Witch's Business

  “Gracious, no!” Jess put her hands over her mouth. “I clean forgot. I didn’t even put up the CLOSED notice, because Mr. Adams came. Oh, Frank! Suppose there’s a queue of customers!”

  “We’ll send them away,” said Frank. “I’ve done with it. Come on.” He threw down the tea towel, and both of them ran through the garden to the shed.

  To their relief, there was no one outside the window. Jess hurried forward to get the notice in, and tripped over something in the way. She looked down to see what it was. It was a leg—a large, sturdy leg, in dirty blue denim, with a battered shoe on the end of it.

  “Oh, Frank!” she said. “Come quick! There’s a piece of a person here.”

  Jess backed away from the leg just as Frank ran forward. They collided. Frank staggered and trod on the leg.

  “Sliced toes in puke!” said the leg. “Now you broke my ankle.”

  Frank and Jess, holding on to each other, and very shaken, leaned forward and looked into the space beyond the garden roller. Buster Knell was there. It was his leg, and it was joined onto him in the usual way—but he looked unusual all the same. He was bent over, hugging himself, and did not seem to want to move. Odder still, his eyes were swollen all round, and there were tear stains all over his face and wet new tears on his sweater. Frank and Jess stared. It was odd enough to have Buster in their shed, but even odder to see he had been crying his eyes out there. Frank was quite awed, because no one had ever before seen Buster cry. Jess was almost sorry for him.

  “What is the matter?” she said.

  Buster gave out language—slimy, degutted, maggot-puked, body-bits language—and, when he had finished doing that, he burst into tears again and said pathetically, “And I thought you weren’t never coming, either.”

  “But why?” said Jess. “What is it?”

  “Her,” said Buster. “Look what she done to me.”

  “What?” said Frank. Apart from the tears, there did not seem to be anything wrong with Buster.

  “Who?” said Jess. “Biddy?”

  “Yes,” said Buster. “Her.” And they had to listen to more language, and to watch a great many more tears. Then Buster asked, “Mean to say you can’t see nothing wrong?” He held out a big, strong arm shakily toward them. “Can’t you see ’em?”

  “See what?” said Frank.

  “I don’t know what they are,” said Buster. “Things. Crawling all over, nipping and biting and scratching. Some of ’em stinging. And you can’t see ’em?”

  “No,” said Frank and Jess.

  “Then they’re invisible,” said Buster. “But they’re there. I can feel ’em as well as see ’em. I can’t move for ’em. Stafford and Ray and the rest has got ’em, too. They got the willies, and we all hid up for fear people see and ask us about ’em. I came here to see what you could do. But,” said Buster, beginning to cry again, “if you can’t see ’em, then you won’t believe me. But they’re true as I sit here. Honest. It’s gut-splitting agony.”

  Somehow—probably because he was crying—Frank and Jess did believe him. They were both shocked that Biddy should do this to her own servants, and Jess thought how mean it was to make the Things invisible, so that no one would believe there was anything wrong with the gang.

  “Please don’t cry,” she said.

  “What did she do it for?” said Frank.

  “Because of you,” said Buster. “We was to get you and Ginger and the scum and bring you all to her when you come out of the Mill House. And you wouldn’t come. So she got mad and said she’d teach us a lesson, not to disobey. You know we tried. She wouldn’t listen.”

  “Buster,” said Jess, “get this clear. We are not going to go to Biddy of our own accords, even to say you tried to bring us. Not if you paid us.”

  “I can’t pay you,” said Buster. “I got no money. They stopped our money for a window. That’s why we had to sell ourselves. All I want is for you to get us out of it. Get that tooth back and stop us having to do what she wants. It’s killing us all. Honest.”

  “We would if we could,” said Frank.

  “We’ve been trying,” said Jess. “But we can’t seem to.”

  “See here,” said Buster. “If you do it, I’ll be your friend. I’ll stick up for you. All the gang will. We’ll do anything you want, always. Promise. All you got to do is to get into that hut of hers when she’s out and grab that tooth. She’s got it there, in the middle. I’d grab it if I could, but she knows everything we do, now we sell ourselves.”

