Emily turned back to the dining room, just in time to see the table sneeze.
‘Achoo! Excuse me,’ it said wearily, a tired face forming from the tree rings in the middle of its top surface.
‘God bless you.’ said Emily without thinking.
‘Thanks. You’re new. Who are you?’
‘I’m Emily. I’m staying with my grannies for a few days. With my brother, Malcolm.’
‘A man child? Oh, they won’t be too happy about that, will they? Oh no they won’t.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because they’re witches, of course. Didn’t you know that?’
Emily stormed from the room and went to Granny Smith.
‘Granny. The table is talking to me, which is bad enough. But he told me you’re witches! What’s going on? Please?’
Granny Annie turned to Granny Smith, smiled and winked.
‘Sit down dearie,’ said Granny Smith. ‘Here, have this drink, it’ll calm you down.’
She handed Emily a slender mug, which was filled to the brim with a frothy, sweet-smelling, milky drink.
‘What’s this? Cappuccino?’ asked Emily.
‘Something like that, now drink.’ Emily drank. It was delicious - warm and comforting, with an unusual, nutty flavour she hadn’t tasted bore. It definitely calmed her down and she felt her pulse returning to normal. Both grannies pulled up chairs and sat bore her, each gazing into her eyes. Looking over the top of her cup, Emily shifted her gaze from one granny to the other. These were nice people. Very nice. So don’t panic.
‘Emily, we’ve to tell you something very important,’ began Granny Smith. ‘Do you promise to keep it a secret?’
‘My mum and dad say I’m not allowed to have secrets, especially with grown-ups.’
‘Sound advice that is, too,’ said Granny Annie. ‘But we’re your grannies. Now you know that we’d never ever do anything to harm you, don’t you? Grannies are the only ones who can promise that.’
Emily nodded. Granny Annie was right, of course.
‘So do you promise?’
‘Yes. Now why did the table talk to me?’
‘It’s a magic table,’ sighed Granny Smith, ‘and we’re witches.’
‘Good witches, mind,’ said Granny Annie.
‘Witches?’
‘Witches.’
‘But witches aren’t real. They’re only in movies and books and on TV.’
‘We try to keep a low profile. Sure people would panic! You know what they’re like.’
‘So can you fly on broomsticks? The brush! The cat!’
‘Well, most of what you might think about witches simply isn’t true. We can’t fly on broomsticks, for example.’
‘Look at me,’ chimed Granny Annie, ‘would any broomstick take me without breaking in two, magic or no magic?’ Granny Annie was smiling happily for the first time since Emily and Malcolm had turned up.
‘No love, we use a car, just like anyone else. Only difference is, we can put a drop of potion into the petrol tank and it’ll run for years.’
‘We haven’t been near a petrol station since 1972, you know.’
‘Oh, and the table and the cat really can talk.’
‘Why are you telling me all this?’
‘Three reasons really,’ said Granny Smith. ‘You’re the only witness to what really happened on the train. And you’re the daughter of a witch’s daughter.’ She paused.
‘And the third reason?’
‘Finish your drink, love.’ ‘Is there some kind of magic potion in this? I’m starting to feel a bit giddy inside.’
‘Just a little something natural to help you relax, that’s all. The third reason is that we’re part of a coven of twelve witches. There must always be twelve witches in a coven, that’s one of the rules. It’s to do with the moon.’
‘And?’
‘And one of our sister-witches, Edna, disappeared the day bore you came. Just "poof", vanished.’
‘We’re worried that something might have happened to her and it might be connected to the train crash and all the other awful stuff that’s been going on,’ said Granny Annie.
‘That’s sad,’ said Emily, ‘but what’s that got to do with me?’
‘Like I said, we need to have a sisterhood of twelve. So we want you to join us until we get Edna back.’
Emily’s head reeled. The drink certainly helped her to remain calm in the face of the most amazing things she’d ever been told. This was real, not a movie. Real.
‘Yes. I want to become a witch!’
