looking for him.
If only Malorie hadn’t told her mother about Buster coming to my window, Polly thinks crossly. She remembers how her classmate had almost convinced her they could be friends. It’s just stupid that Mrs Halloway thinks she can make other witches believe Buster is dangerous. I mean, just look at him! Buster is about the sweetest, kindest monster you could ever meet. Anyone with two eyes could see that!
She looks at her old friend, stretched out along the tree branch, eyes close
d and crooning happily, and smiles.
Just then, Polly hears a noise: a familiar buzzing sound coming from above that makes her skin prickle in fear.
‘Shh!’ she warns Buster, and puts a finger to her lips.
He stops singing and his eyes grow wide.
Polly listens again. She would know that sound anywhere. It’s the buzz of a SILVER 500. The newest and most powerful broomstick around. And there is only one witch Polly knows who owns one of those.
Mrs Halloway!
Polly’s heart begins to pound. She inches her bottom up the branch so she is completely hidden by the leaves. Buster’s green fur camouflages him well, but she gestures for him to stay still and quiet anyway.
Sure enough, Mrs Halloway’s broomstick comes into view just above them. Polly watches in horror as it hovers above Flora’s little house for a while, then drifts downwards to land gently on the ground.
Mrs Halloway props her broomstick against a tree, then walks along the stepping-stone path towards the front door. Polly holds her breath. She takes Buster’s paw and feels it shrink a little in her own.
Oh no, oh no, oh no! Polly thinks. Where in blooming moons is Miss Spinnaker?
Mrs Halloway raps the heavy brass knocker three times and Flora opens the door. Compared to tall and spindly Mrs Halloway, Flora looks like a little pudding in her faded grey smock and yellow cardigan. But before Mrs Halloway can even open her mouth to speak, Flora has wrapped her arms tightly around her waist in a happy embrace.
‘Oh! What a lovely surprise!’ Flora calls out loudly in her high, raspy voice. ‘It’s little Deidre Halloway. Iris’s old classmate. How lovely to see you!’
Polly can tell Flora is yelling this out as loudly as she can as a warning for them all to hear. She can’t see Mrs Halloway’s face but she sees her thin body stiffen in Flora’s arms. Flora pulls back again to look up into Mrs Halloway’s face, her hands still firmly clasping her shoulders.
‘Oh, look at you! You haven’t changed a bit. Just a little greyer around the temples, but that happens to the best of us,’ she says, patting her own dyed-pink frizz. ‘What’s taken you so long to come and visit me, dearie? How did you know I was here? You still keep up with Iris, do you?’
Finally Mrs Halloway opens her mouth to speak, but even though she is trying to sound authoritarian, her voice comes out flustered and awkward after Flora’s unexpected flurry of enthusiasm.
‘Yes, er, no, I mean, it’s Iris who I am looking for, Mrs Spinnaker,’ she says. ‘I saw your son in town and he let me know you live out here now,’ she says, her voice sounding firmer. ‘I thought you might know where your daughter is? I have reason to believe she might be hiding a very dangerous monster.’
Polly hears Buster gasp and she squeezes his paw tightly, telling him to be quiet. He shrinks a little further.
‘Oh no,’ Flora says, shaking her head convincingly. ‘Iris doesn’t visit me much anymore. I would have no idea what she’s up to these days, I’m afraid. But that’s children for you, isn’t it? Slave after them their whole childhoods and then they grow up and you don’t see hide nor hair of them. I do hope you are a better daughter to your mother than my Iris is …’ she rambles.
What a good liar you are! Polly thinks. She is amazed at how calm Flora seems.
‘And as for monsters,’ Flora continues, ‘well, like the rest of us, she doesn’t have anything to do with them, as far as I know. After all, it wouldn’t do to have such a well-respected teacher mixing with monsters now, would it?’
‘Hmm …’ says Mrs Halloway. But Polly hears by the tone of her voice that she is not completely convinced. ‘Well, maybe you might like to invite me inside?’ she asks, and Polly’s heart begins to race. ‘I’ve been flying for hours now and I wouldn’t mind a cup of tea and to sit down for a while …’
At that moment Flora begins to cough. She bends over, clutching her chest, and
splutters
and hacks
all over the place. Mrs Halloway takes a step backwards.
‘Oh, sorry,’ Flora says, standing upright again and wiping her mouth on her sleeve. ‘I don’t know if I’d be coming inside if I were you. You see, I’ve a terrible case of flackity at the moment.’ Flora squeezes her eyes tight and for a moment her face becomes as pink as her hair. Then Polly hears a loud noise
Polly has to pinch her lips together to stop herself from giggling and she glares as Buster to remind him not to laugh. It would be a disaster if he began to blow up in size!
