Witch in Winter Read online

  To Andrew

  PICKLES’ RULES OF CUSTOMER SERVICE

  1. BE FRIENDLY

  2. PRETEND THAT THE CUSTOMER IS ALWAYS RIGHT

  3. BE A GOOD LISTENER

  4. KEEP PEOPLE CHATTING

  5. BE SYMPATHETIC

  6. USE A SOOTHING TONE WITH THE TRICKY ONES

  7. ALWAYS BE HELPFUL

  8. STAY OPEN WHENEVER POSSIBLE

  9. ALWAYS HAVE A STORE OF HANDY HANKIES

  10. USE FLATTERY

  11. DRAW ATTENTION TO A BARGAIN

  12. NEVER SHOW SURPRISE

  13. NEVER SHORT CHANGE

  14. BE EFFICIENT

  15. USE THE HARD SELL ONLY AS A LAST RESORT

  16. ALWAYS HAVE CHANGE

  17. DISPLAY THINGS NICELY

  18. DO NOT GET INTO ARGUMENTS WITH CUSTOMERS

  19. NEVER SHOUT

  20. KEEP YOUR SENSE OF HUMOUR

  21. APOLOGIZE FOR BAD WEATHER EVEN THOUGH IT’S NOT YOUR FAULT

  22. HANDLE ALL GOODS CAREFULLY

  23. IF A CUSTOMER IS HOT, OFFER A COLD DRINK

  24. DON’T TALK ABOUT TICKLE DUST

  25. POLITENESS WORKS WONDERS

  MAGENTA SHARP’S THREE RULES OF WITCHCRAFT

  1. Read Instructions

  2. Follow Recipe

  3. Make It Work

  SOME THINGS YOU NEED TO KNOW BEFORE WE GET STARTED…

  1. Elsie Pickles is training to be a witch. She didn’t expect to. It just happened that way.

  2. Elsie lives in the country town of Smallbridge, where she helps her dad out in the family shop, called Pickles’ Emporium. The Pickles family live in the attic above the shop. They are: Elsie, her dad Albert, her mum Tilda, and her three little brothers – Arthy, Toby and baby Todd.

  3. Life was pretty ordinary for Elsie until she met Magenta Sharp (known locally as the Red Witch, because she wears red from head to toe). Magenta lives in a magical moving tower which is usually based in Crookfinger Forest – the wild wood that borders Smallbridge – and after their first meeting Elsie agreed to towersit while Magenta was away. Elsie loved life at the tower and even grew to love its grumpy resident raven, Corbett – so she always jumps at the chance to visit Magenta and learn more about magic.

  4. Elsie is now really good friends with two other residents of Crookfinger Forest: Joey the post boy (who has a magical floating basket named Bill to help with his post round) and Sylphine Greenmantle (whose real name is Aggie Wiggins and always dresses like a wood sprite).

  5. Elsie has a knack for magic. She can make it rain eggs – any kind – cooked or uncooked, including chocolate! She can conjure up small green frogs, which she sometimes dresses up, just for fun. She can brew a storm in a teacup. She can use a certain tone of voice to freeze people and creatures. She can even vanish in the blink of an eye and show up somewhere else! But she tries not to use magic too much because Smallbridge is an old-fashioned sort of place and not that comfortable with new things. (Although, a few months ago, the town was besieged by witches, so it’s not quite as stuffy as it once was.)

  But nothing much of interest has happened there for a while now. A marrow competition. Weeks of boring drizzle. A mislaid goat. Another week of drizzle. The goat is found, safe and sound. More drizzle. No, nothing exciting happens in Smallbridge . . .

  Until . . .

  IT SNOWS!

  Chapter One

  SNOW

  The snow began with a sudden blizzard that arrived in the night, sending the drizzle packing. It raced and raged from the frozen north, paused over Smallbridge and took an instant dislike to it. By the following morning, the whole town was snowed in. The river Dribble froze over. Huge, dangerous icicles hung from the lamp posts. The main street was waist-deep in white drifts. Towering banks of the stuff piled high against shop fronts and houses. Roofs groaned under the weight of it.