‘Good girl! Good girl!’ the grannies exclaimed.
They all stood up and Emily was nearly smothered by two huge hugs.
‘So how do I become a witch?’ enquired Emily.
‘All in good time, my dear,’ said Granny Smith. ‘Now, haven’t you got some cleaning to do?’
Chapter 10: CONVERSATION WITH A TABLE
Emily, now feeling quite happy and giddy, went back into the dining room. She quickly swept the floor, occasionally glancing at the broom in her hands, convinced it could fly. Then she took a dust cloth and began to wipe a thick layer of old dust from the table.
‘It’ll be good to have the old coven meeting on me again,’ it said.
‘Why? Has it been a while?’ asked Emily, by now comfortable with having a conversation with a table.
‘That feels good, just a little bit of dirt stuck there, no, left a bit, that’s it. Thanks. Yes, they’ve been having most of their meetings at Edna’s lately. She’s the leader of the coven. Or was.’
‘What happened?’
‘Your grannies called around to see her early last night, a few hours bore your train was due to arrive. Apparently, she’d vanished into thin air. Cat and all gone.’
‘Don’t witches do that sort of thing all the time?’
‘I suppose they do, what with their invisibility spells and all. But not without letting their sister-witches know first.’
‘What do you think happened?’
‘They’ve all been uneasy these past few months. I sensed an evil presence in the area last summer. Strange things began to happen and my brothers were full of chatter about it.’
‘Brothers?’
‘Trees, of course. We’re chatting all the time.’
‘I noticed.’
‘When the wind blows, our conversations can travel the length of the country. Trees see so many things, so many. Mostly of no interest to humans. You know, the weather and stuff. We love talking about the weather. Especially the sun and the rain. Ah, the sun and the rain.’
‘You’re no different from most people, then.’
‘Well I’ve been around a lot longer.’
‘How old are you?’
‘Three hundred and twelve. At least that was my age until someone took an axe to me. I’ve been a table for twenty-two years now. It’s not so bad, I suppose.’
The table sounded really sad and Emily felt that it must be awful to be a felled tree, swaying happily in the breeze one second, attacked by a sharp axe the next.
‘I’m so sorry that you were cut down. I really am.’
‘Thank you, child. You’re a good apple, I can see that.’
‘So what evil things happened?’
‘Down by the lake. A stranger came and cut down all the trees around. Like he wanted to silence us and didn’t want to be spied upon. Then there were accidents, disappearances ...’
‘Missing children?’
‘Certainly. It’s an awful business.’
‘Do you think this evil presence is behind Edna’s disappearance?’ Emily asked.
‘I’m sure of it. I heard chatter that there were strange lights and smells around her house last night.’
‘Do my grannies know about this?’
‘But of course. They both chat to me every day. I keep them informed about what’s happening out in nature. Witches are so close to nature. They respect it far more than the city types, with their machines and
concrete. I sometimes think that what this planet needs is a few more witches. That’s if there’s to be any chance of saving it.’
‘Well, I’m going to be a witch,’ said Emily proudly, as she finished dusting off the table, which now looked quite grand.
‘I feel better already,’ said the table. ‘Maybe there is hope.’
Chapter 11: AN EVIL WIZARD AT PLAY
The children sat quietly at their desks. Eyes down, faces dirty, they waited fearfully for their next lesson.
‘Well, my lovely pupils. Time for some biology. Everyone to the lab. Now!’
The children stayed at their desks.
‘I said NOW!’ screamed the wild-haired, bearded man, who stood by the dusty blackboard, as he faced the four desks, three of which were occupied.
A hand was raised, hesitantly.
‘Yes, Duggan. What is it now, you little snivelling oaf?’
‘Please sir, the shackles. We can’t go to the lab without you opening them.’
‘I knew that.’
The crazy teacher pulled his ragged robes apart at his chest, to reveal a heavy chain around his neck, from which there dangled an assortment of ancient-looking keys. He fumbled through the keys, muttering loudly to himself, until he found the key to the children’s shackles. Then he bent down at the first desk and unlocked a large padlock, pulling the rusty chain free from the desk’s cast iron frame.
