by Lou Kuenzler
“It’s Bella, is it?” said Mrs Able, whisking me through to a soft pink room that she said was called the “lounge”.
“Yes, Mrs Able.” I was so overcome, I bobbed down on one knee, holding the frilly hem of my Gretel dress as if I was meeting a queen.
“That’s quite enough of that!” said Mrs Able.
“Sorry!” I was worried that I’d made her cross. But, when I looked up, I saw she was smiling harder than ever.
“Call me Rose,” she said. “Or Rosie … or whatever you like. Just not Mrs Able. It makes me feel as if I am in the queue at the doctor’s.”
“Eew!” I shuddered at the thought of the old witch doctor back in the Magic Realm with his cave full of crocodile teeth and pickled eyes in jars. “May I call you Aunty Rose?” I asked.
“Of course!” Mrs Able’s apple cheeks flushed pink. “Although, I am not your real aunt,” she said quickly. “It is important you understand that.”
“Oh, yes!” I nodded hard. I already had a real aunt and I didn’t want any more of those.
“I’d better be Uncle Martin, then,” said Mr Able, holding up his left hand. “High five?”
“Er…” Yet again, I had no idea what I was meant to do. Persons are stranger than I thought. “High five!” I waved at him and wiggled my fingers in the air.
“Righty-ho!” Uncle Martin laughed and wiggled his fingers back. “Welcome to the family, Bella. We’ve waited a long time to meet someone as special as you.”
“Oh, I’m not special,” I said. “I couldn’t even get into Creepy Castle School. Just ask Nightshade Newtbreath…” I trailed off, remembering I wasn’t supposed to tell them anything about coming from the Magic Realm.
“Well, I don’t know who this Newty Nightbreath is,” said Aunty Rose, laying her hand gently on my shoulder, “but you’re very special to us. We couldn’t have children of our own, you see … so we’re bound to spoil you rotten.”
“Rotten?” My heart sank. I should have known there would be rot and mould if Aunt Hemlock was involved. Though I couldn’t see any. The room was spotlessly clean – especially the big shiny screen in the corner.
“Do you like a bit of telly?” asked Uncle Martin.
“Er, yes please … but only a small portion,” I said quickly. I hoped telly didn’t taste like Aunt Hemlock’s maggot-mush stew. Uncle Martin and Aunty Rose exchanged a glance and I knew at once that I’d got it wrong.
“Pickled porcupines, I’ve said something silly, haven’t I?” I blushed. “Telly … Telly-vision, of course.” They were talking about the big black screen. I had seen pictures of them in the Sellwell catalogue (pages 242–259), but I had no idea what they were for.
“Nonsense.” Aunty Rose took my arm. “It’s no wonder you’re thinking about food. You must be starving. Why don’t I run you a nice hot bath while Uncle Martin makes you some breakfast?”
“Good idea. I’m starving too,” said Uncle Martin, stretching sleepily. “Though I don’t know why. It’s still only half past five in the morning.”
I glanced out the window. A pale summer dawn was creeping over the garden.
“It is strange you were brought to us in the middle of the night,” said Aunty Rose as she led me up the stairs. “I’ll give the council a ring when their offices open.”
I wondered if the council was like the coven of witches who meet every full moon to decide on new punishments. A terrible thought struck me. “Will the council be able to send me away?”
“Don’t you worry about a thing,” said Uncle Martin. “The lady from FAKE said it would all work like magic!”
“Yes, like magic,” I agreed, curling my hands around the hope-moth jar in my apron pocket. I realized Aunt Hemlock would hex the council too. But, suddenly, I didn’t care what sort of cunning spells she had cast across the Person World – just so long as I got to stay.
Aunty Rose led me to a pretty little room with blue-and-white tiles and pictures of dolphins on the walls. She began to run clear, clean water into a sparkling white bath. Steam rose up and clouded the window.
“Hot water!” I gasped. I was only ever allowed a proper bath (rather than a squelch in the swamp) once a year – in the freezing sheep trough at Halloween.