  Smallbridge didn’t know how to cope with snow. It didn’t happen often enough for the town to plan for it. There was an old spade kept in the mayor’s shed, together with a small toboggan and some bags of salt, none of which were any help at all, because as the snow fell, the shed was buried up to its roof.

  The town dealt with the blizzard by doing nothing. It was a massive personal inconvenience that was best to ignore. Stay indoors, bank up the fire and live off the contents of cans dredged up from the backs of cupboards. When the thaw came, they would wait for Carl from the council to deal with the slush. Only then, when conditions were tolerable, would they venture out. Finally, the drama would pass into legend and life would return to normal.

  But a week later, it was still snowing.

  All was still strangely silent in Smallbridge. It should have been market day, which usually meant a busy and bustling town, but the only sounds were the faint whisper of falling flakes and the rush and plop of mini avalanches slithering down roofs. Even Nuisance, the town’s stray dog, had abandoned his usual spot in the doorway of Pickles’ Emporium and found somewhere warmer to sleep.

  The snow lay so deep that the only way out of the houses was through upper windows using a ladder. That was much too adventurous for the people of Smallbridge. Why bother anyway? There was nowhere to go. They began to go stir-crazy. Losing their tempers and declaring that they hated their house, their granny and tinned kidney beans in prune juice.

  And still it snowed.

  Only Elsie Pickles didn’t stay in. She went out.

  Elsie was getting rather good at witchcraft – although she kept it quiet because she didn’t want to be gossiped about. Besides, her dad, Albert Pickles, liked her to concentrate on helping him in Pickles’ Emporium, the family shop. It sold dull but useful things. String. Buckets. Ugly ornaments. Drawing pins.

  Elsie quite liked working with her dad. He was very good at Customer Service and Elsie knew all the rules to follow to keep customers happy. (She found the rules came in handy for everyday life, too). But, oh dear, sometimes – well, a lot of the time – shopkeeping was boring.

  But witchcraft? That’s certainly not boring.

  And neither is snow, so Elsie didn’t want to miss it! Over the snowbound days, she went out quite often and didn’t even need to climb through the bedroom window. Elsie knew how to take a short cut.

  To witches, ‘taking a short cut’ means vanishing and popping up somewhere else. It’s easy, actually. You just think the secret word (never say it out loud of course, it’s secret), make a picture in your head of where you want to be and . . . there you are! Just like that. It doesn’t hurt or even tickle.

  Taking a short cut was particularly useful when your house was snowed in. Elsie wasn’t enjoying being cooped up in the attic. Her mum and dad were worried about the shop being shut and losing money, so they sighed a lot. Arthy, Toby and baby Todd were desperate to high-dive out of the window, which would not have been a good idea, so they weren’t allowed, and that made them noisily sad or madly boisterous. The only time they stopped playing up was when they were asleep, listening to stories or eating jam.

  At night, when the boys were asleep, Elsie would close the curtain between their bed and hers and do one of four things:

  1. Go to bed because it was cold.

  2. Sit at the window and watch snow falling in the dark.

  3. Light a candle and quietly practise spells.

  4. Take a short cut to the town library.

  The last was her favourite. She would curl up in the librarian’s chair and read adventure stories by candlelight until her fingers were too cold to turn the pages. The deserted library was the only place of interest that Smallbridge could offer on a freezing night.

  On the seventh night of snow, as the light began to fade, Elsie sat on the edge of her bed huddled up in shawls and decided to do a quiet b
it of magic practice.

  She had three solid little spells at her fingertips: the ones she learned on her first visit to Magenta Sharp’s magical tower. Eggs, frogs and storms in teacups. Elsie could conjure up lots of different eggs now – big, small, raw, cooked, brown, white – even chocolate! It was just a matter of various finger-waggles, usually combined with a short rhyme. Chocolate were the trickiest and made her thumbs ache.

  Her frogs were getting fancier, too. She could do sweet little green ones, middle-sized brown ones and big, grinning, sploshy ones. If she really concentrated, she could produce a whole froggy dance team wearing top hats and carrying tiny canes!

  On the other side of the curtain, her brothers were snoring. She lit the candle stub on the windowsill.

  Right, thought Elsie. Here goes. Easy stuff first.