‘Don’t move, you cur,’ he bellowed, as he strode to the rear of the small, dirty room, into which only a single shaft of golden sunlight penetrated. It came through a crack in the boarded-up window.
He carried four large balls, again made of iron, and dropped them with a loud crash beside the desks. The wooden floorboards groaned and cracked. He used the padlock to attach a ball to the first child’s ankle chain.
‘Now try and escape,’ he laughed.
He unlocked the other two children from their desks and fitted the balls to their chains, too. He threw his last ball to the back of the room in disgust.
‘I need another one to fill my class,’ he muttered slyly. Then he went to the ball, picked it up and placed it carefully back in its box.
‘Now move it!’ he screamed. He liked to scream and shout, especially at poor, defenceless kids.
The children, all boys, all around Malcolm’s age, shuffled wearily after their master. Carrying the heavy balls in their weak hands, there was no chance of escape, the chains between their ankles meant that taking a normal step was impossible. They went into another small room, this time more brightly-lit. The walls were whitewashed and a weak bulb hung from the rotting beams overhead. A single, long desk with a rusty metal top surface, sat in the middle of the room. On the desk was some sort of a box, which was covered with a dirty old rag so the children couldn’t see what was inside. But they knew that something was alive in there, for the rag was moving.
Pulling a sharp knife from his pocket, their teacher smiled an evil smile, gleefully anticipating what would come.
Chapter 12: MAGIC SANDWICHES
It wouldn’t be long now. Emily could feel it, another of the odd feelings she’d been having.
‘All done in there?’ asked Granny Smith.
‘Yes, gran. That table is very interesting. Do you have a name for it?’
‘It’s a him. Trees and wooden objects are all male. They’re the only males we can stand being around. And his name is Table. Now will you butter some bread for me?’
‘All these?’ asked Emily, noticing the twenty or so loaves of bread on the kitchen table. The smells of the cooking roasts gave her strong hunger pangs and her stomach groaned, seeming to say ‘Feed me!’.
‘We can’t let you use magic until you’ve been officially made a witch, young lady,’ said Granny Annie.
‘But we can help,’ said Granny Smith, offering Emily a tiny porcelain cup, in which there was a small amount of bright orange liquid. ‘Now drink this.’
Emily drank the contents of the little cup, expecting it to taste of oranges. But it tasted of mint and had the effect of making her tummy feel as if she’d just eaten a roast lamb dinner, complete with potatoes, carrots and gravy.
‘Wow! I feel really full.’
‘Well, you’ve just drank a Fill-me-up potion. What do you expect?’
Emily said ‘That really works! Why do you bother with normal food?’
‘Wouldn’t life be very boring if we couldn’t eat properly? We witches love our sangwiches. We really do.’
‘And fry-ups,’ chimed Granny Annie.
‘And fry-ups. Now watch,’ said Granny Smith, as she pulled a twig from her apron pocket and waved it at the loaves of bread. She muttered in some unknown language.
There weren’t any stars or tinkling sounds, as Emily expected, but the results were more amazing than she could have anticipated. The loaves of fresh-baked bread lined themselves up along the length of the table and, as if being cut by an invisible knife, began to slice themselves. Each slice was perfect.
‘Now take the butter knife,’ said Granny Smith, handing Emily an ordinary-looking knife with a white enamel handle.
‘Where’s the butter?’
‘Just try it.’
Emily took the first slice of bread and spread the knife along its length. To her amazement, butter appeared from the knife and coated the slice of bread evenly with lush dairy goodness. In no time at all, Emily had buttered every slice. She was elated and completely delighted with herself for having being allowed into this magical world that she never knew existed until today.
‘All done.’
‘Good girl, now can you set the table inside for us?’
‘Yes, but can you make me a witch first?’
‘Sorry darling. We can’t do that until the coven agrees. It’s only a formality, but we must stick to the rules. There’s too much at stake.’
