by Anne Forbes
“Great!” Neil said, immediately diverted at the mention of footballers. “By the way, who’s playing who tomorrow, Dad?”
Clara sat in the back of the car and as Neil and her father discussed football, watched the trees, hedges and fields slide by as they headed for home. By the time they reached Craiglaw House, she was feeling much better and seeing her mother, she smiled and waved as she scrambled out of the car. It’s not fair to worry Mum, she thought, as she rushed forward to hug her.
“I’ve lit the fire in the living room,” her mother said later. “I want to hear all about Netherfield. How you’re coping with the lessons and what the teachers are like …” she added, pushing the door open and switching on the light.
Clara settled herself on a stool by the fire and stretched out a hand to the blaze. The weather was getting colder by the day.
“Clara and I hardly ever see one another,” she heard Neil say. “We’re in different classes for a start …”
“Yes, and the boys’ bedrooms are in another tower altogether,” Clara added.
“And what about school work?” queried her mother. “Are you managing to keep up?”
“Well, Maths and English are okay and apart from the teacher, I quite like Drama,” Clara added, brightening at the thought. “Our year is putting on a play for Halloween, all about witches and stuff.”
“I know,” Neil nodded. “The rest of the seniors have been invited to watch the dress rehearsal. It was on the notice board this morning.”
“It’s just a pity Miss Markham’s so awful,” Clara said. “Nobody likes her; she’s really strict. You must have seen her round the place, Neil,” she looked at her brother enquiringly, “a real drama queen — tall, with black hair, black eyes and always so over the top about everything!”
“I think she’s probably foreign,” Neil said. “She signed the notice Maritza Markham.”
“Could be,” Clara said considering the matter. “She certainly doesn’t look Scottish.”
“And what about you, Neil?” interrupted his father.
“It’s just German that’s the problem,” Neil said glumly. “All the others started it in primary so Clara and I have a lot of catching up to do.”
“Do you have Mrs Weston for English?” his mother queried. “She’s a short woman, fair hair and a bit absent-minded.”
“Always losing her glasses,” added Neil with a grin. “Yes, I do. She’s my form mistress. She told me she knew Auntie Muriel.”
“Mmm, they were close friends. Believe me, she isn’t nearly as vague as she looks and if you have any problems, she’s someone you can trust.”
“Oops! I’m sorry, Clara,” her father said, getting to his feet suddenly, “I almost forgot. A letter came for you while you were at school.”
Clara looked startled. “A letter,” she said in surprise, “for me?”
“I should have given it to you earlier,” he added, taking a stamped envelope from the mantelpiece.
Her mother looked at it curiously. “It’s from the lawyer,” she said.
“Maybe Auntie Muriel’s left you thousands of pounds,” Neil grinned.
His father shook his head. “The estate’s been settled,” he said. “It can’t be that.”
“Open it then, Clara,” Neil urged as she turned it over in her hand, ‘don’t keep us in suspense!”
“You open it, Dad,” she said, handing it back to him, looking suddenly upset. “Please!”
Her father shrugged, slit the envelope open and took out a sheet of stiff paper and another, smaller envelope.
“Well, John?” his wife asked.
“How strange,” he muttered, handing Clara the small envelope. “It’s from the lawyer. He says that your aunt asked him to send you this letter, Clara …”
“He’s taken his time about it then, hasn’t he?” Neil observed. “I mean, Auntie Muriel died a couple of months ago.”
“He apologises for the delay,” continued his father, “but your aunt instructed him to wait for two months before he sent it to you …”
They all looked puzzled as Clara looked at the white envelope in her hand and opened it reluctantly. Why, she didn’t know, although she was soon to find out. She just had a feeling that once it was opened, nothing would ever be quite the same again.
“Well, what does she say?” demanded Neil curiously.
“It isn’t a letter,” Clara said, her eyes scanning the sheet of paper and holding it out so that they could all see it. “It’s some sort of riddle about … about a talisman.”
