Witch's Business (18 page)

“Pancakes,” said Jenny, “and I like mine with syrup, but Frankie likes—”

“Oh, don't!” said Frankie. “Jess, can't you and Frank think of something? This is awful!”

Jess made a face. It was a hard thing when everyone was relying on them to have good ideas. She was too hungry to think. Yet then, she thought, the sight of the cat sitting crossly under the table had given her some sort of idea, if only she could think what it was—if only the rest of them would stop talking about food!

“Strawberries and cream,” said Martin.

“No, tinned zombie-bits peaches.”

“Anything!
” said Jess. The idea had gone.

Biddy chuckled, very cheerfully. They all hated her. “Well,” she said. “Now perhaps the person who has the tooth will own up.”

“Can we,” asked Buster longingly, “can we all go as soon as they done it?”

“Good gracious, no!” said Biddy. “What gave you that idea? You nine are my servants and I happen to need you urgently.”

“We're not your degutted servants,” said Buster.

“Whose are you, then?” laughed Biddy.

“The one that has the tooth's, of course,” Buster said.

“Then,” said Biddy, “the one that has the tooth had better say so. They can have the pleasure of giving you my orders.”

No one answered, until Jess said, “The one that has the tooth—can
they
go home when they've given the orders?”

“What do you think I am?” said Biddy. “Naturally not. I need the tooth. I need my servants, and I need to make sure you don't tell naughty tales. None of you is going home.”

There was a very miserable silence. Then Martin said, “But you
can't
. Our parents will come looking for us. They're bound to find us in the end.”

“Why should they find you?” Biddy asked. “You're in my private house here. No one can find that except me. They may search the hut as they please—they won't find so much as a whisker of you.”

Whisker!
Jess thought. Why is whisker important? Why is the cat important?

“So,” said Biddy, “you might as well give me the tooth. I'll get it in the end, anyway.”

Nobody answered. Biddy waited for a while. Then she seemed to give the tooth up for the present.

“We'll come to the really urgent matter,” she said. “Frances Adams, you may as well own up. Why has your father gone to your old house—Martin Taylor's house?”

“I don't know,” said Frankie. “Because you told him to, I suppose.”

“I did not,” said Biddy. “I forbade him to go. I ordered him off, and he disobeyed me. I want you to tell me why.”

“I don't know why,” said Frankie. “And even if I did, I wouldn't tell, because you made Jenny's foot bad.”

“She never did!” said Stafford, sounding really shocked.

“She did,” said Jenny.

“Anyway,” said Buster to Biddy, “why shouldn't her father go up there? You don't gizzard well own him.”

“Yes, I do,” said Biddy. “
And
her aunt. I own the whole family now, don't I, Frances?”

“No,” said Frankie.

“I do now,” said Biddy. “Or I will soon, my dear. I have your heirlooms and your jewelry, and half your money, too. I've turned you out of your house, and I won't stop until the lot of you are squashed beneath my feet like wood lice. There you have it.”

“Why?” said at least six people. “That's sliming horrible. Why?”

“Ah,” said Biddy, “to teach him a lesson—my dear Mr. Adams. He could have married me, and he married a fluffy girl instead. I sent her away. I'll show him what he's missed.”

Everyone was by now so cross and so uncomfortable and so sick of Biddy that they answered her with roars of laughter.

“Cor!” said Buster. “Marry
you
! Who d' you think you are? Lady Godiva?”

“You're wicked,” said Jess and Jenny.

“She's mad,” said Frank and Frankie.

“Biddy the Bride! Twice round the gut-slimed gasworks!” yelled the gang.

“I bet he never even looked at her,” said Martin to Vernon, and Vernon agreed.

Biddy was very annoyed. “I've had enough of this,” she said, whipping off her glasses again. “Be quiet. Be quiet, all of you.”

Everyone was quiet. Not one of them could speak.

“So there!” said Biddy. “Now I'll have to go and see if the wretched man is home yet.” She stood up and began shuffling away again. The cat crawled out from under the table and tried to make friends by rubbing round her mauve legs. Biddy kicked it away and shuffled off.

She left the fifteen children all rolling their eyes at one another helplessly. There was a long, long silence. Then Frank said, “Can't anybody really talk?”

“Yes,” said Jess. “But I can't move.”

She could see from the rolling eyes of the others that they could not talk and were amazed that she and Frank still could.

“Why can we talk?” said Frank.

“The Eyes,” said Jess. “They must still be working a bit.”

“That's a relief,” said Frank. “Do you think that's why she couldn't find which one had the tooth?”

“I hope so,” said Jess. “Have you got it? I haven't.”

“No,” said Frank. “And it's lucky the one who has can't talk. Don't ask. She mustn't get it. If we know, we might give it away. What can we do, Jess?”

“Think of an idea,” said Jess. “Some way to get round her.”

“I can't,” said Frank. “Not when she's chuckling and saying what she's done to the Adams family. She just makes me sick—even though I'm so hungry I could eat my fingers if I could move them.”

“So is the cat hungry,” said Jess. “Does that help?”

“I could eat
it
,” said Frank. “It had better not come too near me.”

Jess rolled her eyes round and saw the cat on the table, despairingly licking the empty plates. “Lucky thing!” she said. “Gravy, at least.”

After that, they sat in hopeless silence for a long, long time. Frank thought that, uncomfortable though they were, they dropped off to sleep for a while. He remembered seeing Buster's eyes closed, and Jenny's. He started noticing things again when somebody began snoring.

Whoever it was snored great rattling snores that went through Frank's head like someone drilling a tooth. He looked, and saw that Biddy was back again. She had tipped her chair back and turned it into a sort of bed. Her mouth was open, her glasses were off, and she looked dreadful. The cat was sitting on the table staring at her spitefully. It looked as if it hated Biddy quite as much as Frank did.

