Broomstick Battles (Witch-in-Training, Book 5) Read online

  “And you are training with my granddaughter. Fancy that!” said Pluribella, smiling broadly. (Jessica was relieved to see that she did not have iron teeth.)

  “So tell us, how do you fly in your day and age? You don’t seem to have a broom.”

  “I have a Right-Way-Upper but unfortunately I left home without it,” Jessica began.

  Walpurga and Pluribella leaned forwards, all ears.

  “The Right-Way-Upper is which way up?” Judge Portia asked.

  “It’s the kind that Walpurga invented—”

  Pluribella screamed. “By the screeching of peacocks and the racket of rooks, that is absolutely outrageous!” she yelled. She looked murderous.

  Dame Walpurga’s warts swelled with pride. Even her toad looked smug.

  “Calm down,” said Judge Portia. She took a moment to straighten her spaniel-ear wig, which Pluribella’s yelling had knocked off-centre. “Since this Modern witch-in-training confirms that the broom riders of the future use Walpurga’s brooms, the so-called Right-Way-Uppers, I suggest, ladies, that you both sign the Peace Agreement without further delay. The Witches World Wide press is waiting for an announcement.”

  *

  So that is what they did.

  Afterwards, Walpurga bustled off to declare that the Broomstick Battles were finally over and that she was the new Powers-That-Be.

  Jessica stayed with Pluribella who was mixing up a Calm Down Brew.

  “Are you still angry?” Jessica asked.

  “On the contrary, my little apple pip,” said Pluribella. “I thought the day would never come.”

  “But you lost the battle, didn’t you?”

  Pluribella cupped her very very long chin in her hand. “Listen, Jessica, I’ve been stuck up in Hagopolis for years with nothing but an attic full of cats for company – and some of them had disgusting personal habits, I might add.

  “Every night, I had to put up with Ducking and Diving Foursomes flinging flour bombs at me and gangs of Besoms-R-Us screeching down my chimneypots. I tried making Brews and Spells to turn them into stone or, at least, turn down their volume, but there were too many of them and they could all Spell back. Frankly, I was sick of the war. I couldn’t wait to surrender.”

  “So you don’t mind that the Right-Way-Uppers have won?”

  “Frankly, my dear, Walpurga’s broom is very convenient. It is so tiring having to get into a bad temper just to get airborne. Besides, I have had enough of being the Powers-That-Be. It’s a terrible job. Let Walpurga be the boss, I say, and see how she likes all the hurly-burly. She is already quite fierce and she has grown iron teeth. Whereas I am much calmer.” Pluribella lowered her voice to a whisper. “But don’t tell Dame Walpurga I said that. Cheers!” She raised her Calm Down Brew and clinked glasses with Jessica.

  “So what are you going to do now?”

  “I’m planning to write my memoirs. And I’m going to study Zymurgy – that’s just a fancy name for Brewing. I’m leaving Hagopolis and moving next door to Dame Walpurga here. She has everything I need in her cottage garden – I have a cunning plan to bottle her well water and sell it.”

  Jessica spluttered. “But aren’t you two sworn enemies? That’s what it says in my book.”

  “Great honking goose feathers, Jessica! The war is over now. We’re like sisters really, Walpurga and me, chums one day, sharing a yarn and a glass of Brew, then bickering and putting Spells on each other. Mind you, we old-fashioned broom riders are not going to go away, no matter what it says in your book. Some of us will still get together and flit about looking murderous for old times’ sake.” She gave a little cackle. “Have you ever tried to ride the old-style broom?”

  Jessica shook her head.

  Pluribella’s chin nodded to the corner of the room where a spiky little Wrong-Way-Upper leaned against the wall. It looked kind of cute with its lopsided twigs.

  “Why don’t you have a go?”

  Jessica walked across and picked it up. Its long wooden handle felt warm and shiny, worn smooth by Pluribella’s hands. She clambered aboard, the Wrong-Way-Up, feeling silly.

  “Vroom,” she said.

  Nothing happened. It was just like the night of her birthday when she had tried flying for the first time.

  “You’ll have to get cross,” said Pluribella, tapping the side of her nose.