“A talisman!” echoed her mother. “Do you think it’s the one the MacArthur was telling us about? The one the witches are looking for?”
Neil read the riddle swiftly. “Must be,” he said, his eyes alight with excitement. “Good old Auntie Muriel! This must tell us where she hid it.”
“Read it out, Neil,” his mother said. “What does it say?”
“No,” Clara said suddenly, grabbing the paper from Neil and folding it in two, “that isn’t a good idea. Somebody might be watching us … through a crystal,” she explained. “The witches perhaps!”
“Do witches have crystals?” Neil asked curiously as they all looked round apprehensively. “I thought it was only magicians.”
“Nonsense,” her mother said dismissively, holding out her hand, “Who would be interested in us?”
Clara looked sceptical but handed her the folded sheet of paper. “Let’s not take the risk,” she muttered. “It ought to be okay if you cover it with your hand.”
“Then she won’t be able to read it, stupid!” Neil butted in.
“Neil,” his father said warningly.
Mrs MacLean read the riddle and folding the paper again, passed it to her husband.
The Talisman
Beside the firelight
Lies your treasure
A talisman from ages past
Cast in silver, steeped in magic
Keep it safe and use it well
Bind it to you, meet its challenge
Until it’s time to pass it on
Look to Morven’s Lords for guidance
Let their wisdom rule your choice
“Shhhh!” Clara said urgently, as everyone’s eyes automatically focused on the fireplace, ‘don’t say anything out loud.”
“You’re being ridiculous, Clara,” her mother said. “Who would watch us?”
“Well … you never know,” Neil chipped in, his eyes scanning the room warily.
“I don’t want any witches in the house again,” her mother said, alarmed at the thought.
John MacLean nodded agreement. “Nor do I,” he said. “Look, why don’t we all memorize the riddle and once we’ve done it, Clara can hide the paper somewhere safe.”
“And when you’re hiding it,” Neil advised, “hide it in the dark. Then if anybody is watching you through a crystal, you’ll know, ‘cos you’ll see the light.”
“Good thinking, Neil,” his father said approvingly.
Mrs MacLean moved to the door and switched off the central light, leaving the room lit only by flickering firelight and the glow of a table lamp. “Well,” she said with a sigh of relief, “obviously no one is watching us. We’ll keep it this way until we learn the rhyme, shall we?”
Clara spread it out on the coffee table and they took it in turns to memorize the riddle. It wasn’t long, nor was it difficult to remember.
“It doesn’t really tell us very much, though, does it?” Neil said after five minutes. “Apart from the obvious, that is,” he added, looking pointedly at the fireplace.
“Come on,” Clara said, folding the paper briskly. “Let’s have a look and see if we can see anything strange about it.” The fireplace, however, seemed perfectly normal. It was big, admittedly, but there didn’t seem to be any loose bricks.
Neil, ignoring the heat, twisted his head and tried to peer up the chimney itself but his father drew him back. “The riddle says ‘by the firelight’, Neil,” he
pointed out. “It doesn’t mention the chimney. Anyway, we had the chimney sweep in last week and I was here all the time, watching. There were no secret packages tucked away up the chimney, I assure you!”
“It certainly doesn’t look as though this is the fireplace we’re looking for,” Mrs MacLean agreed.
“Actually, it could be any fireplace, anywhere,” John MacLean mused. “Possibly at Netherfield,” he added, his expression brightening. “There’s a huge fireplace in the big hall.”
Mrs MacLean looked at Clara apprehensively. “You didn’t see any witches while you were there, did you?” she asked.
Clara shook her head. “I didn’t have the chance,” she admitted. “Jewellery’s against the rules so I couldn’t wear my firestone. Neither could Neil.”
“Mind you, we could wear them under our uniforms,” Neil pointed out. “No one would ever know.”
“That’s true,” Clara agreed, “as long as we don’t have P.E. or anything.”
