The Broken Spell (5 page)

‘Spawning?’ the woman growled.

‘Of course.’

‘And another,’ said Vera, banging a second jar on the table, ‘’cos we’re
so
generous.’

The woman’s half-closed eyes watched Vera without expression. Then suddenly she shrieked,

‘Tea!’

She lifted her heavy foot and stamped twice on the floor.

‘Tea!’ she yelled again.

There was the sound of clattering dishes from the room below and, within minutes, a gaunt woman, with a tight bun of grey hair, flitted into the room and deposited a tray on the little table. Beth shot her a quick smile, but the woman scurried out of the room, head bowed, without responding.

‘Tea,’ Mrs Allan said, quietly this time, and Meredith poured out four cups. This was a familiar ritual. They were never offered milk or sugar, and Beth found it hard to stomach the bitter, black liquid. But the old woman’s temper flared up if any of them refused to finish an entire cup. When all were empty, she would pick up each in turn, and stare into the
swollen, soaked leaves in the bottom of the cup. She could do this for ages – sometimes as long as an hour – and the three girls would have to sit silently the whole time.

It gave Beth the willies to watch the old woman twist a delicate teacup in her hand, staring intently into the bottom, a smile occasionally playing on her lips. And she suspected their visits to Mrs Allan were more about those tea leaves, than the trade of flora and fauna for items the girls couldn’t get on their own.

‘We want a scrying bowl,’ Vera said, before Mrs Allan had placed the final cup back on the table. ‘In good condition, no rubbish.’

The old woman tapped one long, pointed fingernail on the edge of the teacup. There was a faint ringing, scraping sound, as the fingernail was dragged up and down the
delicate
porcelain.

‘If you had one to spare,’ Meredith said, as if Vera had never spoken, ‘we would very much appreciate a scrying bowl, Mrs Allan. Our skills are progressing. We could never hope to master the reading of leaves, but the simpler task of scrying might well be in our reach.’

The woman tilted her head to look up at Meredith with sleepy, malicious eyes.

‘The cabinet on the right,’ she said. ‘The olive green one. Don’t touch the red.’

‘You’re very kind.’

‘It’s a trinket,’ the woman replied, regarding Meredith steadily. ‘Nothing in cost to, say, a crystal ball.’

Beth glanced at Meredith as if to say,
what did she mean by that?
But Meredith was hurriedly snatching the bowl from the cabinet, and wrapping it in a scarf.

‘We’ll leave you be,’ she said, buckling her schoolbag.

‘Return any time.’ The woman was smirking like Beth had never seen before. ‘There’s always tea.’

‘What was she rambling on about crystal balls for?’ said Vera, as the three girls made their way from North Street towards the school.

‘I think her mind is failing a bit,’ replied Meredith. ‘She’s starting to wander.’

‘Yeah, no kidding. She’s read our leaves a dozen times, and still…
every
bloody time. I’d swear it’s the only time she looks vaguely happy. What’s so bloody entertaining?’

‘I guess there must be something eventful in our future that’s worth the watch,’ said Beth. ‘Maybe we really make it as witches. Maybe she’s watching our success.’

‘Not likely,’ said Vera. ‘There’s something twisted in that old trout. She’d get more joy from watching a train-wreck.’

‘We’re late for the yearbook photos,’ Meredith said quickly. ‘Come on.’

Beth groaned as they picked up the pace.

4

A LITTLE GLAMOUR

Grace tossed the few copybooks that had fallen out of her locker back in, sneaking a glance at the old 1977 yearbook that sat tucked in on one side. She took a quick look over her shoulder, then pulled the book out and flicked through the dog-eared pages to the photo of Vera Quinlan and the others. The seventeen-year-old Vera looked how every cool kid in school looks; bored with the world and everything in it. Beth Lemon looked a little shy, with her head bowed and
glancing
up at the camera with a bashful smile. Meredith Gold, on the other hand, stared right through the lens, her light eyes intense and her expression severe. She didn’t have the same glamorous appearance that she had now, but her fair hair and white skin were unmistakable.

‘Wow, is that from our school?’ a voice said behind her.
‘The uniform looks kind of the same, but sort of old.’

Grace instinctively snapped the book shut and stuck it under her arm. She started to say something evasive, but James O’Connor’s smile made the words stick in her throat. She begged her cheeks not to blush. Too late.

