Before Grace-Ella had a chance to reply, they heard a shuffling and scraping from the other side of the fence. Up popped Bedwyr, fully dressed in his bug-busting gear – a green jumper with brown leather patches on the elbows, camouflage trousers, a black, fur-rim deerstalker hat and swimming goggles (which he insisted gave him X-ray vision).
‘Is the coast clear? No dangerous Snootyius Ladyiums lurking in the area?’ he asked.
‘All clear,’ Grace-Ella giggled. ‘Jump over.’
‘Snootyius Ladyiums?’ asked a puzzled Fflur.
‘That’s his scientific name for Mam,’ explained Grace-Ella.
Bedwyr landed in the garden, glanced at the back door then dashed across to the girls.
‘Ok, here’s the plan,’ he said. ‘I need to find a Hypothenemus Obscurus.’
‘A Hypotty-what?’ asked Grace-Ella.
‘It’s a beetle to you. An “Apple Twig Beetle” to be exact.’
Grace-Ella was always amazed at how Bedwyr knew the name of every bug that lived on the planet. His ambition in life was to find an undiscovered bug and name it himself.
‘So where will we find these hypotty-beetles?’ asked Fflur.
‘Mainly in the US,’ answered Bedwyr, grinning. ‘But you never know. We might just strike lucky. We could become famous for being the first to find one out of its native land.’
‘You’re mad,’ laughed Grace-Ella. Then, remembering why she’d invited her friends over, she sighed. She’d decided that today she would reveal her secret. Her stomach churned, but she couldn’t back out now. Taking a deep breath, she said, ‘Before we go on your beetle hunt, there’s something I want to tell you. But you must promise to keep it a secret. You can’t tell anyone.’
‘That sounds worrying,’ said Fflur. ‘You’re not ill, are you? Or moving away?’
‘No, nothing like that. Just promise first.’
Both Bedwyr and Fflur promised and waited for Grace-Ella to continue.
‘Let’s go in the summerhouse, I’ll tell you in there.’
Once they were inside, Grace-Ella began.
‘Well, I know this is going to sound completely crazy but … a few weeks ago … I found out that I’m … a witch.’
Bedwyr spluttered with laughter. ‘Oh, Grace-Ella. You do crack me up.’
‘It’s not a joke, it’s the truth,’ she said.
‘Oh, come off it,’ said Fflur. ‘You’re not a witch. It’s just another one of your batty ideas. Like when we decided that we were fairies and were going to live at the bottom of your garden.’
Grace-Ella shook her head. How was she going to prove to them that she was telling the truth?
‘Hey, don’t tell me, your dad’s a wise old wizard,’ said Bedwyr, chuckling.
‘Actually it comes from Mam’s side of the family,’ corrected Grace-Ella.
‘Your mam’s a witch? Now that I can believe,’ said Bedwyr.
Fflur gave him a nudge. ‘Perhaps we should listen to the whole story.’
‘Oh, come on, you don’t think she’s telling the truth? She’s just gone completely Lady Gaga on us, that’s all. Which is fine by me. Life’s too short to be dull and boring, that’s what Taid always says.’
‘I know I sound completely cuckoo. I could barely believe it myself, but I swear it’s the truth,’ said Grace-Ella, looking pleadingly at her friends.
‘Ok, let’s say you are telling the truth,’ said Fflur, ‘what exactly does it mean, anyway? That you can fly around on a broomstick and cast spells?’
‘I’m not sure about the flying on a broomstick bit yet,’ answered Grace-Ella, ‘but yes, I can cast spells.’
‘Really. Show us then,’ said Bedwyr.
‘I’m only supposed to cast spells when I’m alone or with other witches, but I’m sure I can trust you and there’ll be no harm done.’
Grace-Ella picked up her magic wand.
‘Here goes,’ she said, pointing her wand at the plate of Welsh cakes on the table. ‘Up, up and away, fly into the air. With a swish and a swosh, land over there.’
She waved her wand in the air then pointed it at her friends. Slowly, the cakes rose from the plate, twirled in the air then landed in Bedwyr and Fflur’s open hands.
‘You … they … giddy goose,’ stuttered Bedwyr.