They pondered the riddle for some time but in the end gave up.
“I can’t make it out at all,” Neil said exasperatedly, pushing the paper to one side. “As far as I can see, it doesn’t give us any clue as to where the fireplace actually is!”
It was later that night when they were going upstairs to their bedrooms that Neil had a bright idea. “You know, Clara,” he whispered, “we could have a good look at the fireplace in the school hall when everyone’s asleep. I mean, nobody would be about at night, would they?”
Clara nodded in agreement. “What about meeting at midnight in the entrance hall, then? The witching hour!” she grinned.
10. Ill-met by Moonlight
Clara almost knocked her bedside lamp over as she grabbed for her alarm as it went off in a jangle of noise that set her pulses racing. Convinced that she must have woken at least half of the school, she switched it off hastily and sat up straight in bed, listening frantically. Nothing, however, stirred and she released her breath in a sigh of relief as she looked round the room. It was becoming more familiar now and the posters she’d stuck up on the walls looked really cool.
She slipped quickly into some dark trousers and pulled on a top, before twisting her long hair back into a ponytail so that it didn’t flop over her face.
It was then that she took a grey, dull-looking ring from the third finger of her right hand and transferred it to the ring finger of her left hand. She looked at her reflection in the long mirror fastened to the back of her bedroom door. It showed her room and nothing else. She was invisible. She smiled softly as she switched it back again. The magic rings were for emergencies only and really, there was no need for them at this time of night. No one would be around to see them and they’d be as quiet as mice.
Excitement thrilled through her as she thought of the adventure to come. Would they find the talisman in the hall fireplace? She hoped they would for otherwise the possibilities were endless. Most country houses had big, open fireplaces and if there was another clue in the riddle, she had yet to find it.
Cautiously, she opened her bedroom door and holding onto the banister made her way carefully down the spiral stair, grateful for the moonlight.
The school seemed totally deserted and although she crept quietly along at first, her confidence gradually grew and by the time she reached the long corridor that led to the main staircase, she was striding along, thoroughly enjoying the adventure.
She stopped abruptly, however, when a black shadow suddenly swept across the stretch of windows that lined the corridor. An owl, she thought, flying in front of the moon? No, surely it was too big for an owl. She turned and, looking out to see what sort of bird it was, clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a scream. There, flying in the darkness above the grounds of the school was a witch; a witch on a broomstick.
Heart racing frantically, she stood rooted to the spot, unable to take her eyes off the shadowy figure that was growing ever smaller as it headed out towards the main road and the hills beyond. She was only roused from her trance by a whispered voice.
“Clara,” she heard Neil call from the end of the corridor. “Clara? Where are you?”
Clara turned. She had forgotten all about meeting Neil. “Neil,” she choked.
He ran lightly up to her. “What’s the matter?” he hissed. “Clara! What’s wrong?”
“Neil,” she said, grabbing him urgently, “you’ll never guess what I’ve just seen! I … I was on my way to meet you and … and something flew across the window. You’re never going to believe this but … it was a witch,” she said, “a witch on a broomstick!”
“A witch!” Neil’s eyes narrowed as he strode to the window and looked out over the moonlit grounds. “There’s nothing there now,” he observed.
“I know,” she whispered impatiently. “But that isn’t what’s freaking me out! Listen to me, Neil! I reckon she came from inside the school. I’m sure she did; from one of those windows over there.”
“I think that’s the staff living quarters,” Neil said, peering out.
“You know what it means, don’t you?” she said in a whisper.
“Yes,” Neil’s voice was hard as he answered, “It means that one of the staff is a witch! Look,” he said, “what if we just have a quick peep at the fireplace in the big hall. If we do it now, then at least it’ll be over and done with — and it won’t take long, either.”
“Okay,” Clara whispered, taking a deep breath. “Let’s go!”