‘Sorry, didn’t mean to be nosy,’ he said.

‘Oh, it’s fine,’ she replied, half pulling the yearbook out to show him. ‘It
is
from our school, from the seventies.’

‘Wow. Where’d you get it? Can I take a look?’

She ignored his first question and let him flick through the pages.

‘It’s like looking through a worm-hole, or something,’ he laughed. ‘It’s so weird. Look, there’s the back of the school, before the P block was built. It’s just a field!’

‘Yeah,’ Grace replied, frantically searching for something else to say. ‘And take a look at the gym clothes back then. They’re so horrible!’

‘Aw, no way! Those shorts! That’s just wrong.’

Grace grinned. Aside from the time she cast a love spell on him (and that didn’t really count) this was the longest
conversation
she’d ever had with James. The realisation made the blush spread to her forehead and neck. She gulped, hoping he didn’t notice that she was lit up like a Christmas tree. She scratched her jaw-line, pulling her hair over her cheek in the hope of covering the worst of the redness.

‘That’s awesome,’ he said, handing the book back. ‘I’d
better go. Mr O’Dwyer goes mad when we’re late for our training.’

‘Okay, ’bye.’

‘See you, Grace.’

He shot her a polite smile as he left and… was that a little colour in his cheeks too? Grace frowned for a second, then shook her head, smiling. She pushed the yearbook into her bag and snapped the locker door shut.

‘They’ve got her again,’ Jenny pointed as she and Grace made their way to class. ‘That little girl. Delilah.’

Trish was going through the girl’s rucksack as Bev looked on, blowing loud-snapping bubbles with her gum. Tracy had Delilah by one shoulder, keeping her in a stooped position, waiting for something interesting to pop out of the stolen bag. Grace followed Jenny’s determined stride closely, but kept a little behind her friend. With only the two of them, and no Una to freak the Beast out, she felt outnumbered.

‘Let go of her!’ Jenny didn’t waste any time. ‘And give her back her bag.’

Tracy snickered.

‘Hey, where’s the Freak, friend of the Freak?’

‘Yeah, friend of the Freak,’ said Bev through her gum.

‘She’ll be here any minute,’ Grace replied.

‘It doesn’t matter where Una is,’ Jenny said very loudly.
‘Because
I’m
telling you to let her go.’

Tracy flicked back her dark red ponytail and raised one hand mockingly to her ear.

‘What did you say? Pull her hair out? Okay.’

She grabbed a handful of Delilah’s black hair and gave it a violent tug. The girl yelped in pain.

‘Stop it!’ shouted Jenny.

‘Give her a kick? Alright.’

A vicious swift kick to the shins, and Delilah fell to the ground crying.

‘Leave her alone!’

‘Make her kiss the ground I walk on? If you say so.’

Still holding the girl by the scruff of one shoulder, the Beast dunked her head until her forehead hit the ground. Delilah’s muffled cries could just be heard over the
sniggering
of the two henchmen.

‘
Stop it
!’ Jenny’s voice was shrill as she swung her
rucksack
off her shoulder in a wide arc over her head, firing it at Tracy’s face. The Beast ducked just in time, letting the bag fly past her, smash through one of the glass panes lining the corridor and land on the grass outside. There was a stunned silence.

‘What’s going on down there?’ a voice thundered from the Main Hall.

Tracy let go of Delilah’s jumper and made her escape with her two friends in tow, knocking over Grace as she went.
Jenny struggled to get Grace and Delilah to their feet at the same time, just as Ms Gold arrived.

‘I heard a crash. What happened?’ She glanced at the broken window. ‘Oh. Does that bag belong to one of you?’

‘It wasn’t Jenny’s fault, Miss,’ Grace explained. ‘Tracy Murphy was beating up this girl and Jenny was just trying to stop her. It was an accident.’

‘And that’s your bag, Jenny?’

Jenny nodded solemnly putting one arm around a still tearful Delilah.

‘She’s just a first year,’ Grace went on, ‘and she’s only just moved here, Miss. Tracy’s been picking on her.’

Ms Gold looked for a long moment at the small girl, but Delilah avoided her gaze.

‘What was that?’ They heard Mr Collins’s voice coming towards them. ‘I heard something smash.’

