A Bad Spell for the Worst Witch

PUFFIN BOOKS

A Bad Spell for the Worst Witch

Jill Murphy started putting books together (literally with a stapler), when she was six. Her
Worst Witch
series, the first of which was published in 1974, is hugely successful. She has also written and illustrated several award-winning picture books for younger children.

PUFFIN BOOKS

Published by the Penguin Group

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First published by Kestrel Books 1982

Published in Puffin Books 1988

51

Copyright © Jill Murphy, 1982

All rights reserved

Except in the United States of America, this book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

ISBN: 978-0-14-194146-2

t was the very first day of Mildred Hubble’s second year at Miss Cackle’s Academy for Witches.

The school year at the academy was divided into two long terms, the first of these commencing in September and stretching right to the end of January. This was known as the Winter Term and was followed by a month of welcome holiday. The second session began in March and finished at the end of July, and this was called the Summer Term, though in fact it was still extremely cold and wintry when term began. Then there was another glorious month of holiday until the beginning of September, and the start of another year.

After her disastrous first year at the academy, it was something of a miracle that Mildred was returning there at all. She was one of those unfortunate people who seem to invite disaster wherever they go. Despite her efforts to be helpful and well-behaved, Mildred had an uncanny knack of appearing to be the cause of any trouble which was occurring, and it must be admitted that there
were
occasions (particularly when her rather wild imagination ran away with her) when she managed to turn some peaceful event into a scene of total chaos.

However,
this
year Mildred was older and hopefully wiser (at any rate she was more full of good intentions than ever) and she was quite determined to lose her reputation as the worst witch in the school.

Arriving on her broomstick at the prison-like school gates, Mildred peered through the railings into the misty playground. For once she was early and there were only a handful of girls in the yard, all stamping their feet and huddling in their cloaks to keep out the bitter cold. It was always chilly at the school because the building was made of stone, rather like a castle, and was perched on the topmost peak of a mountain, surrounded by pine trees which grew so close together that it was very damp and gloomy. In fact, the girls suffered permanently from colds and flu from all the time they were forced to spend in the freezing playground.

‘Healthy fresh air!’ Miss Drill, the gym mistress, would bark, herding the sneezing, coughing pupils outside. ‘It’ll do you all a power of good. Five hundred lines to anyone caught sneaking in before the bell!’

Mildred flew over the gates and landed expertly on the other side.

‘Well,
that’s
a good start!’ she thought, looking around in the hope that someone had witnessed so successful a landing, but of course they hadn’t. People were only ever watching when she did something dreadful, never at a moment of triumph.

Mildred took her suitcase from the back of the broomstick which was hovering politely, waiting for the next command. Then she turned her attention to the tabby cat still spreadeagled on the back of the broom with its eyes screwed tightly shut and its claws gripping on for dear life. The poor little cat had never got over its terror of flying, and Mildred always had to prise it from the broomstick whenever she arrived anywhere.

‘Trust
me
to get a cat like you,’ said Mildred fondly, stroking it with one hand and unclasping its claws with the other. ‘Come on, silly, we’re here. Look! It’s all over, you can jump off now.’

The cat opened one eye cautiously, saw that it was true and sprang onto Mildred’s shoulder where it rubbed its head gratefully against her hair. Mildred felt a wave of tenderness towards the scrawny creature.

‘Mildred! Millie! It’s
me
!’ shrieked a familiar voice from above. Mildred looked up and saw Maud swooping over the gates, waving her hat in the air. This last action nearly caused her to fall off and she lurched to a rather drunken halt at Mildred’s feet.

‘Oh, Maud!’ laughed Mildred, full of joy at the sight of her best friend after the long summer holiday. ‘Gosh, you look a lot thinner, and your hair’s got longer.’

‘I know,’ said Maud, stroking her hair which was in two stubby plaits instead of her usual bunches. ‘Mother put me on this
awful
diet. I wasn’t allowed to eat
anything
except lettuce and celery and dreadful stuff like that. Still, I’m out of her clutches now, so it’s back to good old school dinners. Three cheers for date-pudding and custard I say!’ They both laughed.