The Power of Poppy Pendle (15 page)

Charlie suspected that most of Potts Bottom probably knew all about Mr. and Mrs. Pendle already. She had a strong suspicion that Maxine wasn’t the best at keeping secrets.

Even though it was a school day, Charlie knew she couldn’t face lessons this morning. The shock of what she had just seen was starting to sink in, and she wondered what on earth must have happened to make Poppy turn her parents to stone like that. Something really dreadful, Charlie suspected, folding her arms across her stomach and feeling more and more worried as she walked. Charlie had already missed the school bus, and the thought of turning up late was just unbearable. All the girls would laugh at her. She’d never be able to concentrate, and to make matters worse, she’d forgotten her lunch. As Charlie passed the grassy track that led down toward the canal, she didn’t even hesitate before hurrying along it. Nobody went near the canal. She could easily spend the day here without being discovered.

As Charlie walked alongside the water, she remembered the afternoon Poppy had used her magic to make the fish dance. How they had both sat on the little stone wall in front of the tumbledown cottage, and how Poppy had shared her dreams of one day owning a bakery when she grew up. It had been lovely, and Charlie smiled, thinking about the almond crunch bars they had shared. She clambered up onto that same wall now and closed her eyes, swallowing an imaginary taste of crunch bar. A soft sigh escaped through Charlie’s lips, and she hoped that wherever Poppy happened to be at this moment, she was happy.

Somewhere close by a car engine backfired, and Charlie spun around, startled by the sudden noise. She gasped and almost fell off the wall, but not because of the explosion. Scattered across the overgrown lawn behind her were hundreds of stone animals and birds. Just like her goose. There were blackbirds and blue tits, sparrows and robins. One of the robins even had a tiny stone worm in its mouth. Charlie couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing. A stone cat stood ready to pounce in the long grass, and numerous stone squirrels clung to the branches of the surrounding trees. Most shocking of all was a whole flock of stone ducks at the end of the garden, their wings still spread out as if they had only just landed. Too stunned to move, Charlie sat on the wall and stared. She stared and stared, until she realized she was holding her breath. Then, taking in a great lungful of air, she wondered what on earth she should do. Could Poppy be behind this? Perhaps she had used the cottage to hide in. Maybe she was there right now, baking up something delicious to eat.

“Poppy,” Charlie called, breaking the silence. There was no answer, so Charlie lowered herself down onto the other side of the wall. She almost stepped on a stone rabbit and let out a nervous cry of distress. All these stone animals made her think of a graveyard. If it hadn’t been sunny and early in the morning, Charlie would certainly have bolted.

She picked her way over to the cottage, trying to avoid the patches of nettles and broken glass. It wasn’t easy, and Charlie bit back a yelp as she stung herself on a particularly fierce plant. Suddenly the idea of anyone living here seemed ridiculous. There couldn’t be any heat or running water in the cottage, let alone an oven. This place was a dump, but nonetheless Charlie skirted a sprawling holly bush, thinking she’d have a quick peek through one of the windows. And that’s when she stumbled right into the crouched hidden figure of a stone policeman. She covered her mouth in horror, letting out a soft moan. PC Flower, his stone name tag read, and Charlie knew at once that she had found the missing police officer. He had a truncheon clutched in one hand and a look of stunned surprise on his face. For a few moments Charlie stood perfectly still, feeling too horrified to move. PC Flower was staring straight up at the window, and suddenly Charlie didn’t want to know what he had been looking at. But she had to know. She had to find out. Holding her breath in along with her rising panic, Charlie tiptoed past the policeman. Then before she lost her nerve, she grabbed on to the stone window ledge and pulled herself up.

Peering through the open window, Charlie screamed and let go, dropping back down sharply, and grazing her arm on the wall. What she had seen was more disturbing than the garden full of stone animals, even more disturbing than PC Flower. A girl her age sat hunched by the window on a packing crate. One of her hands grasped a magic wand, the other a half-eaten Fudge Monkey. Empty cans and Twirlie bar wrappers littered the floor around her, and there was a nasty smell of stew in the air.

