by Tania Ingram
‘That’s if the witch doesn’t get you first,’ Cooper mumbled through the crumbs.
‘For the last time, Miss Bunney is NOT a witch,’ I shouted. ‘What you did with the book today could have really hurt her, you know?’
‘It wouldn’t have hurt her because she is a witch,’ replied Cooper calmly. The book would simply have bounced off of her head. But the shock of it would have been enough for her to drop the pretence. Then you would have seen her true form.’
‘And what if you were wrong?’ I asked. ‘What if it had hit Miss Bunney and hurt her or killed her even?’
‘Then I would apologise and admit I was wrong,’ Cooper coolly replied. He paused for a few seconds. ‘But I’m not wrong. She is a witch.’
I grabbed Cooper from the bed and put him back into his night box.
‘Stay here!’ I growled.
‘Okay,’ Cooper agreed cheerfully. ‘But if you don’t mind, can you please pass me another biscuit? They are my favourites you know.’
Tyrone and I went out to the tree house to talk. I told him about what had happened at school.
‘Miss Bunney, a witch?’ Tyrone said doubtfully. ‘She’s one of the nice teachers at school. If anyone was a witch it would be Mrs Fontane. She’s horrible.’
‘I don’t know what to do about Cooper,’ I said. ‘It’s not like I can lock him up or anything. He will just disappear or teleport if I try.’
‘Perhaps we should pretend to go along with him then,’ said Tyrone. ‘Maybe if he thinks we believe him he won’t feel the need to prove that Miss Bunney is a witch.’
‘I guess it is a start,’ I said. ‘At least he won’t go around dropping books on her head at every chance. It might buy us enough time to work out what to do next.’
So after dinner that night, Tyrone and I went to my room and took Cooper out of his cage.
‘All right,’ I said. ‘Say Miss Bunney is a witch. Why would she be working as a teacher then?’
‘To be near the children of course,’ Cooper declared. ‘Witches need the essences of children to stay alive. It is how they live for hundreds of years.’
‘What do you mean . . . essences?’ Tyrone asked.
‘Essences. Life force,’ Cooper said. ‘Children have a very strong and pure life force. A witch would only need a little here and there to keep herself in shape. Without it she would shrivel up and die.’
‘But if Miss Bunney was stealing the life force from children then surely it would be obvious,’ I said. ‘I mean, parents would be asking questions if children were dying all over the place.’
Cooper rolled his eyes. ‘If a witch only takes a little of your life force, you don’t die from it. You simply get a runny nose and a cough.’
‘Like a cold?’ Tyrone asked.
‘Yes,’ Cooper said. ‘Although I never understood why humans call it that.’
‘But colds are caused by viruses,’ I protested. ‘We learnt about it during science last year.’
‘What a lot of rubbish,’ said Cooper. ‘Colds are caused by witches. You really don’t know anything, do you?’
I thought about the bad cold I had last year. It had begun the day after I had stayed behind after class to help Miss Bunney wash out the classroom bins. Could Cooper be right? Was Miss Bunney a witch?
‘So how does she steal the essence?’ I asked. ‘Surely we would remember a witch stealing our essence.’
Cooper rubbed a paw across his nose. ‘I’m not sure how they do it. I’ve personally never witnessed it happening. I suppose the witch must use a forgetting spell or something like that.’
‘Well there is only one way to find out for sure,’ I said. ‘We will have to somehow catch Miss Bunney in the act of stealing someone’s essence.’
‘Or we could just drop a book on her head,’ Cooper suggested.
‘No dropping books on anyone!’ I said firmly. ‘We will have to find another way.’
I watched Miss Bunney closely for the rest of the week and didn’t see anything to suggest she was a witch. She simply seemed to be a kind old lady.
I’d made a deal with Cooper that I would drop him off at the library each day if he promised not to drop books on anyone. During library hour that week I searched for a book on witches.
Miss Bunney seemed surprised by my choice. ‘Witches, Jinnifer?’ she said. ‘I never took you to be the kind of person that would be interested in such a topic.’
