A Bad Spell for the Worst Witch (4 page)

BOOK: A Bad Spell for the Worst Witch
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CHAPTER THREE

ire-drill was followed immediately by breakfast in the dining-hall and everyone was surprised to see Ethel deliberately sitting down next to Mildred, for it was common knowledge that the two were not on the best of terms.

‘You haven’t changed, I see,’ remarked Ethel provokingly.

Mildred ignored this jibe and sprinkled sugar over her bowl of porridge which resembled a drought-stricken river-bed.

‘Actually,’ continued Ethel, ‘I’ve got a bone to pick with you, Mildred Hubble.’

‘Oh?’ said Mildred. ‘What?’

‘It’s about terrorizing my little sister,’ replied Ethel.

‘I don’t even
know
your little sister!’ exclaimed Mildred.

‘Really?’ said Ethel. ‘Are you sure you don’t remember telling a poor little girl named Sybil some stupid story about being turned into a frog?’

‘Gosh, was that your sister?’ asked Mildred.

‘Yes, it
was
, as a matter of fact,’ replied Ethel.

‘I don’t know why we didn’t notice, Mil,’ said Maud, rallying to her friend’s side. ‘We should have noticed that spiky nose anywhere.’

Ethel turned deep mauve with rage.

‘Oh, come
on
, Ethel,’ said Mildred, trying to make peace. ‘It
was
only a made-up story. She
was
being a bit of a weed and in any case I went to cheer her up in the first place.’

‘A fine way to cheer people up!’ retorted Ethel. ‘Terrifying the wits out of them. Sybil still hasn’t got over the shock — and don’t you go insulting my family. Sybil’s delicate, not a weed.’


Look
, Ethel,’ said Mildred firmly, ‘just stop it, will you? I’m not getting into a fight over some silly little first-year whether she’s your sister or not, and if you’ll excuse me, this porridge is bad enough hot, but cold it’s inedible and there’s a long way to go till lunchtime.’

‘I won’t forget this,’ muttered Ethel. ‘No one insults
my
family and gets away with it.’

‘Weed!’ exclaimed Mildred, feeling suddenly reckless after all Ethel’s prodding. ‘All you Hallows are weeds, weeds, weeds!’

Ethel got up and flounced out of the hall, looking grim.

‘You shouldn’t goad her,’ said Enid. ‘You know what she’s like.’

‘I know,’ said Mildred, ‘but she does ask for it sometimes with all her airs and graces. No one insults
my
family,’ she mimicked in Ethel’s voice. ‘She’s just an old windbag, she’ll have forgotten by tomorrow.’

‘I wouldn’t be too sure about
that
,’ warned Maud.

After breakfast Miss Hardbroom announced that the rest of the morning would be devoted to cat-training. All the girls were presented with black kittens in their first term at the academy and these were trained to ride on the back of their broomsticks. Mildred, however, had been given a rather dim-witted tabby because there hadn’t been quite enough black ones to go round. It seemed rather typical of her luck that she had ended up with the wrong sort of cat, and she couldn’t help wondering if Miss Hardbroom had made sure that the misfit kitten had been given to Mildred, rather than someone like Ethel.

‘I hope you have all been practising during the holiday,’ said Miss Hardbroom, as the girls all lined up with their brooms hovering next to them and the cats perched on the back – that is to say,
most
of the cats were perched on the back. Mildred’s tabby was clinging desperately to the front of her cardigan, its claws hooked in and a wild, desperate look on its face.

‘The cat is supposed to be
on
the broomstick, Mildred,’ said Miss Hardbroom wearily.

‘Yes, Miss Hardbroom,’ agreed Mildred, dragging the cat from her front and reducing the cardigan to shreds at the same time. The desperate creature immediately spread itself flat on the back of the broom with its eyes glued shut as if awaiting execution.

‘How many terms have you been training that cat, Mildred?’ said Miss Hardbroom. ‘Look at the other cats. None of
them
seem to be finding it so terribly difficult to just
sit
on their brooms. It is not as though they were being asked to do an aerobatic display, Mildred. Now take that cat to your room and work with it there for the rest of the morning. The creature is not fit to be seen until it is properly trained. It is a disgrace to the academy.’

‘Yes, Miss Hardbroom,’ said Mildred, now faced with the embarrassing task of prising the unfortunate cat from the broomstick and making her way miserably from the yard with the taunting stare of Ethel boring into her back.

Inside her room, Mildred decided to get into bed for a few minutes to warm up. It was a freezing cold day and her feet were like blocks of ice after the session in the yard. The cat, delighted that its ordeal was over, burrowed under the covers like a furry hot-water bottle, and although Mildred had only meant to sit and get warm, within a few minutes her eyelids began to droop, and before long she was fast asleep –
so
fast asleep that she did not hear the door opening very quietly.

CHAPTER FOUR

he noise of the bedroom door being slammed woke Mildred with a start. She opened her eyes and froze with horror and disbelief at the sight of a vast creature staring down at her with green eyes each as big as a lilypond.

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