  This was not a comforting thought. Frank and Jess blinked and wondered if this meant Biddy knew Buster was in their potting shed talking to them. But a chance of getting the tooth back was too good to miss.

  “How do we know when she’s out?” said Frank. “Will you tell us?”

  “Yes,” said Buster. “I’ll go down there and keep an offal-bloated lookout. I don’t mind if the Things is invisible. It’s the thought of people seeing ’em I can’t stand.”

  “We’ll be at the Mill House,” said Jess. “Will you let us know?”

  “First moment she’s off,” said Buster. “I’ll come and tell you.” Slowly, groaning and swearing, he took in his leg and began to get up. “Cor, zombie body-bits in catsup!” he said. “It’s torture!” Then he grinned a little. “Meant to be, I suppose,” he said. “But if you help, I’ll make her pay for it. Promise.”

  At that moment, the window darkened. Frank and Jess looked round to see Vernon’s face and Martin’s pushed against the glass, staring at Buster. Jess hurried to open it.

  Buster squeaked, “Keep away, can’t you! You’re worse than the Things. What do you keep doing?”

  “Sorry,” said Jess, and did her best to open the window without going too near Buster. She had almost forgotten about the Eyes.

  “Secret weapon,” Frank said smugly.

  “You’re telling me!” said Buster.

  Jess got the window open. “It’s all right,” she told Martin and Vernon. “He’s going to help us get the tooth back.”

  Vernon gave Buster a very unfriendly look. “Just him against me,” he said. “It’d better be all right.”

  “Don’t trust him an inch,” said Martin.

  “Cross my heart and hope to die, I mean it!” said Buster, and he began to cry again. That embarrassed Martin and Vernon. They looked at him and then at each other, and moved back from the window.

  “I think he’s all right,” Jess told them. “Biddy’s torturing them all, and he’s going to tell us when she’s out, so that we can take the tooth.”

  “What kind of torture?” asked Martin unbelievingly.

  “Invisible,” said Jess.

  “So is my big toe invisible,” said Vernon.

  “So was the magic on the padlock at the back of her hut,” said Frank. “And that hurt enough. You’d better believe him. It’s our one chance to get that tooth.”

  “True,” said Vernon. “Okay, I believe you, Buster, but no funny tricks.”

  “If you felt like me,” said Buster, “you wouldn’t be able to think of no funny tricks, even if you wanted to.”

  “Serve you right,” said Vernon unfeelingly. “Now you know how Silas feels.”

  “You know it wasn’t meant for him,” said Buster.

  “Buster,” said Jess, “just go and watch for Biddy. We believe you. We’re going to the Mill House now, to look for Jenny’s heirloom.”

  “I say,” said Frank. “I suppose you don’t know where Biddy hid it, do you, Buster?”

  “Hid what?” said Buster.

  “The emerald necklace,” said Jess. “After all, you’ve been stopping us looking for it.”

  “She never told us nothing,” said Buster. “Not a vampire-brain sausage. I tell you, though—if I see it, I’ll get it for you. Promise.”

  Even Martin and Vernon were impressed by this offer. They were almost polite to Buster while Frank took down the notice at last, and he and Jess hurried to get coats and join Martin and Vernon in th
e allotment path. It was beginning to rain when they got there. Buster cursed. They watched him climb the fence and go limping away across the allotments toward Biddy’s hut.

  “I still don’t trust him,” said Martin.

  “We’ll have to,” said Vernon. “For that tooth.”

  There was a rustling in the grass by the fence. Everyone looked. Biddy’s cat was running, crouching and cringing, past a row of cabbages and away after Buster.

  “Her cat,” said Vernon.

  “It was in our garden,” said Jess.

  “After him,” said Vernon. “I don’t like that.”

  Nobody liked it. They all shivered and walked on through the rain in the direction of the road. They had just reached the end corner of the allotments when they heard the grass there rustling again. Vernon picked up a stone. They all crept across to the railings, ready to bombard that cat this time.

  Though it does seem cruel, Jess thought. Even if it is a spy.

  It was not the cat. It was Stafford Briggs. He was curled up in the long grass there, looking as miserable as Buster. His knees were in a clump of new-grown nettles, but he did not seem to notice. Nor did he look up. Perhaps he thought they could not see him.

