Weava the Wilful Witch Read online

  ‘I packed them up to give to my neighbour, Mrs James, for her costume parties——’ Merry clapped her hand over her mouth.

  Weava cast a come-to-me-spell. Her clothes flew out of a box by the door and landed on the table.

  Merry’s phone rang. She walked over and picked it up. ‘Mary Charm speaking,’ she said. ‘Today? But I thought…’ She paused, and listened to the person speaking on the other end. ‘OK. I’ll bring the Candywaft perfume delivery now,’ she said, and hung up.

  Weava put on her old clothes. ‘I’m wearing these,’ she said.

  Her sister threw up her hands. ‘All right! I haven’t got time to argue. I have to go to work after all.’

  Weava noticed the box of pink bottles was back on the table.

  ‘I’ll come back at lunchtime,’ said Merry. ‘I can’t force you to stay in the flat——’

  ‘Yes, you can,’ said Weava. ‘Just pick up your wand and cast a stick-tight-spell at me.’

  Merry went pink. She strode over to Weava and snatched the wand out of her hand. Then she stuffed it into one of her dress pockets and headed for the door. Weava was about to yell at her, when she saw the kit-fae flitting behind her sister. It seized Weava’s wand from Merry’s pocket without her noticing. Then it darted back to Weava’s bedroom.

  ‘Oh, I almost forgot!’ said Merry. She turned back and went to the lounge-room table. She pulled out a drawer and removed the wand she had put there last night. This she stuffed into her other skirt pocket.

  She hoisted the box of perfume and staggered out the door. ‘Stay here!’ she yelled over her shoulder.

  ‘Huh,’ said Weava. ‘A fly-me-spell would be much easier. The box would float next to her while she walked.’

  ‘Very silly,’ agreed the kit-fae. Now Merry had gone, it slunk out of Weava’s bedroom, gripping Weava’s wand in its mouth. It spat it out onto the table, and sneezed.

  Weava helped herself to a slice of toast. Now, where had Merry put that jar of black-magic jam? She cast a spell and found the jar in the kitchen rubbish bin. Merry had thrown it away.

  Weava was insulted. ‘I made that!’ she said.

  ‘Your sister has human friends,’ said the kit-fae. It giggled. ‘Do you know what happens when humans eat witch food? They love it so much, they eat until they get tummy aches.’

  Weava grinned. ‘Right!’ she said. ‘I’ll make a black-magic jam cake and give some to that human girl Merry wants me to play with. That can be the beginning of my bad deed. Merry will have to do a spell to fix the girl’s tummy ache.’

  Weava found the ingredients for a cake in the pantry. She dumped flour in a basin and used her wand to beat it up with eggs and milk.

  The kit-fae perched on the edge of the basin and purred happily.

  Weava tipped the jam into the cake batter, mixed it well and poured it into a cake tin. Then she put the cake in the oven.

  Two hours later, the cake, gleaming and purple as a blackberry, sat like a toad on Merry’s best dainty plate.

  Weava was admiring it when she heard Merry coming upstairs.

  ‘Yoo-hoo! It’s me!’ called Merry.

  The kit-fae swished its tail. ‘I will not be yoo-hooed at,’ it said. It flitted into Weava’s bedroom.

  Merry poked her head into the kitchen. ‘Yoo-hoo!’ she said again.

  ‘You sound like an owl,’ said Weava.

  Merry goggled at the cake. ‘What is that?’

  ‘You know what it is,’ said Weava. ‘It’s a black-magic cake.’

  Merry frowned. She put her hand in her dress pocket, but Weava’s wand was no longer there. ‘How did you get your wand back?’

  ‘My friend took it,’ said Weava. ‘Didn’t you, kit-fae?’

  The fetch flew through back into the kitchen. ‘Indeed I did,’ it said.

  ‘Weava!’ said Merry. ‘I said no fairy breed in my flat! Don’t break rules!’

  ‘You did when you were my age.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Merry. ‘And look what happened! Dad sent me to that stupid college and…’ She trailed off. Then she shook her head, as if to clear it, and put her hand on Weava’s shoulder. ‘But everything is better now. And guess what? You can live with me from now on. Won’t that be lovely? I’ll send you to school and——’

  ‘Oh, that’s all arranged,’ said Weava. ‘My invitation to the Abademy came last night.’

  ‘You’re not going to the Abademy!’ said Merry. She looked at the cake again. ‘Get rid of this,’ she said.