“I agree with you,” Frank said, and the cat flipped the end of its tail at him. “I agree with you so much,” said Frank, “that I'm sorry I threw those spoons at you.” The cat flipped its tail again but took no other notice.

“Frank,” said Jess.

“What?” said Frank. The snoring and the talking had roused the others. Their eyes were open all round the circle, and he thought how miserable they all looked. “Get an idea,” he said to Jess. “For goodness' sake.”

“I have,” said Jess. “At last. ‘Puss in Boots.' ”

“It isn't,” said Frank. “It hasn't even got shoes on.”

“Don't be a stupid idiot,” said Jess. “And I can't say too much. Just remember the end of the story.”

Frank thought. He remembered, and he saw the idea. He saw, from the way Vernon's eyes rolled and Frankie's, that they had seen the idea, too. They all looked at the snoring Biddy and were afraid in case she had heard Jess in her sleep. But Biddy snored on.

“Will it work?” said Frank.

“We can try,” said Jess. “Maybe the Eyes will help. Let's ask the cat.”

“Does it understand?”

“It
must
do, the way she talked to it. Let's try, anyway.”

“Okay,” said Frank. “I say. Cat.” Biddy gave a rattling snore and stirred a little.

“Not so loud!” said Jess.

Frank tried again, in a loud whisper. “Cat. I say.” The cat looked round at him. As soon as it was looking at him, Frank felt very foolish indeed. It was only an animal. It could not possibly understand. “Do you know the end of ‘Puss in Boots'?” he said to it hopelessly. The cat blinked. It did not look in the least as if it understood. “Bother you, then,” said Frank.

“It doesn't matter,” Jess said quickly. “Listen, cat, you're cross with Biddy, aren't you, for not giving you any supper?” The cat did not move, except for the end of its tail, which swished quickly backward and forward. “We'll give you supper,” said Jess, “if you do what we tell you. Will you?” The cat just went on swishing its tail and staring at her. “You try, Frank,” said Jess.

“Cat,” said Frank. “Go and wake Biddy up. Then we'll show you.”

The cat shut its eyes. It seemed that there had been no point in talking to it after all. Then it opened its eyes, got onto its four feet, and stretched. If it was going to help them, it was plainly going to do it as if it was its own idea, not theirs. Slowly, yawning, it walked among the plates on the table. Then it sat down again. Frank and Jess gave it up. Then, when they were quite hopeless, it suddenly jumped on Biddy, right in the middle of her chest. Then it jumped off again, fast. Biddy woke up and hit out at it, but it was under the table by then, growling.

“Dratted animal!” said Biddy. She stretched, and they saw her look round to see if the children were awake. “Little dears,” she said. “What a lovely night you must have had! I hope you ache all over. Now—” Biddy stretched again and seemed to be thinking. “The question is what to do with you,” she said. “I can't have you sitting about forever. It's a nuisance. Why is it so difficult to turn live things into things which aren't alive? I wish I could turn you all into a ring of tin cans. But it would take too long, and I want you safely out of the way before the police start asking awkward questions. It'll have to be toads, I suppose. No. Because then you'll all go hopping off, and I want you where I can make you miserable. I know! Grass! I'll turn you into fifteen grass roots and plant you where you'll get walked on. That's it!”

Biddy got up quickly, as if she was pleased with this idea. Jess swallowed and said, “Miss Iremonger.”

Biddy shot a beady look at her. “What are you doing, wagging your tongue?” she said. “You're not supposed to.”

“I know,” said Jess. “But I want to know if you can do real magic.”

“Real magic!” said Biddy. “What do you think I've been doing all this time, if it's not real magic?”

“No,” said Jess. “It isn't.”

“She means, can you turn things into other things,” said Frank.

“That's
real
magic,” said Jess.

“Is it?” said Biddy. “Strange ideas you do have. Didn't you hear me just now, Jessica Pirie? What do you think I was talking about? The man in the moon?”

“Yes, I heard you,” said Jess. “But I wanted to see you
do
it. I don't believe you really can.”

Biddy rubbed her chin and shuffled a few steps toward Jess. “Don't you, my dear?” she said. “Well, it's quite simple. I'll turn you into a toad now, if you like—unless you'd rather be a dandelion.”

Jess could think of nothing to say, because her idea seemed to have gone wrong. She wondered if the cat ate toads. “Dandelion, please,” she said, just to be on the safe side.

“No,” said Frank. “Don't do it to her. Do it to yourself, Miss Iremonger. Turn
yourself
into something.”

Biddy shuffled at him. “And why should I do that, Master Pirie? I'm not a television show, you know. Why should I go to the trouble for you?”

Frank could not think of a reason, except the right one.

But he could not have Jess turned into a dandelion, so he began to talk hard, hoping a reason would come to him.

“Well,” he said, “if you do it to her,
I
can see her, but she can't, can she? If you turn her into a dandelion, she might not know she was one, even if we told her. She wouldn't have ears and eyes and things. It would be the same for all of us. So when you turn us into grass and plant us, we might not know we really
were
grass, and we wouldn't believe it when people walked on us. And,” said Frank desperately, “that wouldn't be nearly such fun for you, would it?”

Biddy rubbed her chin. “You've a good head, Master Pirie. You have a point there. I never thought of that.”

“But,” said Frank cunningly, “if you were to turn
yourself
into something, Miss Iremonger, we could all see it and believe it.”

Perhaps he had been too cunning. Biddy said, “And where do you think that would get you? Are you playing some game, Master Pirie?”