‘Did that really just happen?’ whispered Fflur, wide-eyed.
Grace-Ella nodded. ‘Now do you believe me?’
The two bewildered friends stared at Grace-Ella.
‘Oh … my … google-doodle,’ said Bedwyr finally. ‘You really are a witch? That’s just bone-breakingly bonkers. And you called me mad! You’re like Mademoiselle Mad. This is mammoth with a capital M.’
He suddenly started doing what can only be described as some sort of tribal dance around the room, whooping and waving his arms in the air. When he’d finished, Grace-Ella turned to Fflur, who was very quiet.
‘It doesn’t mean that I’m different. Not really. I’m still just me.’
A smile spread slowly across Fflur’s face. ‘A witch. And you can cast real spells. That’s not crazy, that’s amazingly fabulous.’
‘I’m so glad you believe me,’ said Grace-Ella, relieved. ‘But you do promise to keep it a secret? And you do still want to be my friends?’
‘Of course we do,’ said Fflur, hugging her. ‘I can’t believe you’d think that we wouldn’t. You’ve always been my best friend and nothing’s going to change that.’
‘You’re actually stranger than me,’ added Bedwyr, ‘and that takes some doing. Besides, who else would help me look for bugs?’
‘Phew, that’s so great. I’ve been so worried about telling you. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t wanted to be my friends anymore.’
‘You silly old moo,’ said Fflur. ‘Who wouldn’t want a real witch as a best friend? This is so cool. Can you show us some more magic?’
The three friends were soon rolling about laughing as books and boots and cups and coats came to life and went flying around the room. They ducked and chased the flying objects as their bottoms were kicked by boots and coats landed over their heads, making them stumble into each other. The summerhouse was a picture of magical mayhem.
At midday, Mrs Bevin called from the back door for Fflur and Grace-Ella to come in for lunch.
‘I’d better go,’ said Bedwyr. ‘Don’t want the Snootyius Ladyium catching me here or she’ll start chasing me with her fly swatter again. Besides, I have to go into town to buy some new school shoes. Mam says I must sleep with my feet in a bag of compost, cos they don’t stop growing. I’m a size eight already. Beetle-scrunchers, Taid calls them. Shame I can’t get the hang of tying laces, mind. The lady in the shop always says, “A big boy like you should have learned to tie your laces by now.”’
He sat on the floor to put on his boots, frowning in concentration as he tried to tie the laces. When he thought he’d got it, he pulled both ends, but they just fell open untied.
‘Let me help you,’ said Grace-Ella, pointing her wand at Bedwyr’s boots. ‘Loop and twist, under and through. Tie up the laces of this shoe.’
Bedwyr watched as his laces carefully tied themselves.
‘The magic will stay on the laces till you’ve learnt how to tie them yourself. Just hold them and let your fingers follow what they do. You’ll soon get the hang of it.’
Grace-Ella and Fflur waved goodbye to Bedwyr as he climbed over the fence chanting, ‘Loop and twist, under and through. Loop and twist, under and through.’
‘So now that you’re a witch,’ said Fflur as they walked to the house, ‘does this mean that you can magic away Amelia?’
‘Unfortunately not,’ answered Grace-Ella.
‘Oh well, but I bet we can have some great fun with your magic, can’t we?’
‘Well, there’s definitely no rule in the book that says magic can’t be used for fun,’ said Grace-Ella, linking her arm through her friend’s.
Chapter Nine
The Pum
pkin Pie Disaster
‘The annual Halloween party will be on Friday night,’ Mrs Nag told the class on Monday morning. ‘There’ll be prizes for the best fancy dress costume and for St Winifred’s “Dancing Diva”.’
The classroom bubbled with excitement. The annual Halloween party was a highlight of the year and they couldn’t wait for Friday night.
‘I’ll have the best costume,’ boasted Amelia as the girls headed for their cookery lesson. ‘I’ve won for the last two years. And this year, Mami’s hiring a make-up artist so I’m going to look amazing and I’m so going to win.’
‘She’d definitely win as a poisonous black widow spider,’ Grace-Ella whispered to Fflur.
The giggling pair caught Amelia’s attention and she turned to glower at them.