  Wiggling her fingers and quietly mouthing the special words, she conjured up a small chocolate egg from the air, followed by a little green frog. This one wasn’t wearing a top hat or carrying a cane; in fact, it looked a bit lost and cold. Elsie magicked it up a tiny woolly hat, gave it the chocolate egg and sent it back wherever it came from. She wondered about going to the kitchen and getting a teacup to make a storm in. Then she worried that the thunder might wake everyone else up . . . but maybe she would risk it? She needed to keep her hand in. That’s what Magenta Sharp would say. Regular practice.

  It had been a while since Elsie had seen Magenta. Through all those dreary weeks of drizzle and missing goats, Elsie had hoped the Red Witch would get in touch. Magenta’s last business venture – a magic shop in Smallbridge, of all things – had come to a sudden, unexpected end (a long story, involving malfunctioning magical technology and some ‘help’ in the form of Sylphine Greenmantle, the worst shop assistant in the world). So now Magenta was settled back in Crookfinger Forest. She hadn’t sent word for weeks and Elsie didn’t quite have the courage to show up at the tower without an invitation.

  Maybe being patient is all part of the witch training, thought Elsie. I’ll just keep practising.

  She waggled her fingers, which felt numb with the cold. How could she warm them up? Blowing on them never seemed to help. What would be really useful would be a warming spell. Was there such a thing? She couldn’t remember one from any of the spell books she’d read. But there was nothing to say she couldn’t make up one of her own . . . after all, she had the ‘knack’ for magic and warm was just a case of mixing hot and cold, right?

  She looked at the candle on the windowsill. The flame provided heat, as well as light. There was her glass of water, so cold there were chips of ice in it. Hot and cold. Bind the two together with a little chant? Should work.

  She reached out her left hand and carefully took hold of the candle. In her right hand, she lifted the clinking glass. Then she wiggled her chilly thumbs and whispered:

  Hot and cold, cold and hot

  Come together, hit the spot

  The rhyme wasn’t that good – but was it good enough?

  The candle flame rose away from the wick and floated gracefully through the air across to the glass. It landed in the water and sank. The icy water gave a faint hiss and a brief gurgle, then settled down. Wisps of steam came from the glass.

  Yes! thought Elsie happily. I think I did it!

  She took the warm glass and wrapped her cold fingers around it, raised it to her lips and was just about to drink when she noticed something.

  Outside, night was falling . . .

  But the snow wasn’t! The clouds were gone. The sky was speckled with stars and a huge, pale moon swam into view.

  No more snow.

  Chapter Two

  A SURPRISE VISITOR

  Elsie couldn’t decide whether it was a good or a bad thing that the snow had stopped. It would be nice to be warm and eat fresh vegetables and to go for a walk and see people, but then what? Everything would go back to normal. And in no time, normal would become boring again.

  At that point, suddenly, something came hurtling out of the night! It collided with the glass, making her jump back with a gasp. What was this horrible thing that had landed on her windowsill and was staring in at her with beady little eyes?

  A harsh voice said: ‘Jackdaws and giblets, let me in! It’s perishing out here!’

  ‘Corbett!’ exclaimed Elsie, a delighted smile spreading across her face. ‘It’s you!’

  ‘Who did you expect, Santa? Hurry up, I can’t feel my claws.’

  Elsie opened the window with difficulty. Snow had built up on the sill. A small avalanche slithered over the ledge as it jerked open. Corbett hopped inside, furiously shaking off white flakes. Cold air filled the room, and Elsie hastily pulled the window shut.

  ‘That,’ he announced, ‘was horrible!’

  ‘Sssh, keep your voice down, the boys are asleep.’ Elsie patted the bed beside her. ‘Come and sit down. Here’s my shawl, make yourself a little nest. Shall I dry you off a bit? I’ve just made a hot drink, do you want some? Oh, it’s so good to see you!’

  ‘Stop fussing, I’m fine. Look, I’m not stopping. There’s no one at the tower!’

  ‘Why? Where’s Magenta?’

  ‘Gone. That’s why I’m here.’

  ‘What? How? Why? When?’

  ‘The day before the blizzard. She didn’t come down for breakfast. I thought she was sulking in her room.’

  ‘Had you two had an argument?’ asked Elsie. Magenta and Corbett’s relationship involved a lot of bickering. They both seemed to enjoy it.

