Caution: Witch In Progress (14 page)

The
party wasn’t quite ready yet. Ma said they were waiting for Grothilde to
arrive.

    Seeing Bertha’s disappointed face, Gertie said ‘I’m sure she
won’t be long.’

    Gertie had so much to tell Ma and Gran now she was actually good
at some things she was learning at the Academy. She talked so much, she soon
made up for the time she had spent away from home. Owl came flying back in
every so often, obviously checking on his new power to zoom in. He seemed able
to do it now wherever Gertie was.

    Ma looked over at Bertha who was sat quietly in the corner. ‘What
are you good at, Bertha?’ she asked.

     Gertie was pleased Ma was trying to bring her friend into the
conversation.

    ‘Well, I guess I’m quite good at levitation,’ Bertha replied,
looking around the room for something to demonstrate with.

    ‘Not my crystal ball!’ called Gran. ‘I haven’t had it for very
long,’ she added more quietly when Bertha nearly jumped out of her ample skin.

    Conversation fell again, and the Grimthorpe’s sat waiting for
Grothilde to arrive. Gertie had heard Gran say earlier in the scullery ‘We must
wait for Grothilde before we release the food to Bertha, or there certainly
won’t be anything left when she arrives.’ She hoped Bertha hadn’t heard too,
but she didn’t seem to have.

    ‘So, is your house like this, Bertha?’ Gran asked, breaking the
awkward silence. Bertha had been looking around at everything with interest.

    ‘Uhm. Not really,’ replied Bertha, a bit evasively, Gertie
thought.

    ‘Why, where do you live?’ Gran asked.

    ‘Uhm, Baddington,’ replied Bertha almost too quietly for Gertie
to catch the name.

    ‘Baddington?’ asked Gran, her mind clearly working overtime.

    ‘Yes’ replied Bertha, beginning to blush.

    ‘So,’ Gran began in disbelief, ‘You’re never a Bobbit of
Baddington, are you?’

    ‘Er, yes,’ replied poor Bertha, now bright red.

    ‘Mother! Whatever is wrong with you?’ asked Ma. ‘Can’t you see
that you’re making Bertha feel uncomfortable?’

    ‘Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of the Bobbits of Baddington?’
spluttered Gran in disbelief. ‘Have you never read “Which Witch”? They’re
loaded. Their fortune goes back for generations. Isn’t that right, Bertha?’ she
asked with a conspiratorial wink.

    ‘Well, I guess so,’ agreed the big girl.

    ‘It’s no wonder you’re so fa…such a well built girl,’ Gran
corrected herself just in time.

    ‘So, you’re rich?’ asked Gertie, noticing that Gran had decided
to be nice to Bertha now for some reason.

    ‘Well, not me, but I sort of guess so,’ replied Bertha. ‘Does it
matter?’

    ‘No, of course not,’ Gertie answered quickly. ‘You’re still my
best friend whether you’re rich or poor.’

    Bertha beamed.

    ‘Good answer, Gertie lass,’ said Gran. ‘Keep well in with your
good friend.’

    The embarrassing silence of everyone trying to get used to the knowledge
about Bertha was broken by a knock on the door. Grothilde had arrived.

    Gran went to the door and in came Grothilde, followed by a
chair. Smaller than Grothilde’s animated chair, it was upholstered in midnight
blue material patterned by silver half moons.

    ‘Here’s your present, luv,’ announced Grothilde, gesturing to
the chair. ‘Happy Birthday, Gertie!’

    ‘For me!’ exclaimed Gertie, rather overwhelmed. ‘An animated
chair for me!’

    Go on then, try it. Get it used to your voice,’ said Grothilde
with a crooked smile, one eye on Gertie and the other checking out Bertha.

    ‘Who, me?’ asked Bertha.

    ‘Oh, hello, you must be Bertha,’ said the cross-eyed witch
turning fully towards her. ‘No silly. Gertie. It’s her birthday.’

    ‘ I know that, I just thought you were looking at me,’ said
Bertha looking embarrassed all over again.

    ‘You’ll soon get used to Grothilde,’ said Gran to Bertha. ‘Come
on, our Gertie!’ she added.