‘You two don’t even need costumes. You’re freaky enough just as you are.’
‘Today we’re going to prepare pumpkin pies,’ said Mrs Bun, the cookery teacher. ‘You’ll work in pairs and the best pumpkin pie will be presented at the Halloween party.’
Grace-Ella and Fflur dashed off to their work area. Fflur often helped her mother to bake at home and was confident that they could produce a prize-winning pie.
‘We could win this,’ she said excitedly. ‘That would really annoy Amelia.’
With the preparations done, Mrs Bun walked around for a quick examination before the pies were placed in the ovens.
‘A little messy,’ she said to Megan and Catrin. ‘I think your filling may well ooze out of the sides.’
Next she inspected Ceinwen and Amelia’s pie.
‘Very neat girls, a great effort. I hope it tastes as good as it looks.’
Ceinwen and Amelia smirked at the rest of the class.
Lastly, Mrs Bun walked over to Grace-Ella and Fflur. Fflur had done most of the preparation but Grace-Ella had decorated the top of the pie with pastry pumpkin shapes.
‘What a wonderful-looking pie, girls, truly creative,’ she said. ‘The best preparation, I believe. Now into the ovens they go and when they’re done I’ll do the taste test before we decide on the winner.’
‘This is going to be truly scrumptious,’ said Fflur as Grace-Ella carefully placed the pie into the oven.
With their backs turned as they washed their dishes and cleared up, Grace-Ella and Fflur didn’t notice Amelia slyly make her way over to their work area. Crouching down out of Mrs Bun’s sight, she turned up the temperature dial on their oven to its highest setting.
As Grace-Ella turned to replace the clean chopping board on the top, she saw Amelia getting up off the floor.
‘Just looking for my ring. I thought I saw it roll over here,’ she said, before scurrying back to her own work area.
When the cleaning up was done, the class settled around the long table to write up their recipes.
‘Remember to list all the ingredients and to write the method clearly and concisely,’ said Mrs Bun, before pausing and sniffing the air.
The girls looked up from the table and watched as, like a sniffer dog, Mrs Bun prowled around the kitchen.
Stopping where Grace-Ella and Fflur had been working, she peered at the oven.
‘What on earth…?’
She opened the oven door. A cloud of black smoke billowed out. Grabbing a tea towel, she wafted the smoke out of her eyes just as the smoke detector started to beep maniacally.
‘Out to the yard everyone,’ she spluttered and coughed.
The girls rushed out to the schoolyard where Mrs Nag was standing, not looking too happy.
‘It seems that there’s been an incident in the kitchen,’ she announced. ‘Luckily, there has been no fire and no real damage. Perhaps the culprits will be willing to help Mrs Bun to clear up. The rest of you off to play.’
Grace-Ella and Fflur slowly made their way back to the kitchen.
‘I don’t understand,’ said Fflur. ‘I know I set the oven at the right temperature. I know I did.’
Mrs Bun was waiting for the girls in the kitchen, a little angry at the morning’s disruption.
‘That was a very careless thing to do, girls,’ she said. ‘You could have started a fire. You know we must always set the oven at the right temperature.’
‘But, Miss —’
‘No excuses, you have to be more careful. But I think you’ve learnt your lesson and you’ll have to miss out on the competition this year.’
She pulled the pie out of the oven and dropped it onto the worktop. Grace-Ella and Fflur stared in horror at the blackened mess, the neat decorative pumpkin shapes now unrecognisable. The girls were baffled and felt utterly miserable.
‘Wait a minute,’ said Grace-Ella. ‘When we were clearing up, Amelia came over here looking for her ring. I saw her getting up off the floor. Do you think…? No, she wouldn’t, would she?’
The two friends locked eyes.
‘Yes, she most certainly would,’ seethed Grace-Ella. ‘She can’t stand the thought of anyone doing better than her. What a … a … sneaky, slimy little snake. She’s not going to get away with this!’
Back at Number 32 later that day, Grace-Ella told Mr Whiskins all about the pumpkin pie disaster.
‘She really is a nasty piece of work, isn’t she?’ he said. ‘She’ll get her comeuppance one day. They say what comes around goes around, so don’t you worry any more.’