  ‘Well, yes,’ confessed Corbett. ‘The night before she was complaining about my supper. Said it put her off hers.’

  ‘What was your supper?’

  ‘Worms.’

  ‘I expect hers was spaghetti, was it?’

  ‘How did you know?’ Corbett sounded astonished.

  ‘Just a guess. Was that all? A silly argument about food?’

  ‘Yes. But it got a bit heated. We were both a bit . . . mean to each other and in the end Magenta said I was the world’s worst bird to live with and stomped off to bed. I thought she was just being petty, but then she didn’t come down at all the next day, so I checked on her. I had terrible problems opening the bedroom door – big round knob, you know – nearly dislocated my beak. Finally got in, bed not slept in, no note, nothing.’

  ‘Has she done it before?’ asked Elsie. ‘Vanished in the night?’

  ‘Occasionally. But she always tells me or leaves a note. It’s one of the tower’s rules: When off you go, the bird shall know. It means the resident raven has to be informed of the witch’s whereabouts.’ Corbett shook his glossy head. ‘Something’s not right, Elsie. I wanted to come and get you before but I had to wait for the snow to stop. I’m taking a risk being here now because I’m not supposed to go very far. That’s another tower rule.’

  ‘I remember it,’ said Elsie. ‘Bad Luck Will Come to Stay Should the Raven Fly Away.’

  ‘That’s the one. I’ve got to get back. I’m worried the tower will go looking for a new owner.’

  ‘It won’t,’ said Elsie. She paused. ‘Will it?’

  ‘It could,’ said Corbett. ‘It’s a working tower, built for a single purpose – to provide a perfect home for anyone of a magical nature – usually a witch, although it doesn’t have to be. A raven always comes with it, all part of the package. If the witch and the raven are both away, it starts giving off sort of – empty vibes. I’ve been deserted! Why don’t you come and live in me? That sort of thing. Anyone could just walk in. A bad person could take it! And we’ll never see it again.’

  ‘I see. So that’s why Magenta wanted me to house-sit that first time. Although I wasn’t a witch then.’

  ‘Yes, you were. You just didn’t know it. Anyway, Elsie, we need to find Magenta. What if something bad has happened to her?’

  His voice cracked and he wiped his eyes with a wing. Elsie had never seen him like this. Customer Service Rule Five clicked in. Sympathy was clearly called for.

  ‘Hey,’ s
he said, poking him playfully on his feathery chest. ‘Stop that. What are you thinking the worst for? There’s probably a perfectly good explanation. I’ll come right away. I’ll just write a quick note to Mum and Dad and pack a few things, in case I need to stay a while. We’ll collect Nuisance on the way.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Corbett gave a little shiver. ‘Never thought I’d say it, but I miss her. It’s lonely on my own with the snow all around. No one’s come calling. Not even the Howler sisters.’

  ‘What about the post?’ asked Elsie. ‘Has Joey called in?’

  ‘No,’ said Corbett. ‘A carrier pigeon told me all postal deliveries have stopped until conditions improve. Come on, Elsie, let’s go. Let’s go now.’

  Nuisance’s ears pricked up at the snowy crunch of approaching footsteps. He had been curled up beneath a pile of old sacks in the bottom of the broken wheelbarrow he called home ever since the snow started. It wasn’t a bad choice. The sacks were smelly and scratched a bit – but then again, Nuisance was smelly and scratched a bit. At least they were warm, and the thick layer of snow on top provided good insulation. Conveniently, it was just along the alley from the Emporium, where Elsie lived. Kind, clever Elsie, who told him he was a good dog, brought him sausages and took him on exciting adventures.

  ‘Nuisance?’ came a voice. ‘Are you in there?’

  Yippee! It was Elsie!

  Funny. She didn’t usually arrive at night. Still . . .

  Nuisance poked his head out into the freezing air. His ears were pricked and his eyes were bright.

  Oh-ho. Perched on Elsie’s shoulder was that grouchy Corbett bird from the tower in the woods. That could only mean an adventure was about to happen!

  And look at that! The snow had stopped falling. That was new. And a big, yellow moon and stars! All new! Wow! What a great world!

  ‘Greetings, dog,’ said Corbett. ‘It’s been a while.’