  Weava cut a slice of the cake and put it in her mouth. ‘Mmmmm. It’s scrumptious! Have some, Merry.’ She cut another slice and pushed it at her sister.

  Merry shook her head.

  Weava licked her fingers. ‘I’ll share it with that Jemima girl from next door. She’ll love it.’

  ‘You can’t!’ gasped Merry. ‘It’ll make her sick. What would I say to her mother?’

  ‘It doesn’t make me sick,’ said Weava. ‘It’s a wandiful cake.’

  ‘Yes, but you’re a w——’ Merry closed her mouth. ‘You’re not giving Jemima that cake!’ She grabbed the plate, tipped the cake into the sink and turned on the waste disposal. ‘Go to your room, Weava!’ she yelled above the noise.

  Weava did as she was told. Frowning, she sat down on the bed.

  What would it take to make Merry angry enough to cast a spell?

  5. Jemima James

  Jemima James was sulking on the stairs outside her flat. She hated Brimstone Buildings.

  ‘Jem-mime-a!’ her mother called.

  When Jemima didn’t answer, Mrs James came out of the flat, wearing a green wig and carrying a pink one. ‘Cheer up, dear,’ she said to Jemima, plopping the pink wig on her head.

  ‘Ugh,’ said Jemima, pushing off the wig.

  ‘Come on, sweetie…get into the party spirit,’ said Mrs James.

  ‘You’re the one who likes parties, not me,’ muttered Jemima.

  ‘I wish you’d make an effort,’ said her mother. ‘I’m starting this children’s party business for you. I want you to have lots of fun.’

  Jemima sighed. ‘I don’t think fancy-dress parties are fun,’ she said.

  ‘Nonsense!’ Mrs James waved her hand. ‘Guess what? Mary Charm’s little sister is here for a visit. Her name’s Wendy, I think. Now you’ll have someone to play with.’

  Jemima stayed sitting on the stairs after her mother had gone. ‘Wendy Charm is a silly name,’ she said aloud.

  ‘I agree,’ said a voice.

  Jemima jumped as a girl appeared. She was Jemima’s size, and she had curly hair. She wore a long black dress that came almost to her ankles. Under that were striped stockings and buckled shoes. She held a broom in her right hand.

  ‘Where did you come from?’ Jemima asked the girl.

  ‘My sister’s flat,’ said the girl. ‘I sneaked out when she wasn’t looking.’

  ‘Is your name Wendy?’ said Jemima.

  The girl frowned. ‘It’s Weava. Get it right. Names are important to witches.’

  Jemima looked at Weava again. ‘Why are you wearing a witch costume? Mum hasn’t started her stupid dress-up children’s parties yet.’

  ‘I am a witch.’

  ‘You are not,’ said Jemima. ‘There’s no such thing.’

  ‘I am so,’ said the girl. ‘Merry’s one, too.’

  ‘Who’s Merry? Do you mean Mary from next door?’

  ‘Yes, she’s my sister. But her name’s not Mary.’ The girl sat down beside Jemima. ‘That woman with the green hair got her name wrong, too.’

  ‘That’s my mum,’ said Jemima. ‘How do you know what she said? You weren’t here.’

  ‘I was here,’ said Weava. ‘You just didn’t see me.’

  ‘But——’ Jemima began to protest. Suddenly, Weava wasn’t there any more.

  ‘Weava?’ Jemima glanced up and down the stairs. ‘Where did you go?’

  ‘Nowhere,’ said Weava’s voice, out of thin air.

  Jemima bl
inked. There Weava was again, sitting on a stair. ‘You’re a ghost?’

  ‘A witch,’ said Weava. ‘I didn’t go anywhere. I just put on my DNM spell so you couldn’t see me.’*

  ‘Witches aren’t real,’ said Jemima.

  Weava smiled. ‘Yes, they are. I’ll prove it to you. Let’s go to my room.’

  Jemima got up off the stair. ‘OK.’

  Weava got on her broom, and patted the stick behind her. ‘Jump on!’ she said.

  Jemima got on and put her arms around Weava. Weava whispered something, and the broom lifted into the air and glided down the stairs.

  Jemima gasped. ‘I thought we were going to your room!’

  ‘We are. Through the outside window,’ said Weava.

  Jemima clung to Weava as the broom shot through the entrance hall, out the doors, and bounced into the air in the street outside.

  ‘Duck!’ said Weava.

  Jemima ducked as the broom swept upwards, close to the back wall of Brimstone Buildings.