“And a real toilet!” I dashed forward and peered inside the deep bowl. “What happens if I pull this?” I tugged at the little silver handle on the side. “Jiggling jellyfish!” I cried as a whooshing whirlpool swirled underneath me.
“Goodness!” laughed Aunty Rose. She was looking at me very strangely. “How about some bubbles? Then I’ll leave you to it.”
Five minutes later, I was soaking in a warm, bubbly peach-smelling bath. “Who says Persons can’t do magic,” I grinned, sinking down so that only my nose was poking out above the foam. “Aunt Hemlock could learn a thing or two.”
Chapter Eight
I lay in the bubbly bath so long, my skin turned as wrinkly as a toad’s kneecaps. “Don’t you dare laugh!” I said, poking my soggy finger at the steamed-up mirror above the sink.
The mirror said nothing.
“Of course!” I smiled, drying myself on a snowy-white towel. “You can’t talk, can you? You’re just an ordinary mirror. Not a magic one at all.”
I wiped the glass and peered at my reflection. For the first time ever, I was pleased I didn’t have any hairy green warts on my nose. Uncle Martin and Aunty Rose didn’t have any either.
“If only I didn’t have to wear these silly clothes. They’re definitely not right for the Person World,” I sighed, climbing back into the Gretel costume. I slipped my hand inside the apron pocket, checking the tiny hope-moth jar was still safe.
Then I flushed the toilet again (twice), just for fun!
Aunt Hemlock’s spell must have been a pretty powerful one. By the time I came downstairs, Aunty Rose had phoned the council. They sounded surprised but confirmed that all the paperwork to foster Miss B. Broomstick (me!) had been filed. Everything was in order. As long as the hope-moth stayed safely inside its jar, I would be able to stay here for ever. I did a dance of joy and my frilly apron flew up in the air.
“I think we’d better get you some new clothes,” laughed Aunty Rose, as if she had understood my deepest wish. “You can’t wear that funny thing all the time.” She looked me up and down. “How about a little shopping trip?”
“Shopping?” A thousand fireworks exploded in my tummy. “Like the Sellwell Department Store Catalogue?”
“Catalogue?” smiled Aunty Rose. “We can do even better than that!”
“Breakfast first,” ordered Uncle Martin, popping his head around the kitchen door. “Is there anything you don’t like to eat, Bella?”
“Well … I’m not too fond of frogspawn porridge,” I said, shyly.
“Frogspawn?” Uncle Martin and Aunty Rose threw back their heads and laughed. “You are funny,” they said.
Uncle Martin made boiled eggs – not rotten ones like Aunt Hemlock cooks, and we didn’t have to eat the shells either.
“Ready?” said Aunty Rose when I had eaten every yummy crumb. She grabbed her handy bag (as Aunt Hemlock would call it). “We need to go into town. That’s where the fancy shops are.”
“Jumping jawbones!” I was so excited, my feet barely touched the ground as we stepped out of the front door.
“I’ll stay here,” said Uncle Martin. “I want to build a new nesting box for my birds.”
Aunty Rose raised her eyebrows. “He’s bird-barmy!” she whispered. “Spends every minute cooing and clucking around the garden, as if he had feathers himself.”
I smiled and turned to wave goodbye, when I heard a noise like a screaming banshee coming down the road.
“Sounds like a police siren,” said Aunty Rose.
“They’re heading next door to Hawk Hall again.” Uncle Martin pointed to the huge grey house I had seen last night. There was a screech of wheels and a flash of blue light as a bright white vehicle skidded to a stop outside the tall iron gates.
“A car!” I whispered to myself. “So they really are real. Look!” I cried as a tiny, terrified kitten darted around the side of the big grey house and scurried away.
“Poor little thing. It’ll be in trouble if Mr Seymour sees it.” Aunty Rose pointed to a sign hanging on the spiky railings:
HAWK HALL
PRIVATE PROPERTY
KEEP OUT!
“Mr Seymour does not like trespassers … not even cats,” she said as the gates swung open and the police car drove through.
“Surely the poor little kitten isn’t doing any harm?” I said.
