Wychetts

14 Truce

  Bryony galloped down the hallway, and bumped into Edwin coming from the other direction.

  “Out of my way,” she ordered, trying to push him aside.

  “What’s up?” Edwin stood his ground. “Who’s that with your dad? It’s not your mum, is it?”

  “Of course not, dimwit. That’s Mr Dawes from the Council. He’s going to demolish the house, unless Dad convinces him otherwise. It’s a health and safety issue, and a blot on the landscape.”

  Edwin nodded. “I’ve always thought that about your dad.”

  Bryony scowled. “I meant the house, idiot.”

  “Oh.” Edwin nodded again. “I suppose that figures. So we’d have to move somewhere else?”

  “Dad can’t afford another house. He spent all his money on this shack.”

  “The berk. So what will we do?”

  “I’ll go and live with my mum. You can live in a cardboard box for all I care.”

  Edwin’s eyes widened. “Is my mum mad at him?”

  Bryony grinned. “Madder than I’ve ever seen her before.”

  “Great. They might get a divorce.” Edwin punched the air with delight, then froze. “But what if your dad convinces Mr Dawes to call off the demolition?”

  “He won’t,” said Bryony. “I’ll see to that.”

  “How?”

  “Magic, that’s how. I’m going to make lots of nasty things happen.”

  “And the house will get demolished?”

  “That’s the plan.”

  Edwin frowned. “But what about Inglenook?”

  “Fat lot of good he is,” snorted Bryony. “He can’t send me to Mum and he can’t bring her here. A bulldozer is the best thing for him. And I’m going to make sure the demolition goes ahead.”

  “Is that wise?” asked Stubby, emerging from Edwin’s pocket. “You don’t yet understand the nature of the power bestowed upon you.”

  Bryony shot the mouse a fearsome glare. “I didn’t ask for your opinion, goofy.”

  “Wait,” said Edwin, as Bryony pushed past him. “I’m going to help you.”

  Bryony wheeled back to face Edwin, her dark eyes narrow with suspicion. “Why would you want to help me?”

  “We want the same thing,” explained Edwin. “And think about it: together we can make twice as many nasty things happen.”

  Bryony chewed her bottom lip as she considered the proposition. She realised Edwin was probably right. But there was a problem.

  “You mean we become…” Bryony struggled to say the word. “Friends?”

  “No way,” said Edwin. “Let’s call it a temporary truce. So what do you say?”

  “OK.” Bryony nodded. “A truce it is. But it’s only temporary, right?”

  “Only temporary,” agreed Edwin. “So what do we do first?”

  “I suggest you do think about this for a second,” warned Stubby. “For two reasons. Firstly, thinking should prove a novel experience for you both. Secondly, meddling with Wychetts’ power is dangerous. You have no idea what could happen as a consequence.”

  “I know what will happen if we do nothing,” said Bryony. “I’ll end up stuck in this hovel forever, with soppy pants here and his stupid smiley mother.”

  “And I’ll have to put up with Browny Splatt,” responded Edwin. “And her stupid gormless father.”

  Stubby groaned. “If you had one extra brain cell between you, you could just about qualify as a cabbage patch. Why won’t you listen to me? Why won’t you…”

  “Let’s get started,” said Edwin, stuffing a protesting Stubby back into his pocket.

  Bryony nodded, and set off down the hallway. She was so going to enjoy this.