The Weekend Witches and Other Stories

murmured, but Vanessa was deaf to her protests. Looping the skipping rope through the dog’s collar she led it to Natalie’s place. Misty the cat took one look at him and prudently decided to settle for the safety of the shed roof, where she stretched in a patch of sunshine and watched the proceedings with interest.

  There followed a very happy hour or so as the girls threw sticks for the obliging dog to retrieve. He answered happily to Brendan but Natalie pointed out that he would probably answer to anything.

  ‘Here pudding face,’ she called. The dog panted up to her and licked her with a loving tongue.

  ‘Ugh, yuck! Go away!’ she groaned, pushing him off her.

  ‘How long does the spell last?’ Alice wanted to know.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ Vanessa said, feeling flustered. ‘The book didn’t say. But Brendan is so much nicer and friendlier as a dog maybe he could stay like this for ages.’

  ‘What are we going to do with him?’ Natalie asked. ‘My parents won’t let me have a dog so he won’t be able to stay here.’

  ‘Couldn’t we tie him in the shed overnight while my parents get used to the idea that Brendan is gone. Then I could ask them if I could have a dog and they might say yes.’

  ‘He’d probably howl the place down,’ Natalie pointed out. ‘Anyway, if he is your brother he had better go home with you. He will want to sleep in his own bed.’

  Vanessa looked a bit uncertain about this.

  ‘Perhaps we could turn him back again,’ Alice suggested. ‘Is there a reversal spell?’

  ‘I’d have to look up the book.’ Vanessa sounded flustered.

  ‘But if we are Weekend Witches then we shouldn’t do any spells until next Saturday,’ Natalie pointed out helpfully. ‘So you’ll have to look after the dog until then.’

  ‘Natalie,’ called a voice.

  ‘Bother, that’s Mum. I’m going to have to go now. You’d better take Brendan. If she sees him she’ll go berserk.’

  ‘I’d better go home as well,’ said Alice. ‘I’ll see you at school tomorrow, Vanessa.’

  Vanessa’s heart sank. It had seemed like such a good game until now. She hadn’t expected the spell to work either and she knew her parents would never understand if she turned up with a dog. Dejectedly she tied the skipping rope to his collar and said goodbye to Alice and Natalie. She trudged home slowly, the dog apparently happy to walk beside her after all the exercise it had done chasing sticks.

  Vanessa was at the final corner when an elderly man strode up to her.

  ‘Benjie!’ he cried. ‘Where did you find him? I've been looking for him all afternoon. He dug a hole under the fence and raced off. I hope he didn’t give you any trouble?’

  ‘Oh no, he was fine,’ said a bewildered Vanessa as the man took a lead from his pocket and clipped it to Benjie’s collar. He handed Vanessa back her skipping rope and with a final ‘thanks,’ he walked back along the street.

  ‘It wasn’t Brendan at all,’ thought Vanessa. ‘But Mum said he had gone so part of the spell must have worked.’

  She arrived home in time to help her mother prepare the dinner.

  ‘Mum, where is Brendan?’ she asked.

  ‘I told you, he’s gone,’ her mother answered. ‘He went off to a basketball tournament with the Chapmans. He’s going to stay with Luke tonight because they won’t get back until late. I thought you’d be pleased to have some peace and quiet for a change.’

  ‘Well, yes I am really,’ agreed Vanessa.

  She thought hard as she peeled and chopped the carrots.

  ‘The spell did work in a way, I guess, but next weekend we will have to try something else.’

  ‘What are you thinking, Vanessa?’ asked her father as he saw her far-away expression.

  His wife laughed. ‘Oh, Vanessa thinks about all sorts of things. Her head is always in the clouds. Isn’t that right, Vanessa?’

  ‘Mmm, clouds, that’s right,’ murmured Vanessa. She suddenly remembered the straw broom in Natalie’s tool shed. Now if only they could find the right spell they would be able to fly.

  ‘Weekend Witches Forever,’ Vanessa cried joyfully, beaming at her startled parents. ‘Is dinner ready yet?’

  Flying High

  The Seddons were short of money.

  ‘It’s because of that sailing ship,’ Bethany told her brother Stephen. ‘Since Dad decided to build it in the back yard, it’s taken all the spare money we have.’

  ‘I heard Mum telling Auntie Gwen that boats were a big hole you threw money into,’ Stephen agreed.

  ‘It’s not as if we even got to sail on it.’ Bethany sighed.