“No.” Uncle Martin shook his head. “Mr Seymour claims he saw something flying over the village…”
“Last night?” I asked. My heart pounded as I remembered how the man had shouted at us when we flew over on Aunt Hemlock’s broomstick.
“Apparently he called the police right away but they said he’d have to wait until morning,” explained Uncle Martin.
“Mr Seymour is forever calling them about something,” said Aunty Rose. “He thought he saw an alien spaceship last week. And what was it before that?”
“A flying carpet,” chuckled Uncle Martin.
I held my breath as two Police Persons stepped out of the car. Were they looking for me? Did they already know I was a witch?
But they turned towards us with a friendly wave. I was relieved to see they had two eyes each and were only half the size of the giant Cyclops Cops back in the Magic Realm.
“What exactly did Mr Seymour say he saw in the sky?” I asked, my tummy churning like a bubbling cauldron. The Police Persons might look friendly but they still had metal handcuffs on their belts.
“Have a guess,” smiled Uncle Martin. “You’ll never believe it.”
“Er… Maybe a witch?” I squeaked. “On a broomstick?”
“Well I never!” nodded Uncle Martin. “Spot on!”
“You’re a smart one!” said Aunty Rose.
And they both stared at me in surprise, yet again.
Chapter Nine
We left Merrymeet village and drove to town … on a bus! The journey took ages but I didn’t mind. There were so many new Persons to look at, and not one of them had a wobbly green wart. (I tried not to stare at them too much.)
We wound along the country roads, past a big white windmill on a hill. I was so busy looking at all the different Persons, I almost didn’t notice that we had arrived in town.
“This is us,” said Aunty Rose, stepping off the bus. “Stay close – I don’t want you getting lost!”
I had never been anywhere so crowded in all my life. There were hundreds of Persons hurrying along the street. I felt I might be lifted up and carried away like a stick in a stream.
The tall buildings were big and black and as shiny as beetle wings. Then we turned the corner and I stopped as still as if I’d been frozen by a spell.
Ahead of us was a big silver building, seven stories high with shining windows on every floor.
“SELLWELL DEPARTMENT STORE!” I gulped, reading the giant letters above the door. “It’s not just a catalogue … it’s a real shop.”
“Of course,” grinned Aunty Rose. “Shall we go in?”
As we walked up to the big glass doors, they opened all by themselves, as if someone had waved a magic wand. “How did that happen?” I asked. But, before Aunty Rose could answer, I grabbed her hand again. “Look!” I pointed to a big display in the window.
And there … right in the middle … was the fabulous, feathery flamingo pen.
“That’s my very favourite thing in the whole Sellwell catalogue,” I grinned. I couldn’t believe I was seeing it in real life!
“It is lovely,” laughed Aunty Rose, leading me into the shop.
She had to keep pulling me along as I stopped to stare at all the wonderful treasures on display.
“There’s the escalator,” said Aunty Rose and we stepped on to a flight of moving steps. “We need the fourth floor.”
“Wondrous Wizards!” Without even moving our feet, we were carried up to the children’s clothes department. If we had been in the Magic Realm, I would have thought someone had put an enchantment on the stairs.
“You are going to need some everyday things,” said Aunty Rose. “And some underwear and pyjamas too.”
I couldn’t believe all the brightly coloured clothes. Everybody in the Magic Realm always wore black and grey. And there were no cloaks or pointy hats here either.
In the end, I think I must have tried on just about everything in the shop, but this is what we chose:
My favourite was the pyjamas. “Can I wear them home?” I asked.
“Not in the street,” smiled Aunty Rose. I was never going to understand all the rules of the Person World!
I put on shorts and a blue T-shirt instead. “Crazy crocodiles!” I said, jumping up and down in my new shoes. “These are the comfiest things I have ever worn.”
“Good,” said Aunty Rose. “And what about this?” She pointed to my Gretel dress with the frilly apron which was in a tangled heap on the changing room floor.
“Hmm,” I wrinkled my nose.