‘I understand,’ said Emily, sounding a little glum.
‘Chin up, dear. They’ll be here soon.’
Chapter 13: WITCH NUMBER TWELVE
There was a funny knock at the door. Three taps, followed by a pause, then one more tap.
‘Why that’ll be one of us now.’
Granny Annie opened the door and two ladies came into the kitchen. Darkness had fallen like a ton of bricks outside and a cold wind whipped through the door, which was hurriedly shut. Emily had seen the two ladies at the train station earlier that day. She was introduced to them by Granny Smith.
‘Emily, this is Sarah.’
‘Pleased to meet you,’ said Emily, unconsciously curtsying.
‘Likewise, m’dear. Any grandchild of these two must be something special.’
‘And this is Irene.’
‘Hello.’
‘Hello to you too, dearie.’
‘Drat,’ said Granny Annie. ‘We never set the table. Oh well.’
She waved her wand at the table. This time there was a bright flash and, when Emily glanced into the dining room, she was astounded to see that the table was set perfectly, with twelve placings and assorted centrepieces. There was another special knock on the door. The seven remaining witches came in together. Emily’s head began to spin and the level of chatter rose dramatically.
‘This is Eileen.’
‘Hello.’
‘And Patricia.’
‘Nice to meet you.’
‘Gemma’
‘Hi.’
‘Jackie.’
‘Hello.’
‘Tara.’
‘Hello.’
‘And Lola.’
‘Hi.’
‘And finally, Emily, meet Rachel.’
‘Hello.’
Emily’s head was spinning and her shoulders aching from all the tight hugs. The smell of old ladies’ perfume filled the air. All the witches passed positive comment on the look of the piles of beef and ham sandwiches, which had been magically put together, and whirled into the dining room to take their regular seats at the talking table. They each greeted the table, w
hich seemed capable of carrying on many conversations at once, faces forming from its knots and lines as required. Three seats remained empty. Granny Smith and Granny Annie each put a hand on Emily’s shoulder and led her gently to a seat at the head of the table. Then they took their own seats.
‘Sisters,’ began Granny Annie, ‘we are gathered here tonight for two very important reasons. Firstly, we must empower this young lady,’ she nodded at Emily, ‘to become a witch and complete our coven in Edna’s mysterious absence. Secondly, we must discover what happened to Edna, what caused the train crash and what is behind the strange events of recent weeks. It is my belief that a single force is behind all these goings on.’
The witches nodded unanimously in agreement.
‘Who will vouch for Emily?’ asked Lola, a beautiful-looking witch, with long, blonde hair and ruby red lips.
‘I will vouch for her, as she is of my own flesh and blood,’ said Granny Smith, with pride in her voice.
‘I too will vouch for her,’ said Granny Annie. ‘She is a good girl with great potential. Are there any here who would disagree with Emily joining our coven?’
All the witches shook their heads and smiled at Emily. She felt good, welcomed.
‘Then welcome to the coven, Emily. You are now officially a witch!’
Emily didn’t know what to say. She had expected an elaborate ceremony, possibly involving potions, animal sacrifices and strange dances. Her head spun, which was becoming a familiar feeling in Castleconnell.
‘Am, thanks. Thanks,’ she said. ‘I hope I’ll be a good witch and I won’t let you down.’
‘You’ll be great and you’ll learn as you go, Emily. Good girl. Now to business.’ said Granny Smith, her voice adopting a very businesslike tone. She pulled a piece of folded-up paper from inside her flower-patterned house coat.
Chapter 14: CLUE
Granny Smith brought the paper close to her face and sniffed it. An odd expression crossed her face.
‘This piece of paper was found in Edna’s house today by Lola. Thank you, Lola.’
She carefully unfolded the paper until it was about the size of a letter.
‘It’s in Edna’s writing and it reads as follows: "The evil is getting stronger. The trees, the lake, the children. The key is the All-Seeing Eye." And that’s all there is. Any ideas?’