  Like all her father’s crazes, he had lost interest in the sailing ship at last. This may have been because he realized that he would never be able to afford to finish it, but was more likely that some other project had taken his fancy. It wouldn’t have been so bad if Mr Seddon had tried to build a small boat. That would have been quicker to finish and fun for them all. But Mr Seddon always went to extremes and had begun the construction of something larger than the house. A steady succession of bills for all the building materials had come in and these had stacked into an alarmingly high pile before Mrs Seddon had put her foot down.

  ‘Things have gone far enough,’ she said firmly. ‘Either that boat goes or I do.’

  Mr Seddon had taken one look at her face and given in.

  ‘Oh well, I’d better sell it then. Someone is bound to want it as a good project. We’ll need a crane to get it out though. It won’t fit over the gate.’

  Mrs Seddon thankfully agreed to pay for a crane to remove the boat, but despite selling it they remained very short of money.

  ‘Look on the bright side,’ she had told her rather disconsolate children when she broke the news that there wouldn’t be any pocket money for the next year, ‘At least you now have plenty of room in the back yard for playing.’

  This was true, but as the grass had turned to mud after the boat was removed, it wasn’t going to be much fun to play on until the grass grew back.

  ’And that will take ages,’ complained Stephen.

  ‘We have to have pocket money,’ Bethany frowned.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ her father said cheerfully, coming into the kitchen in time to overhear her complaint. ‘I am going to make us all rich again. I have a plan.’

  ‘What sort of plan?’ asked Bethany cautiously.

  She knew what her father was like. He was apt to throw himself into projects with great enthusiasm, but somehow the results were never quite what the rest of the family enjoyed.

  ‘We’re starting with a visit to Great Aunt Mary,’ Mr Seddon said brightly. ‘We’ll go on Saturday.’

  Bethany and Stephen groaned.

  ‘I loathe visiting Great Aunt Mary,’ moaned Bethany. ‘She always says things like ‘Haven’t you grown?’ and she pinches my cheeks and pats me on the head.’

  ‘I, personally, have never been able to see anything great about her,’ Stephen agreed.

  Mrs Seddon frowned. ‘That’s not a nice thing to say. You children should feel sorry for her because she’s old and she lives alone.’

  ‘Perhaps she might like to be left alone so she can die in peace,’ suggested Stephen. ‘And anyway I get car sick so you’d better leave me behind.’

  ‘We are all going, and that is the end of it,’ said Mr Seddon sternly.

  Saturday morning dawned sunny and still.

  ‘This is a perfect day for playing cricket,’ complained Stephen. ‘And I have to waste it going to visit an old aunt.’

  ‘Perhaps it won’t be as bad as we were expecting,’ said Bethany hopefully.

  Her optimism was misplaced. The journey began badly when Mr Seddon produced a length of red ribbon and advanced on Stephen.

  ‘What’s that for?’ Stephen asked in alarm.

  ‘It’s the latest idea for preventing car sickness,’ said Mr Seddon briskly. ‘Hold still.’

  He cornered a squirming Stephen and tied the ribbon securely a
round his head.

  ‘I look like a girl,’ squawked Stephen in horror. Bethany giggled then quickly muffled it as her father frowned fiercely at her.

  ‘I forbid you to take the ribbon off, Stephen,’ he said. ‘Now get in the car.’

  Stephen shot him a look of loathing and slunk into the back seat, where he slouched down so his head couldn’t be seen through the window.

  ‘It’s diversional therapy,’ Mr Seddon explained at length to his patient wife as they drove off to Great Aunt Mary’s. ‘Stephen will be focusing on the ribbon and it will over-ride any tendency to motion sickness.’

  ‘Yes dear,’ agreed his wife, casting an anxious glance at Stephen to make sure the empty bucket was ready by his feet.

  Mr Seddon spent the rest of the journey singing loudly and exhorting his family to ‘join in the choruses.’

  ‘These songs were old before we were even born,’ muttered Bethany, trying to concentrate on her book.

  Stephen couldn’t sing. He couldn’t even speak. He gritted his teeth and slowly changed colour from a sickly pale to a ghastly green. He was just beginning to retch when Mr Seddon pulled into Great Aunt Mary’s driveway with a screech of brakes. Ripping the ribbon from his head, Stephen bolted for the bushes where he lay gasping and shuddering until the urge to throw up had passed.

  Bethany braced herself for the meeting with Great Aunt Mary. It was just as bad as she had feared. Great Aunt Mary squeezed her cheeks and told her she had grown.

  ‘And where is little Stephen?’ she asked.

  ‘He is here somewhere. Stephen!’ called Mr Seddon commandingly.

  Stephen tottered in. He was the colour of cheese and suffered the indignity of being patted on the head