‘I’m just doing research for the Halloween parade,’ I lied. ‘I was thinking of dressing up as a witch this year.’
‘Oh, I see. Well I have a lovely old cloak and hat that you are welcome to borrow if you’d like,’ Miss Bunney said. ‘My mother made them for me when I was younger. I played the role of a wicked witch in a community production.’ She curled her fingers in front of her face and wrinkled her nose in a mock-witch pose. ‘I was a very good actress you know.’
‘Thanks,’ I said as I stuffed the book into my bag. I fiddled with my zip as though I couldn’t get it to close.
Miss Bunney watched me for a few moments before wandering off to help another student. I made my way to the back of the library and cupped my hands to the side of my mouth.
‘Cooper,’ I whispered. ‘Are you here?’
Cooper appeared to my right. ‘Over here,’ he answered. He was jiggling with excitement. ‘Just wait until you see what I’ve found,’ he said.
I put my arm out and Cooper climbed up on to my shoulder. He pointed his nose towards the door that led to Mrs Parker’s office.
‘In the office,’ he said. ‘Now you will see that I am right about Miss Bunney.’
I cautiously walked to the office door and looked inside. Mrs Parker wasn’t there.
‘There is an old book behind the pelmet board of the bookshelf,’ Cooper said. ‘See if you can grab it.’
The bookshelf was made from heavy wood and looked very old. Across the top, a carved piece of wood rose up in a graceful arc. I reached up behind it and felt around.
The top of the bookshelf felt dusty and slightly sticky. I couldn’t feel any book.
I placed a chair in front of the bookshelf and tried again. Cooper jumped to the top and pushed something towards me. My hand grasped the object. It was an old book with a pale, cracked leather cover. The pages of the book were yellowed with age and the edges were gilt with gold. A HISTORY OF MILLER SPRINGS was printed on the front cover.
Suddenly I heard Mrs Parker’s voice. I jumped down from the chair and stuffed the book into my bag just as Mrs Parker came into the room. She was holding a cup of coffee and a biscuit.
‘Jinnifer,’ she said surprised. ‘What are you doing in here?’
‘I was looking for you,’ I said quickly. ‘I was wondering if you could help me find a book on guinea pigs.’
Mrs Parker looked slowly around the room and then back to me.
‘Guinea pigs you say? I’m sure we would have something on guinea pigs somewhere. Let’s go and take a look.’
She placed her coffee and biscuit on her desk and ushered me out of the office. Five minutes later I was borrowing a book called Caring for Small Pets. Mrs Parker went back to her office. I watched her return to her desk and pick up her coffee. She took a sip and then reached down to where she had put her biscuit. The biscuit had disappeared and only a small pile of crumbs remained where it had once been.
Cooper had struck again.
When I got home from school, I ran up to my room and pulled out the old book. Tyrone sat next to me with Cooper on his lap. Cooper turned the pages with his nose.
‘There,’ he said, stopping at a page halfway through the book. He placed his paw on a grainy black and white photograph of a group of people standing before a stage. The men in the photo wore dark vests and long jackets with rounded black hats. The women were dressed in heavy, layered dresses with large collared necks and full skirts. Their hair was tightly pulled back into neat buns. On the stage were a group of actors dressed as sailors and soldi
ers. The heading under the picture said ‘Miller Springs Community Theatre, circa 1864’.
‘What am I looking for?’ I asked Cooper as I scanned over the page.
‘Look at the lady at the back right of the photograph,’ Cooper replied.
I squinted and looked more closely at the photograph. In the right of the picture, standing by the stage stairs, was an elderly woman in a black dress and hat. Her grey hair was pulled back into a taut bun and she stared defiantly towards the camera with a fixed smirk on her face. I dropped the book back onto the bed.
‘It couldn’t be . . .’ I said in surprise.
‘It is,’ replied Cooper.
Tyrone grabbed the book and stared at the photograph. ‘It’s Miss Bunney!’ he gasped. ‘And she hasn’t changed a bit since 1864!’