    Gertie smiled excitedly, and then said ‘Chair.’

    The new chair ran up behind Gertie so fast, it almost knocked
her legs from under her. She ended up sat in the middle of the room on it,
laughing with glee.

    ‘You’ll need to get used to each other,’ announced Grothilde,
looking at Gertie and out of the window at the same time. ‘I think I’ve still
got the bruises from first practising with mine.’

    Now Grothilde was here, the party could begin. Ma and Gran had
gone to such a lot of trouble over the food so Gertie could have what Gran
called ‘a good do.’ There were sandwiches of so many different types, even
Bertha said she didn’t know where to begin. She didn’t let her confusion last
for long however. She decided to try everything. There was devilled chicken,
and round baked potatoes cut in half like small cauldrons filled with cheese
and onion. Miniature cauldrons of various spicy dips were surrounded by
breadsticks that looked like magic wands, and there were devilled eggs, and
Gran’s favourite devil cakes. Plates of biscuits in the shape of broomsticks,
and bat shaped ones with currants or chocolate chips for eyes surrounded the
centre piece of the table. This was a huge Black Forest Gateau, Gertie’s
favourite. It was lit by ten black candles, and looked lovely. With dandelion and
burdock, or root cordial, to wash it all down, Gertie thought she had never
seen such wonderful party food!

    There was even plenty for Bertha to eat, and that is really
saying something. Bertha kept making the excuse of showing everyone her
levitation skills by having something rise up off the table and head for her
mouth. They were all quite impressed at first, but after a dozen or so
demonstrations the novelty began to wear off a bit. Bertha kept doing it
anyway. She was enjoying herself too much to stop.

    ‘Don’t suppose you’ve got any witch’s brew for us grown-ups?’
asked Grothilde hopefully, after a while.

    ‘Course we have, you old hag,’ chuckled Gran. Off she went to
return with a frothing jug and two empty glasses. ‘Sure you don’t want any?’
she asked Ma. Ma didn’t usually drink brew.

    ‘No thanks,’ replied Ma. ‘I’ll drink root cordial with the
girls. Mind you don’t have too much either.’

    Gertie smiled. She knew what Gran was like when she got together
with Grothilde.

    ‘As if,’ replied Gran, sounding quite indignant.

    Nevertheless, it wasn’t long before Gran and Grothilde were
slurring their words, and laughing at nothing in particular.

    ‘Go on, Batty,’ encouraged Grothilde. ‘Show us your trick again,
lass.’

    Gran choked on a devil cake, and almost fell off her chair
wailing ‘Batty!!! Haaahaaaaa!’

    Bertha didn’t mind. She giggled too at the two old witches’
infectious laughter.

    Ma and Gertie found themselves laughing along as well. They were
not laughing about the silly things that were amusing the tipsy pair, but more
at Gran and Grothilde themselves.

    Bertha obliged by showing them her levitation skills again.

    Gertie had noticed her friend eyeing the choc chip bat biscuits,
and now the perfect opportunity was offered to her. She was impressed how good Bertha
was at her new found skill. The big girl could even get a biscuit to hover
while she took repeated bites out of it without having to hold it in her hand.
Gertie was most impressed because try as she might, she hadn’t achieved much
more than a temporary hover when she tried to levitate anything. She guessed
Bertha’s success was based on her obsession with eating. Her friend didn’t have
half as much control when trying to levitate objects that were not edible.
Gertie wondered if Bertha would have to get a chocolate broomstick in order to
learn to levitate it properly.

    The young witch suddenly remembered she was supposed to be
telling Grothilde about borage being a good hangover cure. Now was probably a
very good time to do so, since Grothilde seemed to be well on her way to
causing another.

    ‘I’ve learned something at the Academy I especially want to tell
you about, Grothilde,’ said Gertie in all innocence. It never crossed her mind
that the old witch might take offence at talk of her many hangovers.

    ‘An’ what’s that then, Gertie luv?’ asked the cross-eyed witch,
trying not to giggle uncontrollably again.

    ‘Well, in the protective herbs and spells class, we learned that
borage is good to use for hangovers,’ Gertie explained.