  “I don’t know what to get cross about.”

  “Take your time. You’ll think of something.”

  Jessica tried scowling.

  She tried growling.

  She narrowed her eyes and tried to look murderous. It was harder than it sounded.

  These old-fashioned brooms are stupid, she thought. Walpurga really was a brilliant inventor. The modern way of flying is much better. The Powers-That-Be had no right to be so rough; the way she broke poor Walpurga’s High-flyer model broom and threw it into the well. It wasn’t fair at all. And then she had the nerve to ban flying altogether! She’d been a monster, always cross and wanting to be boss, stopping people from having any fun. It made Jessica furious just thinking about it.

  “Hu-eet,” whistled Berkeley, popping her head out of her pocket.

  “Blithering batwings,” Jessica shouted as she shot off the floor. “I’m flying.” She flipped over the table, zoomed across the ceiling, zipped through the door and darted into Walpurga’s garden.

  Pluribella came running after her in hot pursuit.

  “Wey-hey,” she shouted. “Moonrays and marrowbones. You’ve done it! That’s my girl!”

  Jessica looked down. . .

  . . .and remembered that Pluribella had been the Powers-That-Be. But she was such a nice friendly person. And so like Miss Strega. The way she said Moonrays and marrowbones. And the way she stroked her chin. And tapped her very long nose.

  The broomstick came to a complete halt. Jessica hung helplessly in midair. Then she began to lose height.

  Down she came, landing with a thump in the hawthorn tree. Then she toppled off on to Pluribella and knocked her over.

  “Oops,” she apologised, flicking some hawthorn blossom off Pluribella’s cape. “I’m terribly, terribly sorry. I hope you haven’t broken anything. I started to think about Miss Strega and forgot to be cross.”

  Pluribella nodded her long chin in agreement. “That’s the problem with the old broom in a nutshell. Staying cross is hard work. You can’t allow yourself to be distracted by anything or you fall out of the sky like a stone.”

  “I’d better go home now,” said Jessica. “Miss Strega will be worried about me. And her cat Felicity isn’t well.”

  “Give my love to both of them. It’s such a shame we never knew one another.”

  “I will do, as soon as I’ve worked out how to get back to the future. . .”

  “Goodness, haven’t you got a wand? All you do is say Going—”

  “That’s it!” Jessica grinned and rummaged in her pocket. “Going, Going, GONE!” she said, and waved her wand.

  The next second she landed with a bump on the shop counter. There was a lovely smell of lemons and cloves.

  “Oh good,” said Miss Strega, peering over her glasses. “You’re back. And Felicity isn’t a gingerbread biscuit any more. Would you care for some Cold Smelly Voles? I’ve just mingled up a Brew. I’m dying to hear all about your adventure.”

  Felicity gave Jessica an orange wink. She looked a little bald where Miss Strega and Berkeley had nibbled crumbs but otherwise was quite her usual self.

  “I’ve met your grandma Pluribella,” Jessica said. “She’s not at all as fierce as the history books say. In fact, you are very like her, Miss Strega. The way you stroke your chin. And the funny things you say. And the way you both wear the same kind of glasses. But especially, your very very long. . .” Jessica stopped. Perhaps Miss Strega would think her cheeky if she said her nose was very long.

  “My long what?” Miss Strega smiled.

  “Your very long fingers,” said Jessica, diplomatically.

  �
��Oh yes, all the Stregas have long fingers,” Miss Strega said, spreading her hands to admire them.

  Chapter Eight

  Next day, Jessica set off with Miss Strega to return Vox Libris to the library.

  Witch history was interesting, Jessica told Miss Strega, but it was quite tricky to know how much of it to believe.

  “Dame Walpurga of the Blessed Warts was not so wonderful, and winning the war made her horrible: she grew iron teeth and threatened to gobble me up. And Pluribella wasn’t at all fierce, especially after she was able to stop being the cross and bossy Powers-That-Be. And she didn’t have iron teeth. So you can’t believe everything you read.”

  “How wise,” said Miss Strega, bouncing off her broom at the Coven Garden entrance. “I’ll wait for you in the hall.”