Bravely pulling herself up for another look, Charlie ignored the pain in her arm. There was no sound from inside, and the girl didn’t move. For a moment Charlie wondered if she, too, was made out of stone. Then slowly, very slowly, the girl raised her head. She stared up at Charlie out of vacant, empty eyes, and Charlie realized with a start that it was Poppy!

“Poppy, it’s me,” Charlie panted, holding on tight to the window ledge. Her arms were aching, and her stomach was starting to hurt from pressing against the rough stone. “I’ve been so worried about you.” Still, the eyes looking up at her didn’t register any emotion. The girl looked like Poppy but her eyes were someone else’s. They were as blank as a piece of untouched paper. “Poppy, it’s me,” Charlie repeated in a louder voice, beginning to feel scared. “I want to help you, please.” She wished her friend would say something, anything, even if it was to tell her to go away. But Poppy kept on staring at Charlie as if she were invisible.

“Look at me,” Charlie shouted. “I’m right here, Poppy. Look at me.”

Then without warning, Poppy suddenly blinked and raised her wand in the air, croaking out, “Consticrabihaltus.” Letting go, Charlie dropped abruptly onto the grass again, squealing as a gray thunderbolt whizzed by her ear. She whipped around to see it hit a starling that had landed in the tree behind her. Almost immediately the starling froze and faded to the color of bleak stone, its beak hanging open as if it was about to sing. Not waiting to see any more, Charlie turned and ran.

She had never been a particularly fast runner, but if her gym teacher were watching now, he would certainly have signed her up for the track team. Charlie ran and ran, expecting to be turned into stone at any second. Her legs ached and her stomach cramped, but still she ran on. Straight through the center of Potts Bottom and past Patisserie Marie Claire, Charlie sprinted.

Nosy old Maxine had said she was to go to the police if she found Poppy. Well, Charlie had no intention of doing any such thing. This wasn’t a police matter, as far as she was concerned. It was a case of magic gone too far. What she needed to do now was find out what sort of magic Poppy was using. Then maybe she could help her friend to stop.

Chapter Nineteen

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A Dangerous Witch

C
HARLIE CLATTERED UP THE WIDE GRANITE STEPS
of Ruthersfield Academy, and pushed against the door. It was locked. She pulled on the bell rope before she could change her mind. The clang, clang, clang of a somber bell rang out from inside. Footsteps could be heard, and Charlie stood gasping for breath as she waited for someone to come.

A girl dressed in the purple and gold school uniform opened the heavy door. “Yes?” She looked down at Charlie with a condescending sneer.

“I’d like to talk to the headmistress, please.”

“Excuse me?” The girl gave a superior snort of laughter. “You’re not a Ruthersfield girl, are you.” This was a statement, not a question, and Charlie’s confidence immediately started to crumble. Then she remembered Poppy, with her dirty, matted hair and half-eaten Fudge Monkey. Who else was there to help her friend?

“No, no, I’m not, but I still need to speak with the headmistress.”

“And what is this about?” the girl asked, examining her long purple nails.

“It’s p-p-p-private,” Charlie stammered.

“Because you’re obviously not magic, are you, and you can’t attend Ruthersfield unless you’ve got the gift.”

“I don’t want to come here,” Charlie explained, noticing a woman in a long flowing cloak walking with clipped, purposeful strides across the hallway behind the girl. She looked official, like a teacher, and raising her voice so the woman could hear, Charlie said loudly, “I need to talk to someone. It’s about Poppy Pendle.”

“Poppy Pendle,” the woman broke in, hurrying over and brushing aside the girl with the purple nails. “Shouldn’t you be in history class, Deirdre?”

“Yes, Miss Weedle, but I heard the bell ring and nobody else was around.”

“Well, you can go now, Deirdre, thank you. I’ll handle this.” Bending down so her face was level with Charlie’s, she said, “You have information on Poppy Pendle?”

“Yes,” Charlie whispered, feeling nervous.

“Come with me, please,” the woman said briskly, motioning for Charlie to follow her. “This is a matter for Ms. Roach.”