  Then the broom swooped through a window and landed in a bedroom.

  ‘This is my room,’ said Weava. She sat on the bed and nodded to Jemima to sit down, too.

  Jemima was glad to obey. Her insides felt as if she’d gone up in a lift very fast and then dropped back down again.

  ‘See,’ said Weava. ‘I told you witches were——’ She stopped short and stared at the foot of the bed.

  ‘What?’ said Jemima.

  ‘Hush,’ said Weava. ‘No, no,’ she said, still staring at nothing. ‘This is part of my bad deed.’ She paused. ‘Yes, I’m sure. Take off your DNM spell, so I can introduce you.’

  Jemima’s eyes widened as a black kitten appeared on the foot of the bed. At least, it looked like a kitten, but it was spikier than any kitten should be. ‘What’s that thing?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m not a thing. I’m the kit-fae,’ said the creature. It stretched two furry wings.

  ‘Uggg…’ said Jemima. ‘It talks!’

  ‘It’s fairy-breed, like me,’ said Weava. ‘There are lots of us about.’

  ‘Then how come I’ve never seen any before?’ asked Jemima.

  ‘That’s ‘cos we use DNM, or Don’t Notice Me, spells to make sure you don’t,’ said Weava.

  She frowned. ‘Well, mostly. My sister isn’t using hers now. She’s living like a human. She wants me to do it, too. I’m trying to force her to do a spell so she’ll have to stop pretending. But it’s difficult.’

  Jemima felt as if her brain was being stretched out of shape. ‘Um…what kind of spell?’ she asked.

  ‘I was going to give you some black magic cake, so you’d get a tummy ache,’ said Weava. ‘I thought Merry would do a spell to fix that, but instead she threw the cake away. She didn’t need magic for that.’

  ‘It was mean of you to hope I got a tummy ache!’ said Jemima. ‘I’ve never done anything bad to you!’

  ‘That’s the point,’ said Weava. ‘I have to do something really naughty, otherwise Merry will ignore it. Besides—I must do a bad deed so I can win my Badge of Badness. I can’t get into the Abademy without it.’ She smiled at Jemima. ‘The Abademy of Badness is a special school for fairy-breed. Once I’m there, I’ll be happy.’

  ‘I’d be happy, too, if Mum would stop trying to make me have fun,’ said Jemima. ‘I wish she’d listen when I tell her I don’t want to go to costume parties.’

  ‘Your mum and my sister should stop meddling,’ said Weava. ‘Maybe you could help me teach my sister a lesson, and I’ll do the same with your mum?’

  ‘It’s a deal,’ said Jemima.

  * * *

  *Fairy-breed use special ‘Don’t Notice Me’ spells to stop humans noticing them. They are called ‘DNM’s for short.

  6. Battle for the Broomstick

  ‘I’ve thought of a wandiful bad deed, Jemima,’ said Weava. ‘It will teach your mother a lesson, and force Merry to do something witchy.’

  She jumped off the bed. ‘Broomstick time! We’ll ride around this building and in and out of the windows. Everyone will see us. Your mother will be scared, and Merry will have to do a spell to get us down. Then she’ll do a forgettery-spell on everyone who saw us.’*

  The kit-fae was delighted. ‘Now you’re talking, witchling!’ it yowled. ‘That’s big. That’s bad. The hags love a grand performance.’

  Weava took her broom in one hand. ‘You come, too,’ she said to the kit-fae. It sprang up and crawled under her cloak. ‘Come on,’ she said to Jemima.

  They walked into the lounge room.

  Merry was labelling bottles. ‘Are you going to be good now?’ she asked, without looking up.

  ‘Of course not,’ said Weava. ‘Jemima and I are going for a broomstick ride.’

  Merry jumped up, goggling at Jemima. ‘Where did you come from?’

  ‘Through the window,’ said Weava.

  ‘Through the…’ Merry’s gaze shifted to the broom in Weava’s hand. ‘No!’ she said. ‘Weava, you can’t take that broom outside. And take your costume off!’

  ‘Give it up, Merry,’ said Weava. ‘Jemima knows you’re a witch, and she thinks it’s wandiful, don’t you, Jemima?’

  Jemima nodded.

  Merry took Jemima’s hand and drew her aside. ‘Weava sometimes tells fibs. Don’t encourage her.’

  ‘I heard that!’ said Weava. ‘Come on, Jemima.’ She tugged Jemima’s other hand.