  “I say,” said Jess. “Stafford.”

  Stafford’s face came up and, seeing their four heads watching him over the railings, looked truly horrified. “Tomato-puke off!” he said. “Leave me be.”

  “It’s all right, you know,” said Frank. “The Things are invisible. No one can see them but the gang.”

  “What?” said Stafford. “Can’t you see them?”

  They shook their four heads.

  “But,” said Stafford, “I’ve got one sits on my nose. Can’t you see that?”

  “No,” said Vernon. “You look all right to us. The same old ugly Stafford.”

  Stafford sat up, too relieved even to glare at Vernon. “Sure?”

  “Certain,” said Jess. “Buster’s going to help us get the tooth back. Will you?”

  “Will I!” said Stafford. “I’d do anything. We’re all going crackers—corpse-stink crackers! We didn’t get no lunch through it. I bet my mum’s wild.” That, as he said it, seemed to remind Stafford of something. “Here, any of you lot seen Kevin?”

  Jess saw Martin and Vernon look at each other. “No,” they said. “No,” said she and Frank. “Why?”

  Stafford looked miserable. “Nothing,” he said. “It’s okay. Only our mum’ll twist my head off when I get back. Listen, if you do see Kevin, tell him it’s all right and to go home, will you?”

  They promised to do so, and left Stafford muttering and groaning and making up his mind to stand up. As soon as they were out of hearing, Frank asked Martin, “What was that about Kevin?”

  “That’s what made us so late,” said Martin.

  “Partly,” said Vernon. “Seems he got desprit again. Anyway, he turns up at our place with a black eye and says he’s got to see Silas. Wouldn’t tell my mum who he was, or anything. So she asked me, and I said I couldn’t remember.”

  “Why did you say that?” said Jess.

  “He looked so scared,” said Vernon. “And he’d got a load of cars and things he said he was giving to Silas. It didn’t seem fair to stop him. So then they let him in to see Silas. Silas knew him all right, only he can’t talk too well with his face like that, so it was okay.”

  “I think,” said Jess soberly, “that the black eye was our fault. We gave poor Kevin away without meaning to, just before lunch. Oh, dear! We always seem to do something wrong.”

  “He’s safe for now,” said Martin. “Mrs. Wilkins was sorry for him. But we’ve had the Aunt, too.”

  “The Aunt!” said Frank. “Why?”

  “On about painting,” said Vernon. “Wants to give me lessons. Wants to paint Martin. Wants to ride on a broomstick—we think Biddy sent her. Wants her to keep an eye on us.”

  “Oh, dear!” said Jess. “And we got the cat. It does seem to tie up.”

  “Then,” said Martin, “just as we were trying to get away, we saw Mr. Adams, too, coming up the drive, and we couldn’t face any more. We did a bunk over the orchard wall and ran all the way here.”

  “Biddy massing all her forces,” said Frank. “Why?”

  “Maybe,” said Jess, “we’re so hot on her trail that she’s frightened. She’s afraid we will find the necklace after all. And this means that no one’s in the Mill House, so we can really search in peace. Just think if we get the necklace and the tooth this very afternoon!”

  ELEVEN

  Frankie and Jenny were leaning out of the Aunt’s bedroom window when they reached the Mill House. Jess noticed someone had stuck brown paper over the broken pane.

  “There’s no one here,” said Frankie.

  “They’ve both gone out,” said Jenny.

  “Good,” said Vernon. “Open the door, then. It’s raining.”

  Frankie and Jenny vanished from the window and, after much clattering, they were heard opening the door.

  “We started looking,” Frankie said.

  “You took so long,” said Jenny.

  Vernon sighed. “I knew you would. But it doesn’t matter.”

  Jess explained what Biddy had done to the gang, even though they were her own servants. Neither little girl was surprised.

  “She hates everyone,” said Jenny calmly.

  “And Buster deserves it,” said Frankie.

  “Well,” said Jess, “not more than just enough to teach him a lesson. I hope she stops soon. What will happen to them if they’re covered with Things at school?”

  Frankie chuckled. Jess thought she was rather unfeeling, but then, she had not seen Buster crying and Stafford with his knees in a clump of nettles.