As they hurried past the girl called Deirdre, she narrowed her eyes at Charlie, flipped back her long dark hair and gave another spectacular sneer. Or maybe that was just how her face always looked.
No wonder Poppy hates it here,
Charlie thought. Worst of all, there didn’t seem to be any windows to let light in, so it was as dark and stuffy as a cardboard box.

“Here we are,” Miss Weedle, the spells and charms teacher, announced, coming to a halt in front of a padded green leather door. She knocked once and immediately pushed down the brass handle, ushering Charlie inside. “Emergency,” she mouthed to the woman sitting behind a desk. “We need to speak to Ms. Roach right now.”

“She’s on a conference call,” the desk person said, flipping shut a magazine and shuffling some papers about in a flustered manner. “I can’t disturb her.”

“Well, I can,” Miss Weedle pronounced, marching straight past the desk and opening the door beyond it.

A tall, thin woman with small round glasses was holding a phone up to her ear and frowning. Her frown got deeper and she glared at the intruders, waving them away with a flick of her wrist. She covered the mouthpiece and hissed, “Busy!”

“It’s about Poppy,” Miss Weedle said, rolling her eyes in Charlie’s direction.

“I’ll call you back,” the headmistress snapped, abruptly hanging up the telephone. “Newspaper reporters,” she grumbled. “All the daily press are hounding me for interviews. They know a Ruthersfield girl is involved, of course. I’m trying to keep this thing contained, but an evil witch is big news. Especially one who has turned to the dark side at such a young age.” Adjusting her glasses, she studied Charlie through them. “Would someone please care to explain what is going on here?”

“Well, go on,” Miss Weedle prompted, pacing nervously about the room. “Sit down and tell us what you know.” Charlie collapsed into one of the chairs opposite Ms. Roach.

“I just want to help Poppy,” she said, feeling tears well up in her eyes. “Only I don’t know how.”

“But you know where she is?” Ms. Roach questioned, leaning over the desk. “Because it’s important you tell us.”

“I d-d-d-don’t want to get Poppy into trouble,” Charlie stammered. “I’m just scared because she seemed so, so . . .” She stopped and thought hard for a moment, trying to come up with the right word. “She seemed so lost.”

“Lost!” Ms. Roach and Miss Weedle said at the same time.

“Yes, her hair was a mess, and I don’t think she’d changed her clothes in quite a while. She didn’t seem to recognize me, and,” Charlie added with emphasis, “she was eating a Fudge Monkey.” Neither Ms. Roach nor Miss Weedle seemed to understand the full significance of this.

Ms. Roach finally murmured, “Well, go on.”

“I believe she’s turned her parents to stone,” Charlie whispered, wondering how much she should tell them. “She seems to have turned a lot of things to stone.”

“We know,” Ms. Roach sighed, “and it’s becoming a bit of a problem. I’ve already had the police round here asking questions. Did you hear about the manager at the local Super Savers Market?”

“My dad read about him in the newspaper this morning.”

“Then you understand that this does not look good for Ruthersfield,” Ms. Roach continued. “We are a school with a superb reputation in witchcraft,” she said, speaking as if she had lockjaw. Her face was so tense Charlie could see a big blue vein throbbing at the side of her neck. “Most of our girls go on to have brilliant careers in magic, and we have many Noblet Prize winners among our alumnae.” She shook her head sadly. “In fact, Poppy Pendle was destined for great things.”

“But she doesn’t like magic,” Charlie pointed out. “She doesn’t want to be a witch.”

“Oh, that’s nonsense,” Ms. Roach said. “Utter nonsense. Poppy was one of our finest witches.”

“But she doesn’t enjoy it,” Charlie stressed. “Magic makes her miserable. She wants to be a baker, only her parents won’t let her. She’s furious with them. That’s why she ran away. She never had tonsillitis at all.”

“She ran away!” Ms. Roach looked shocked. “I must admit I thought it was odd when her mother told us Poppy had been sick, because she’s never missed a day of school before. We had no idea she ran away. Of course there was talk amongst the girls,” Ms. Roach admitted. “But we didn’t believe such rumors for a moment. Her parents never said a word.”