We spent the rest of the evening searching through the book to see what else we could find. Apart from a few articles talking about missing children and strange goings-on in the town, there was nothing that mentioned witches or Miss Bunney specifically.
‘So what do we do now?’ I asked Cooper.
‘Perhaps we should tell Mum,’ said Tyrone.
‘Mum wouldn’t believe us,’ I said. ‘She would just say it was someone who looked like Miss Bunney.’
‘Perhaps it is a relative of Miss Bunney’s,’ Tyrone said hopefully.
‘It’s not,’ said Cooper firmly. ‘It’s her. I know a witch when I see one.’
‘But how can we prove it?’ I said. ‘No one will believe us.’
‘I know! I can drop two books on her head!’ Cooper said.
‘Cooper! No books dropped on heads. We need to think of something else.’
Cooper twitched his nose in excitement. ‘I haven’t had a good witch-hunt in years,’ he said. ‘Let’s make a plan.’
It was another week before we could put our plan into action.
A boy in my class called Robert Canfield had been given detention for writing on the toilet walls. Miss Bunney had suggested that Robert spend detention helping her clean out some of the costumes and props in the theatre store room behind the school stage.
On the afternoon of Robert’s detention, Cooper, Tyrone and I hid in a forgotten space under the stage that I’d discovered one school clean-up day.
We huddled down between a dirty sofa and a cracked mirror. I saw a fat brown spider scuttle across the mirror’s frame and I shivered.
From our hiding place we could see the theatre closet through a broken slat of wood. It was a tight squeeze and the dust tickled our noses.
‘I don’t like it here,’ Tyrone whined. ‘It smells funny and makes my nose itchy.’
‘Just make sure you stay quiet,’ I told him. ‘We don’t want Miss Bunney to find out that we are spying on her.’
‘What if I need to sneeze?’ Tyrone complained, rubbing his nose.
‘Then hold it in, whatever you do,’ I said.
‘You know, you shouldn’t hold in sneezes,’ Cooper piped up. ‘I once knew a boy who held in a sneeze and it went back up his nose and blew his eyes clean out of his head.’
Tyrone looked at Cooper alarmed. ‘Really?’ he asked.
‘Really,’ Cooper replied. ‘His eyes shot across the room and landed in a bowl of noodles.’
Tyrone touched his eyes as though he expected them to fall out.
‘Don’t listen to Cooper, Tyrone’ I said. ‘He is just telling silly stories again.’
Cooper was just about to protest when we heard voices.
It was Miss Bunney and Robert Canfield.
Robert was set to work, pulling out the contents of the theatre store room and dusting off the small tables and chairs before setting them to one side.
Miss Bunney had brought a large wheelie bin with her and was busily throwing broken props and bits of plastic beading into the bin.
I was beginning to think that perhaps we had been wrong when I saw Miss Bunney take something from her cardigan pocket.
It was a round glass container with a tin lid. Inside were what appeared to be small red lollies.
Miss Bunney quickly looked around the room and opened the container.
She called to Robert to take a break and gestured for him to sit down on a nearby chair.
‘You have been working very hard, dear,’ she told Robert. ‘I thought you deserved a break. Would you like a sweet?’
She held the container out to Robert who took a lolly and popped it into his mouth.
‘Yum,’ he said as he bit into the lolly.
Suddenly Robert’s eyes grew wide. He slumped forwards in his chair as though he had fallen asleep. Miss Bunney snapped her fingers.
‘Up!’ she commanded in shrill voice that I had never heard her use before.
Robert’s body snapped to attention, stiff and straight in the chair.
His eyes were open but they seemed glazed, almost as though he had been frozen.
Miss Bunney stepped towards Robert and took his chin in her hand. She placed her face in front of his and began to chant.
Upon finishing her spell, a white light appeared from Robert’s mouth. Miss Bunney smiled, closed her eyes and sucked in a big breath.
As she did, the white light formed a swirling stream, moving from Robert’s mouth to her own.
Miss Bunney drank in Robert’s essence until the white light became a thin thread.