  “Start searching,” said Vernon. “Forget Buster. I still don’t trust him.”

  They searched, and it did not go well. Vernon put his hand on a sticky wet picture, and Frank stuck that picture to the front of another picture while he was trying to help Vernon unstick. When he pulled the two pictures apart, they had got mixed. The milkman was spread all over a picture of Biddy’s hut.

  “Perhaps,” he said, rather hopelessly, “we’ve invented a new kind of painting.”

  “Milkmonger,” said Vernon. “Or Biddyman.”

  Then Frankie upset a paint pot, and while Jess was helping her mop it up, she knocked a tube of red paint down, which Martin trod on. Martin slid right across the room, leaving a trail like a bloodstain, and then he fell down on top of it. Most of the bloodstain got on his clothes.

  “Oh, dear!” said Jess. “She’ll know.”

  “So will my mother,” said Martin.

  Frankie fetched some turpentine and sponged him. Then she sponged the floor. While she did that, the others went on searching. They turned the whole room out, but there was no necklace. There was not so much as an earring.

  “I don’t think they’re here after all,” said Jenny.

  “They must be,” said Jess. “Or why did she try to stop us?”

  Frank discovered he knew the answer to that. “She wouldn’t stop us at the right place,” he said. “That would be giving it away. She’d try to stop us before we got round to seeing where the right place must be—before we’ve searched all the wrong places.”

  “I think you’re right,” said Frankie.

  “That means it’s down at her hut,” said Jenny.

  “Not necessarily,” said Martin.

  “Why not?” said Vernon. “That’s where I’d put it. With magic to keep off thieves.”

  “All the same,” said Martin, “I think we ought to search the roof here, to be on the safe side. Mr. Adams stopped Frankie, so it may be there.”

  “And if Buster lets us know when Biddy’s out,” said Jess, “then we can look for the necklace when we get the tooth.”

  So they searched the roof—or rather, the boys did. It had almost stopped raining by this time, and gleams of sun lit the wetness of the roof until the slates looke
d a dazzling black. Jess stood down below and thought it looked as slippery as a glacier and quite as dangerous. Sure enough, Vernon began to slide, on his face, down the steep side, clawing and shouting.

  “Just like me,” said Frankie.

  Frank leaned down to Vernon. Martin held Frank by the seat of his trousers and kept one arm round a chimney. The bricks of the chimney began to grind and give way. So did Frank’s trousers. Vernon shouted to them to let go and he would search the gutters.

  “We’ll have to,” said Martin, and tried to put the chimney straight again.

  Vernon went with a rush and a slither down to the gutter, which began to creak and clank under his weight.

  “It’s not safe!” said Jess. “Don’t you ever mend your house, Jenny?”

  “No,” said Jenny. “There’s never any money.”

  Frank and Martin were both astride the roof, digging into chimneys. Frank found a bird’s nest. Martin found a lot of soot. Vernon went clanking and creaking his way round the gutters, raking the insides of them with one toe, because he was spread out over the roof and did not dare let the gutter take his whole weight. As it was, it looked as if it would come loose any second. Dead leaves, black mud, and soggy paper came flopping down to the ground in bundles.

  “Search that lot,” Vernon called, rather breathlessly.

  Jess left Frankie and Jenny to search. She was too nervous about Vernon. When he came to the corner of the house, the gutter led into a drainpipe, where it should have been safer. But the drainpipe was rusty. As soon as Vernon trod on the end of it, it came away from the wall, and most of the gutter came with it. Vernon shut his eyes and clung to the corner of the roof. Jess turned her head away. She just had to.

  She found herself looking at a rainbow—a big, bright rainbow against a purple sky. It came right down into the trees beside the river.

  “Oh, yes,” said Jess. “The beauties of nature. I know.”

  It ought to have been lovely. Jess felt she ought to have been admiring it: the way the rainbow arched over the wide field and the way its colors melted into the new colors of the trees. You could see how big and grand it was, because there were two people running in the field, and it made them look tiny. But Jess could not attend, because, at that moment, with a squealing and a rending, the gutter came right away and Vernon fell off the roof.