‘Oops! Oh, I do beg your pardon!’ Flora says. ‘Was up all night with it, I was. It’s awfully contagious, too. You don’t want a case of flackity when you’re obviously such a busy witch now, do you, dear?
I wouldn’t risk it. But don’t worry, if I hear from Iris, I’ll be sure to tell her you called by. I’m so happy to hear you two witches are still in touch. Thank you so much for dropping by, dearie. And do give my regards to your mother.’
And with these last words, Flora steps back into the house and pulls the heavy door firmly shut behind her.
Mrs Halloway hesitates at the door for a moment, then spins around and snatches up her broomstick. Polly catches a glimpse of her angry red face as she lifts up from the ground and zooms past them to clear the trees once more.
Only then, when Mrs Halloway is a black speck against the clear blue sky, can Polly finally breathe normally again.
Polly pokes her head out from the leaves, her heart a skittish monkey in her chest.
‘Wait here,’ she instructs Buster, and swings down through the branches. She runs into the house to look for Flora and Mortimer, but they are not in the kitchen. Pausing in the hallway, she hears low voices from the bedroom at the end of the corridor and tiptoes closer to listen. Flora’s voice is too soft to hear through the door, but it is easy to catch snippets of what Mortimer is saying. He is angry and his voice is loud.
‘I know it’s dangerous for them out there, but they can’t stay here!’ he growls. ‘Look how close we came to being discovered. Imagine what those witches would do to you, or me, or even Iris if they found out about us. Do you really think the Committee mothers at the school would be happy to hear their children are being taught by the stepdaughter of a monster?
‘No!’ he continues. ‘I won’t calm down. That job means too much to Iris, and you mean too much to me, for us to risk everything by having these two in our house with that evil witch out looking for them. We haven’t hidden out here for five years with no contact with any of our friends or families only to have these two youngsters bring trouble to our door …’
Polly feels her eyes spring with tears. How she wishes she could take back all the trouble she has caused. If only she knew a spell to reverse time and put everything back to how it was before that terrible day at the gallery. Ever since then, it seems she brings trouble with her wherever she goes. And now she has even made trouble for kind, sweet Flora and Mortimer!
She runs back down the corridor towards the lounge room. There is Miss Spinnaker’s blue velvet bag hanging on the chair, waiting for her to return. Polly snatches it up and, as she is about to leave the room, she hesitates for a moment before grabbing Miss Spinnaker’s old school spell book and stuffing it into the bag.
Running past the kitchen, she ducks in to grab a handful of ripe pricklefruits and the spickleseed bread wrapped in cloth. She has no idea where she and Buster will go or how long they will be gone, but she figures it can’t hurt to have as many supplies as she can find.
Last of all, she plucks a small jar of healing potion from the first-aid shelf by the door and tucks it into the bag.
There is a notepad and pencil on the table where she can see Flora has begun a shopping list. Polly rips off a page and scrawls a hasty note:
Then she tucks the notepad and pencil into the bag, too, before heading out the front door to where she knows Buster will be waiting.
Their true adventure starts now.
Buster tosses Polly up ont
o his shoulders and the two of them bound off deep into the forest, before Flora and Mortimer can notice they have gone. Polly knows Mortimer is kind and that he probably didn’t mean any of those things he said, but he and Flora never asked to be pulled into this terrible mess.
Polly can’t wait around for Miss Spinnaker any longer. She knows where she is meant to be, even if her teacher has forbidden her from going there. She doesn’t have a choice. She is a Silver Witch and the stones have told her that this is what she must do. Somehow, she knows there is something in the Hollow Valley Mines that will make things right again. Something to do with her father.
Polly hasn’t told Buster about the vision the stones sent her yet. She has been waiting for the right time. For now, all she can think of is to get away from Mrs Halloway – and fast! For all they know, she may still be flying overhead, scanning the trees, desperate to hunt them down.
Buster runs as fast as he can until they reach the deepest, darkest part of the forest. Here the light is dim and the trees are so closely packed together that even the birds no longer swoop through. This is where they will hide for now.
Buster slips Polly off his shoulders and onto the ground. He puts his paws on his knees and leans against a tree trunk to slide down into a squat. ‘Do … you … have … any … water?’ he pants. His fur is covered in a sheen of sweat.
‘Oh!’ Polly says. Her brow furrows. She slips the velvet bag off her shoulder and rummages about in it, even though she knows this is the one vital thing she forgot. ‘I have pricklefruits?’ she says, holding out some of the pink, spiky fruit.
Buster takes one of them and peels back the coarse skin with his teeth. He sucks at the juice, but Polly knows it won’t be enough to keep them going for long. She burrows into the bag a little deeper. ‘And, look! I have Miss Spinnaker’s wand. And her old spell book, too!’ she says, her voice full of hope. ‘Maybe there is a spell in here to find water?’