They slipped silently down the main staircase and over the stone-flagged floor towards the hall. For a moment, Neil thought it might be locked but the door handle turned quite easily and, shivering with excitement, they crept inside.
Moonlight lit up row upon row of chairs, set out for assembly the next morning, but they only had eyes for the massive fireplace at the far end of the hall.
It was so big that when they clambered inside, Clara found she could stand upright under the chimney. But although they went over it carefully, there was nothing to show that anything had been hidden there.
Clara looked disappointed as she stepped back and shook her head. “There doesn’t seem to be anything here,” she whispered.
“What about the library?” Neil said, pursing his lips thoughtfully. “It has a big fireplace in it as well.”
Clara nodded. She had recovered from the shock of seeing the witch and wasn’t the least bit tired. Besides which, she was quite enjoying their midnight adventure. The library, however, was further away than she’d thought and she quickly lost track of where she was. “Is it much further?” she whispered.
“Just along here,” he replied.
They both stopped, however, when they reached the heavy, panelled door, looking at it uncertainly. It was ajar. Someone was in the library! At this time of night? Who could it possibly be? Neil leant forward quietly. “Change your ring over,” he breathed in her ear, “just in case …”
Clara nodded and promptly disappeared as she changed her magic ring to the other hand. She couldn’t see Neil now and, reaching out, felt for his arm as he pushed the door open a little further so that they could slip inside.
At first they couldn’t see anybody. Maybe, Neil thought, the door had just been left open by accident; but then again, perhaps not.
Don’t let there be a witch, Clara was thinking. Please, don’t let there be a witch.
Walking silently, they moved from aisle to aisle, slipping between the high bookcases, searching each alcove for the intruder. Then they saw him and Clara breathed a sigh of relief. Thank goodness, she thought. It wasn’t a witch, after all; it was one of the staff.
Neil froze, recognizing the German teacher, Herr von Grozny. At first he thought, quite naturally, that the man had come to the library to look for a book but this was not the case. Not the case at all. The man was obviously searching for something, his hands moving swiftly and methodically behind the rows of books.
Neil pulled on Clara’s hand and they moved closer to him. It was a mis
take. They realized it the minute the man stiffened. His head lifted and he seemed to sniff the air before whirling round, his pale blue eyes searching the room.
Neil couldn’t believe it. He knew they were there! Heart beating fast, he tugged on Clara’s hand.
She didn’t need to be told. They had to get away. Nerves tense they moved steadily backwards, very gently, step by step. Herr von Grozny, however, made for the door at a run and Neil’s heart sank as he realized that the room, although huge, was a trap. There was only one way in and out.
Just as Von Grozny reached the door, however, one of the school janitors appeared; a stooped, elderly man with greying hair.
“Is anything the matter, Herr von Grozny?” he asked.
There was a curious, strained silence. Von Grozny straightened and his eyes flashed coldly blue as they met those of the old man. Such was the tension between them that Clara gripped Neil’s hand hard.
“No,” Von Grozny said slowly, “I came down to look for a book.”
“You didn’t find it, then?” the janitor said, observing his empty hands.
“Er … no, I didn’t.” He looked at his watch. “My goodness, it’s much later than I thought. My apologies. I’ll look for it again tomorrow.”
“That’s fine then, Sir,” the janitor smiled. “Off you go and I’ll lock up.”
Von Grozny shot the man a furious, somewhat baffled, look before striding swiftly away down the corridor. The janitor, however, seemed in no hurry to leave. He left the door standing wide open as he inspected the library to see that everything was intact and by the time he returned, Neil and Clara were long gone.
11. Of Wolves and Witches
Once they had escaped from the library, Neil and Clara had hurriedly agreed not to wear their firestones in class in case the witch, whoever she was, sensed their magic. Still trembling with shock, their one idea was to reach the safety of their rooms in case von Grozny was still prowling the corridors. There was barely time to say anything else and for the rest of the week both had waited eagerly for Friday to come so that they could discuss what had happened.