“We could save it for dressing up?” smiled Aunty Rose. “Or give it to the jumble…”
“What’s the jumble?” I asked. It sounded like the terrible mixed-up monster who lives in the bottom of Aunt Hemlock’s well…
“A jumble sale. Fancy not knowing what that is!” Aunty Rose looked at me strangely. “What a funny old life you must have lived,” she said. “It’s almost like you’re from another planet.” Then she blushed. “I’m sorry, pet. I don’t mean to pry. I am sure you’ll tell me more about it when you’re ready. A jumble sale is somewhere you sell things you don’t want any more. There’s a sale in the village today, in aid of the Merrymeet children’s playground.”
“Brilliant.” If someone else liked the Gretel dress, they were welcome to it. “I never want to see it again,” I said, digging my hands deep into the pockets of my new shorts. At last, I was beginning to look like all the other Persons I had seen.
“I’ll go and pay and meet you in the cafe,” smiled Aunty Rose. “There’s just one more thing I need to do.”
I stuffed the old Gretel dress into a bag and hurried to the cafe.
When Aunty Rose arrived, as well as the shopping bags of clothes, she was carrying a tiny pink paper bag and was smiling from ear to ear. “Now,” she said, “how about an ice cream before we head home?”
“Laughing ladybirds!” I grinned, licking ice cream off my spoon. If only Nightshade Newtbreath could see me now. Here I was sitting in the cafe at the Sellwell Department Store, wearing cool summer clothes and eating food so delicious it made my tongue tingle. Life in the Person World couldn’t be more perfect!
The bus stopped when we passed the old white windmill on the way home. A mother with a baby climbed on board and two girls followed her. The youngest was only tiny – but the older one looked about the same age as me.
She smiled at me as she walked past, holding her little sister by the hand. She had honey-coloured hair in a ponytail and freckles on her nose (not a single hairy wart or green tooth, of course).
The whole family wore clothes with pretty patterns on them, stripes and stars and flowers all mixed up together. Their outfits were nothing like my new clothes or any of the other things I had seen in the Sellwell Department Store. Some of the colours were a little faded and there were patches stitched on here and there, but they all looked so cheerful it made me grin. The baby was dressed like a bumblebee and I could hear bells tinkling on the bottom of the older girl’s skirt.
“Come on!” she said, swinging her little sister on to the back seat. They all clapped their hands and sang a song about “The Wheels on the Bus”.
I wished I was brave enough to join in – the two sisters were laughing so much. I thought how much fun it would be to make a friend now I was living in the Person World. The smiling older girl looked a LOT nicer than Nights
hade Newtbreath!
The singing stopped when we got near Merrymeet village. The girl pressed her face against the window as if she was looking for something she had lost.
I wished I could ask her what was wrong but, all of a sudden, I saw the white chimney of Honeysuckle Cottage and the tall spiked fence of Hawk Hall.
Aunty Rose rang a bell. “Time to get off the bus,” she said. “We’re home.”
I ran straight upstairs to my very own pretty pink bedroom with roses on the wallpaper. Aunty Rose said it used to be the spare room, but it could be mine from now on.
I unpacked all my new clothes and put them in the chest of drawers. I was just hanging up my dressing gown when Aunty Rose popped her head round the door.
“Leaping lizards!” I nearly jumped out of my skin. For a minute I thought she might be a Police Person coming to arrest me after all.
“Sorry to startle you,” she smiled, holding out the tiny paper bag she had got in the Sellwell Department Store. “But I just wanted to give you one more thing.”
“For me?” I stared at the little bag. It was far too small for another jumper or a pair of shoes, and I had enough knickers and socks for every day of the week.
“Go on,” said Aunty Rose. “Aren’t you going to open it?”
“Can I?” I took the bag and peeped inside. “It’s…” Suddenly I couldn’t speak. My throat was too tight. My fingers were shaking like a dragonfly’s wings.
“Oh, pet. Did I do something wrong?” Aunty Rose wrapped her arm around me. “It’s just a little treat from me and Uncle Martin … to say welcome to our home.”
“But … it’s the flamingo pen.” I held it up. It was fluffy and feathery and pink and perfect. “Thank you! It’s the most wonderful gift I could ever wish for!”