Grace felt sick to her stomach as she heard the Vice
Principal
approaching. There was no way they weren’t going to get in trouble for this.

‘Did somebody break something? Is anyone hurt?’ He was rounding the corner; he’d be upon them any second.

Grace heard a gentle tinkle of glass and, just as he arrived, she turned to see the window fully restored, gleaming and unbroken, with Jenny’s bag still lying on the grass outside. Her mouth dropped open.

‘Nothing broken, Mr Collins, luckily,’ said Ms Gold. ‘These
girls were in too much of a hurry and one of them banged into the window, but no injuries and no harm done.’

‘Oh,’ said Mr Collins, inspecting the glass, ‘I could have sworn I heard something break.’

‘Cup of tea in the staffroom?’ smiled Ms Gold.

The Vice Principal’s face lit up immediately.

‘You know, I was just thinking I’d love a cup of tea right now. Wonderful. Oh, and, eh, be careful girls, won’t you?’

‘Lead the way, Mr Collins,’ said Ms Gold, turning to give Grace a wink as she followed the Vice Principal back down the corridor.

‘Did you see that?’ Jenny gasped.

‘That was
amazing
!’ Grace replied.

‘Thank God she was here, or I’d have been suspended for sure.’

Grace turned to Delilah. ‘Are you okay?’

She pulled a clean tissue from her pocket and gave it to Delilah who wiped away the last of her tears.

‘Yes,’ she sniffled. ‘Thank you.’

‘Come on,’ said Jenny, giving her shoulders a squeeze. ‘Come and have lunch with us.’

Adie and Rachel were watching Ms Gold like she was the Second Coming. Holding two large bottles, fused together at the neck with one on top of the other, their teacher was
demonstrating her ‘homemade’ tornado. One bottle was
half-filled
with pale green liquid and, when shaken and upturned, the coloured water slowly emptied into the bottom bottle, forming a perfect twister in the glass neck. Grace gazed into the spinning vortex. She had seen one of these before – they were all over YouTube – and she wondered where the magic was. Unconsciously, she played the witch’s theme from ‘The Wizard of Oz’ in her mind, catching sight of tiny debris in the bottle. She concentrated on the edge of the twister,
suddenly
picking out a teeny, tiny house spinning in the liquid. She looked closer and could make out miniature figures, cars and even farm animals caught in the mini-storm. She glanced up at Ms Gold, who smiled at her knowingly. Her two friends had also spotted the magical extras, and were whispering excitedly to one another. Nobody else in the class seemed to notice.

When the bell rang, the three girls stayed in their seats. They waited until everyone else had left in a bustle of chatter and noisy furniture, then sat in silence.

‘Home time, girls,’ the teacher said.

Grace didn’t answer. She stared at her hands on the table.

‘Girls,’ Ms Gold said again. ‘It’s time to go home.’

‘Do we have to, Miss?’

Ms Gold sighed and sat on the edge of her desk.

‘Are you worried about that window?’ she asked. ‘I promise I won’t tell anyone.’

‘It’s not that, Miss,’ Grace replied, still staring at her
fingernails
. ‘It’s just that… we were wondering if you could…’

‘Couldn’t
you
teach us, Miss?’ Rachel interrupted. ‘Magic, I mean.’

‘Beth and Vera are tutoring you,’ Ms Gold said, ‘and they want to keep it that way. I would love to help, I really would. But they’d never allow it.’

‘We wouldn’t have to tell them, Miss. We could keep it a secret.’

‘I’m not sure that’s a good idea.’

‘Please, Miss,’ Adie said gently.

The woman sighed again and stared into space for a moment. Grace gazed pleadingly at her when she looked at them again.

‘Small things,’ Ms Gold said quickly. ‘Just a few small,
harmless
bits and pieces. The big stuff I’ll leave to them. Agreed?’

‘Yes! Agreed!’

The following evening, the five girls assembled for their first lesson with Ms Gold.

‘Now where shall we start?’ she said, smiling.

All five girls were huddled around one desk, shuffling their feet with excitement.

‘Something lovely,’ said Una. ‘The golden butterflies!’

‘Hmm,’ Ms Gold frowned. ‘That’s a little complicated. You
need a good grip on your surroundings for that one. How about we start a little smaller. With yourselves.’

‘With us?’

‘The easiest thing to keep control over – yourself. Let’s try a little Glamour.’