    Grothilde stared at Gertie (and at a cobweb in the top corner of
the room) for a moment. She then said, ‘Eee, Lass, I manage to get them fine
without any help. It usually only takes a few witch’s brews for me.’

    ‘No, what I mean is…’ began Gertie, but was drowned out by Gran’s
guffaw. Gran rolled about, wiping her eyes as she wailed.

    ‘What? WHAT?’ asked Grothilde, missing the joke entirely.

    ‘Never mind, Gertie,’ Ma whispered, ‘I’m sure Grothilde will
appreciate your advice when she’s in a better frame of mind to listen.’

    Gertie smiled. Grothilde was now laughing as much as Gran again,
even though she had no idea why.

    Grothilde must have finally remembered that Gertie had been
trying to tell her something about the Academy, because she said, ‘I’ll tell
you one thing they’ll probably teach you there, Gertie luv, when you have your
broomstick class. They’ll tell you that a good broomstick should be able to
stand up on its own. Well, that’s as may be. What I say is that a bloomin’ good
broomstick is one that helps you to stand up. Haaaaaaaaaaa!’

    Grothilde nearly fell off her chair laughing at her own wit.

    Gran had tears rolling down her face by now.

    Gertie was so happy. Everything was going right. She was finding
classes she enjoyed at the Academy, she was home, and it was her birthday!
Gertie decided she liked being ten years old.

    It was late when the party ended and Grothilde finally decided
she should be heading home. The fact that the Grimthorpe’s had run out of
witch’s brew seemed to add to her decision. Gran went to walk Grothilde home,
as no one believed she would find her way there otherwise. It wasn’t far, and
she was in no state to ride a broom. Ma said she hoped Gran would find her way
back.

    Ma talked with the girls about the Academy and what had been
happening in Vile Vale, while they were waiting for Gran’s return. When Gran
arrived back, the fresh air seemed to have calmed her down a bit. Bertha was
yawning widely as Gran came back in.

    ‘You two girls must be tired,’ said Gran with only a slight slur
in her voice. ‘It’s been a busy day for you. Maybe it’s time for your beds. I
know I’m ready for mine.’

    ‘Yes, I am tired,’ agreed Gertie. ‘It’s been such a wonderful
day though I don’t want it all to end, ever!’

    Ma and Gran smiled. Gertie knew it was so important to them both
that she had a good birthday.

    ‘Have you enjoyed yourself too, Bertha?’ Gran asked.

    ‘Oh yes,’ replied Bertha. ‘It’s the best party I’ve ever been
to!’

    It’s maybe the only one she’s ever been invited to, thought
Gertie. It’s a shame really, but at least Gran is getting on better with her
now. It’s funny how being rich can change people’s opinions about you. Gran
seemed to find a wealthy Bertha much easier to tolerate than a poor one.

    Gertie kissed Ma and Gran goodnight, then she and Bertha went
off to her room. Bertha’s bed creaked and groaned in a complaining sort of way
as Bertha clambered into it, but at least it didn’t set off running anywhere.
Actually, there probably wasn’t much danger of that, all things being
considered. The poor bed seemed to be struggling to stay upright on its legs
with Bertha’s weight in it, never mind being able to set off at a gallop. It
seemed pretty unlikely to move at all.

    Gertie and Bertha chatted and giggled between themselves about
the day and the party. Especially about Gran and Grothilde getting so silly
after drinking the witch’s brew. Both girls were tired, but it had all been too
exciting for them to go to sleep yet. Before long, they grew more tired, and
the talk dwindled. It was then that Gertie began to hear a small voice from the
wardrobe.

    ‘I can hear you there. Can I come out?’ It was Bat.

    Gertie didn’t reply.

    ‘I’ll be good.’

    ‘Hush now, Bat, it’s bedtime’ Gertie whispered. Bertha was
almost asleep.

    ‘Well, can I come out with you tomorrow?’ Bat persisted.

    Gertie tried ignoring him. He didn’t go away.

    ‘Please?’

    ‘We’ll see, Bat,’ Gertie relented, feeling a bit sorry for the
lonely umbrella.

    ‘Really! Honest?’ Bat asked excitedly.

    ‘Only if you learn to behave,’ Gertie said quietly, but in as
stern a voice as she could manage.