  Jessica slid up the banisters and sneaked in past Shar Pintake. There was one thing she had to do before she returned the book.

  Behind the Zymurgy bookcase (Pluribella had told her Zymurgy was just a fancy name for Brewing) she scribbled a message in the margin of Vox Libris – just in case that silly lost witch-in-training should stumble on it. Just wave your wand and say: “Going, going, gone!” she wrote in tiny writing.

  Then she slipped it back on to the bookshelf and let herself out before Miss Shar Pintake even had time to draw in her breath.

  Miss Strega was standing beside a wooden signpost.

  “Follow me,” she announced, leading Jessica out to a high-walled garden. “I thought you might like to see Walpurga’s garden as it looks nowadays and, besides, I want to buy some well water. My customers are crazy about it.” Jessica was disappointed to find that the cottage where Dame Walpurga and Pluribella had made their peace was in ruins. Nothing remained of it but one ivy-covered wall. But there was a model of Walpurga sitting on a three-legged stool beside the well. And the gnarled hawthorn tree beside it was the very same one that Jessica had crashed into.

  However, the whole garden looked very odd. Both the tree and the well were hung with all sorts of odds and ends. Snippets of cloak, mini broomsticks, bird feathers, shoe buckles, scraps covered with Spells and Incantations. And when Jessica peered over the side of the well, she could see hundreds, maybe thousands, of coins lying at the bottom. There was a curious hush as out-of-town witches queued up to pat the big wart on the end of Walpurga’s nose, took photos of each other at the well and decanted the water into plastic bottles.

  “Why does everyone want Walpurga’s water? And what’s so special about that wart?” Jessica asked.

  Miss Strega stroked her chin. “I expect they have read Pluribella’s Memoirs. She wrote about how fantastic the water was and how drinking it could fix just about everything. So as time went by, visitors started coming from north, south, east and west to try it. Some of them want to get rid of their warts and lumps and funny bumps. Others drink it if they’re sad and they want to be happy like Walpurga was. Or they drink it if they want to be inventive, the way Walpurga was. And then they leave a snippet of cloak or a coin as a sort of thank you. And they touch the wart for good luck.”

  Jessica snorted. “But that’s rubbish. Dame Walpurga was just a very warty inventive witch. But she wasn’t sweet-tempered. And the well water is completely ordinary. It isn’t magic. Your Grandma Pluribella just made that up to be mischievous; she wanted to play a trick on all the Right-Way-Uppers who thought Walpurga was the bee’s knees. She probably made a fortune. Actually. . .” She paused and looked at Miss Strega’s long chin, at the glasses perched at the end of her very long nose. “. . .the more I think about it, you really are like your grandma, especially the way you like to play tricks. And the way you sell things that don’t really work.”

  “Moonrays and marrowbones, Jessica, keep your voice down. If anyone heard you! I have customers who will pay a princess’s inheritance for a mini-cauldron of this stuff.”

  She absent-mindedly patted the wart on Walpurga’s nose – it was very shiny from all the fingers that had rubbed it – and began to fill a large plastic bottle.

  “But there you are, Jessica, you young witches are all the same. You learn a bit of Spelling Backwards and you think you know it all.”

  “Gnilleps Sdrawkcab? Doog eltneg noom?” Jessica said casually. “Oh yes, I can do that. By the way, I saw you touching that wart for good luck. Ti t’now krow!”

  And to the surprise of all the hushed witches in the garden, Jessica and Miss Strega began to roar with laughter.

  If you enjoyed Broomstick Battles, check out these other great Witch-in-Training titles.

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  Also by the Author

  Flying Lessons

  Spelling Trouble

  Charming or What?

  Brewing Up

  Witch Switch

  Moonlight Mischief

  The Last Task

  Copyright

  First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Children’s Books 2004

  HarperCollins Children’s Books is a division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

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  Text © Maeve Friel 2004

  Illustrations © Nathan Reed 2004

  The author and illustrator assert the moral right to be identified as author and illustrator of the work.

  A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

  Source ISBN: 9780007185245

  Ebook Edition © DECEMBER 2013 ISBN: 9780007571857

  Version: 2014-01-06

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