She stood up and gave a satisfied sigh. Then she placed the lolly container back into her cardigan pocket and snapped her fingers once more.
‘Awake,’ she commanded.
Robert shook his head and rubbed his eyes as though he had just woken from a deep sleep.
‘You look tired, dear,’ Miss Bunney said to Robert in a gentle voice. ‘I do hope you’re not coming down with something.’
She placed her hand on Robert’s shoulder. ‘I tell you what, let’s get this stuff back into the cupboard and call it a day.’
Robert nodded and put the rest of the props back into the store room. Then he and Miss Bunney walked back in the direction of the classroom.
Tyrone pulled his hand from over his mouth. His eyes were huge with fear.
‘Did you see that?’ he asked me. ‘Did you see it?’
‘I saw it,’ I said, trying to sound braver than I felt. ‘I think we should get out of here and go home.’
Tyrone blinked and nodded at me.
Cooper was standing on the sofa still looking in the direction where Robert and Miss Bunney had gone. He turned to face me and Tyrone.
‘So,’ he said smugly. ‘Do you believe me now?’
The next morning I briefly saw Robert Canfield in the hallway at school. He looked dreadful. His eyes were red and watery, and snot dripped from his nose. He never even made it to class. The school called his mother to come and pick him up. It seems Cooper had been right. Colds were caused by witches, not viruses.
In contrast, Miss Bunney seemed in a particularly cheerful mood. She hummed as she straightened the readers on the shelf and she even let the class out for lunch before the bell.
Tyrone and I spent lunchtime in the library with Cooper. I had brought the book I’d borrowed on witches and together we read through every page.
The book contained a history of witches throughout Europe and America, with stories of witch-hunts and trials complete with lavish illustrations. It covered the common tools believed to be used in witchcraft like candles, wands, spell books, cauldrons, broomsticks and black cats.
However there was nothing in the book about how to get rid of a witch.
It did mention using salt to make a protective circle though. Apparently a witch can’t enter a circle of salt or use magic against a person who is standing within the circle. That was good to know at least. But it still didn’t solve the problem of Miss Bunney.
‘Perhaps we can build a giant oven and push her in?’ Tyrone suggested. ‘It worked for Hansel and Gretel.’
‘And we can make biscuits while we are at it!’ Cooper added.
&
nbsp; ‘I somehow don’t think that’s very realistic,’ I replied. ‘Perhaps we can find something that scares Miss Bunney and frighten her out of town.’
‘Well, witches are scared of potatoes,’ Cooper said. ‘Everyone knows that. We could leave bowls of potatoes on her desk and in her handbag.’
I rolled my eyes. ‘Potatoes! Cooper, now is not the time for one of your funny stories.’
‘It’s not a story and I wasn’t being funny,’ Cooper sniffed, offended. ‘I don’t exactly know why witches are scared of potatoes but I think it has something to do with all of those eyes.’
‘Eyes?’ Tyrone said looking confused.
‘Not real eyes,’ I said. ‘The little bumps on a potato where the roots grow from are called eyes.’
‘Oh, right,’ Tyrone said, relaxing again.
The bell rang announcing that lunchtime was over.
‘We’ll have to think about it some more tonight,’ I said. ‘Cooper, you keep searching the library for any books that might be helpful and Tyrone, don’t breathe a word about this to anyone. We don’t want Miss Bunney finding out that we know her secret.’
But, the next day, that is exactly what happened.
It was the first Friday of the month and every first Friday of the month we have a school assembly.
Our school principal, Mr Finley, gave his usual speech about how proud he was of the school as he listed the achievements of various sporting groups.
The younger children showed off some of their artwork and the school band played the national anthem badly.
Then teachers spoke about their classroom news and the assembly finished just as the recess bell rang.
As the children stood up to go back to class I heard Miss Bunney talking to Tyrone’s teacher.
‘I just need a smaller child to measure the shelf heights with, to make sure all children will be able to reach them,’ she was saying. ‘It should only take five minutes or so.’
Tyrone’s teacher nodded and gestured to her class. ‘Who would you like?’ she said.