  ‘No!’ said Merry. She let go of Jemima and grabbed Weava’s broom. She pulled hard. Weava pulled back.

  Jemima backed away. She was wondering if she should go home when someone banged on the front door.

  Merry grabbed Weava’s hand and pried the broom out of her fingers.

  ‘Yoo-hoo!’ Mrs James opened the door and put her head in. ‘Mary, have you seen…? Oh, there you are, Jemima!’ she said. She came right into the flat, smiling. ‘You must be Wendy,’ she said to Weava. ‘Love the costume, sweetie.’

  Merry began to sweep the floor with the broom. Her cheeks were bright pink.

  ‘Hello, Mrs James,’ she said. ‘I expect you want your daughter.’ She turned to Jemima and said, ‘Off you go, dear.’

  ‘Oh no,’ said Mrs James. ‘I only wondered where she was.’ She strode across the flat and smiled at Weava. ‘Maybe the girls would like to play witches in the park? It’s a lovely day.’

  ‘No way!’ said Merry.

  ‘Please don’t shout,’ said Mrs James.

  ‘Sorry, but we’re busy,’ said Merry. ‘My sister’s about to tidy her room while I sweep the floors.’ She pushed Weava into her room and shut the door.

  Then she bustled her bewildered neighbours towards the front door. ‘Goodbye,’ she said.

  ‘Just a minute!’ Mrs James paused. ‘I have an invitation for you.’

  ‘An invitation?’ Merry glanced at Weava’s closed bedroom door. ‘What for?’ she whispered.

  ‘I’m throwing my first fancy-dress party this Friday. I’m inviting all the local children,’ Mrs James said. She held out an envelope. ‘Do bring Wendy.’

  Merry took the invitation. Then she opened the front door.

  Mrs James and Jemima went out.

  Merry ripped the invitation into pieces and dropped it down the waste disposal.

  *

  In the spare bedroom, Weava sighed. ‘Kit-fae, what can I do? Merry is so stubborn, and now she’s got my broom.’

  ‘Choose a new deed that doesn’t involve your sister,’ said the kit-fae.

  Weava shook her head. ‘No,’ she said. ‘Merry’s a witch. I’ll make her behave like one if it’s the last thing I do.’

  * * *

  *The fairy-breed sometimes do forgettery-spells on humans when the humans have seen something they shouldn’t.

  7. A New Idea

  The next day, Merry made Weava come to work with her. ‘Leave your wand behind,’ she said.

  Crossly, Weava put her wand on the mantelpiece. She was about to fetch the kit-fae from her room when Merry g
rabbed her shoulder and marched her out of the flat.

  For hours, Merry drove a van from house to house, delivering Candywaft perfume. Weava hated every minute of it. Her nose itched, and she didn’t even have the kit-fae for company.

  When they finally got home, Merry used Weava’s broom to sweep the floor again. She wouldn’t let Weava touch it.

  ‘Why are you being so horrible?’ asked Weava, taking her wand from the mantelpiece and sneaking it back into her stocking. ‘I want you to be your real self again.’

  ‘This is my real self,’ said Merry.

  She was still cleaning when Mrs James and Jemima came to the flat.

  ‘Oh, hello, Wendy,’ said Mrs James. ‘Are you excited about the party?’

  ‘What party?’ said Weava.

  ‘The big Halloween party on Friday! It’s happening in the loft of this building. All the neighbourhood boys and girls are coming. I gave Mary your invitation yesterday.’

  Merry looked flustered. ‘Oh… um…I must have mislaid it.’

  ‘Never mind. I have a spare one,’ Mrs James said. She took a card from her bag and handed it to Weava.

  Weava looked at the words on the card.

  ‘Halloween party this Friday afternoon!’ she read. ‘Come to the loft in Brimstone Buildings at 5 o’clock. Invite everyone!’

  ‘You must come, dear,’ Mrs James said. ‘You already have the perfect costume. Where did you get it?’

  ‘My dad made it,’ said Weava.

  ‘Well, you’ll fit right in at my party,’ said Mrs James. ‘It will be such fun. You’ll never see a party so full of ghosts and bats and black cats…all the magic of childhood.’

  Jemima moaned. She hated it when her mother talked like that.

  Mrs James bent and pulled the wand from Weava’s stocking. ‘Oh, and what’s this?’ she asked.

  ‘That’s my wand,’ said Weava.

  ‘It’s lovely,’ said Mrs James, waggling the wand. ‘Allakazam!’ she bellowed.