But Grace-Ella did worry about it. It was so unfair that Amelia could be so mean and not get punished. She didn’t know what to do. She certainly didn’t want to break any of the Council’s rules, but she also didn’t want to let Amelia get away with being so horrid. Would teaching someone a lesson be classed as seeking revenge?
Chapter Ten
Party Preparations
‘I wish I could come to your Halloween party,’ moaned Bedwyr on Thursday evening as he and Grace-Ella sat in the horse chestnut tree at the bottom of the garden. ‘We never have one at our school and I’d love to get all dressed up like some kind of venomous spider or something. I bet you’ve got all sorts of magical things planned and I’ll be missing out on it all. And Auntie Julie and Evan are coming over on Friday, so me and Evan will be sat in my room completely ignoring each other because we so don’t get on. All he talks about is football and who’s winning the prentice league or whatever it’s called. Hey, maybe if I dressed as a witch you could smuggle me in…’
‘Do you know,’ said Grace-Ella, ‘I think you’re right. That’s exactly what we should do.’
They jumped to the ground and landed in a messy heap.
‘Come over tomorrow about five o’clock. I’ve plenty of costumes and I’m sure we can transform you into the best-looking witch at St Winifred’s,’ she said.
‘If you say so,’ said Bedwyr. ‘I hadn’t exactly planned on getting dressed up as a girl, but it does kind of sound fun. But even if you do manage to get me in, what about dancing? These beetle-scrunchers are great for stomping, but they aren’t all girly-twirly. They’ll see through my disguise straight away.’
‘Leave it with me,’ said Grace-Ella, a twinkle in her eye.
Back in her bedroom, Grace-Ella browsed through ‘Potions: Part One’ and stopped at the ‘D’ section.
‘Aha,’ she said. ‘Just the thing. Come on, Mr Whiskins. We’ve got work to do.’
With the cauldron set up, she read out the ingredients.
‘A handful of bird’s feathers and a spoonful of honey … some spidery webs and wobbly jelly … a couple of pine cones to add some prickle and a pinch of glitter to add some sparkle.’
She stirred the ingredients and watched the liquid bubble to a sparkling silver.
‘Now for the magic words: Twist and swirl and give it a whirl. A dancing delight to make you twirl.’
When the potion was ready, Grace-Ella carefully poured it into a glass bottle.
‘Now I definitely know who’s going to be St Winifred’s “Dancing Diva!”’ she said.
‘I’ll go and get changed while you two sort your outfits out,’
said Fflur the following evening, leaving Grace-Ella and Bedwyr in the summerhouse.
Pulling out her dressing-up box, Grace-Ella rummaged through. She found a pair of orange-and-black-striped tights, a purple tutu and a black top with green stars on it.
‘Put these on to start with,’ she said, passing the assortment of clothes to Bedwyr. ‘I’ll just go and get dressed with Fflur and then I’ll add the final touches.’
‘Are you serious?’ he said, holding the purple tutu like it was a rotten old aubergine. ‘I am going to look ridiculous with a capital R.’
When Grace-Ella got to her bedroom, Fflur was already dressed in her cat costume.
‘It’s rubbish, isn’t it?’ she said glumly. ‘I did try, but I’m just not very good at making things. The others will laugh when they see me. I’ll be the biggest joke of the night.’
Grace-Ella hated seeing her friend look so miserable. But she had to agree, the costume was a bit lacking in originality and did look a little rushed.
The lumpy tail was made from a black stocking stuffed with newspaper balls, which had then been stapled to her black leggings. The ears were triangles of flimsy black card taped onto a hairband and were already drooping. She had painted the end of her nose black and put three long stripes on each cheek as whiskers.
‘Don’t worry. I think I know what we can do,’ said Grace-Ella.
‘What do you think?’ asked Bedwyr as Grace-Ella and Fflur returned to the summerhouse.
‘Witchtastic!’ said Grace-Ella. ‘Now, put this wig and hat on and I’ll put a bit of face paint on you and no one will suspect a thing.’
Bedwyr pulled on the black wig and pointy witch’s hat. Grace-Ella painted his face green, smudged black around his eyes then dotted a couple of ugly warts on his nose and chin.
Grace-Ella Page 4