‘There are daffodils growing in that garden,’ she said in surprise.
Turpin looked at the flowers, uninterested. ‘So?’
Tanya pointed to a tree on the other side of the road. ‘So, that tree has plums growing on it. We’ve got a plum tree in our garden and it doesn’t get fruit until late summer. But daffodils are spring flowers. And look there – blackberries! They shouldn’t be out until September.’
‘Things are higgledy-piggledy here,’ said Turpin. ‘Is a topsy-turvy place where all the seasons are mixed up.’
‘That’s why witches and fey folk like it here,’ said Don, who had stopped in front of a little wooden gate. ‘They can always get their spell ingredients at any time of the year.’ He gestured to the gate. ‘This is the place.’
Tanya looked up at the house beyond the gate. It was extremely narrow, with only two windows that were squeezed in one on top of the other above the front door. ‘People actually live here?’ she asked. It seemed too small to be possible.
‘Nothing is what it seems,’ said Don. ‘Now ring the bell and let me do the talking.’ He lowered his voice. ‘And remember, don’t eat or drink anything they offer you – hide it if you have to, but don’t let a crumb pass your lips.’
Nervous, Tanya reached out and jangled the large, silver bell on the door. It was opened almost immediately by a tall, thin man whose cheekbones jutted from his cheeks. He had grey hair and was dressed in a tattered black suit, and would otherwise have been very nondescript were it not for the fact that he was both slightly see-through and hovered a few inches above ground level.
‘You rang?’ he inquired.
‘Er, yes,’ said Don. ‘Good morning. I mean, good evening.’ He looked at the sky in confusion. ‘I mean, oh . . . never mind. I’d like to see the ladies of the house, if I may.’
‘Certainly, sir,’ said the butler, who did not seem surprised in the slightest to be talking to a toad. ‘And whom should I say is calling?’
‘D-Donald.’ Don swallowed, visibly nervous. ‘Donald Hanratty. And this is Tanya . . .?’
‘Fairchild,’ Tanya put in.
The butler looked at Turpin expectantly.
‘Turpin,’ she announced. ‘The Terrible.’
‘Very good.’ The butler vanished, quite literally, leaving the three of them silent on the doorstep.
Tanya stared at the space where he had been standing. ‘Was that . . . I mean, is he a . . .?’
‘Ghost,’ Don finished. ‘Yes, poor chap. He’s been here for some years now. Had a heart attack on a train halfway between London and Birmingham and ended up in the wrong inbetween. Or maybe he didn’t like the one he was supposed to be in. Who knows?’
‘And you,’ said Tanya, raising an eyebrow at Turpin. ‘Turpin the Terrible?’
Turpin shrugged. ‘Made it up.’
Tanya peered into the gloomy hallway beyond the door. It stretched back into shadows, with nothing to see except for plain white walls and spotless chequered tiles. A moment passed, then a high-pitched shriek of excitement echoed from the depths of the house.
‘I told you the sisters get excited when they have visitors,’ Don said. His voice sounded strained all of a sudden.
‘How sure are you that they can turn you back?’ Tanya asked.
‘Fairly sure,’ he answered. His voice had thinned out to a croak once more. ‘Just don’t leave without me.’
Tanya frowned. ‘Why would we—?’
She never got to finish the sentence for the ghostly butler reappeared just then, beckoning to them.
‘This way, please,’ he said grandly, sweeping through the hallway. Tanya and Turpin followed, with Don’s hops behind them sounding like wet slaps on the tiles. Two high-pitched voices having some kind of heated conversation drifted to them in snatches, but Tanya was unable to make out any specific words. They were shown to an imposing, black door at the end of the hall, beyond which the voices were rising to screeches.
‘Where are they? Where are they?’ The voice was like fingernails clawing a blackboard. ‘I know you’ve hidden them, you sneaky old stoat! Where are my pearls?’
A second voice cackled. ‘You think pearls will make a difference with a face like that?’
The butler cleared his throat. The two voices hushed immediately, then one called out in a sugary but scratchy tone:
‘Come in!’
The butler stood aside. As Tanya pushed the door open, she felt a rush of cold air as she passed him, and got the distinct feeling that, if she tried to walk through him, she would be able to. The door swung back to reveal a busy, brightly-lit room. There was something peculiar about it, but Tanya could not take it in straight away for, despite Don’s warnings not to stare, her eyes became fixed on the two figures who stood at the centre.
Though Don had described them as sisters, there was very little about them that was recognisable as female. Nor, Tanya thought, did they look much alike. The one standing nearest wore what looked like a wig, piled high in black ringlets that were like fat little sausages. What at first looked like streaks of grey were actually cobwebs, and there were things crawling and jumping within the curls. Fleas, Tanya realised with a barely suppressed shiver. The woman wore a sickly lavender dress that could once have been a ballgown, but now it was faded and stained and full of holes. However, her most disturbing feature was her face. Her nose was a wet, pink pig’s snout and, below it, a coarse, black beard which had been woven into a neat plait dangled almost to her waist and was secured by a purple bow.
The other sister had not fared much better in the looks department. She wore a similarly hideous dress in faded yellow and her hair was a matted, mustard-coloured mess in which things also nested – only this time it wasn’t fleas. It was mice. She had a large, quivering grey nose like that of a cow or a bull, complete with a silver ring through it. She too had a beard: long, orange and parted in the middle and thrown back over her shoulders.
Tanya’s eyes darted from one to the other. According to Don, this was what they had done to each other. No wonder they’d had to come to an inbetween, she thought. There was no way they would be able to lead normal lives in the real world.
The sisters stared back at her with expressions of delight. The pig-snouted sister was the first to speak. ‘A girl! A girl has come to see us, Gretchen. How lovely!’ She lifted an eyeglass hanging around her neck and peered through it first at Turpin, then at Don, then at the door they had just come through. ‘But where is Donald?’ she asked anxiously.
‘He’s . . . er—’ Tanya began, then looked sideways at the toad.
‘Yes, where?’ Gretchen squawked. ‘Where?’
‘I’m here, my dears,’ Don announced. ‘Down here.’
The sisters gaped at the toad, their faces frozen in horror.
‘Gretchen,’ Don continued politely. ‘Griselda. It’s so lovely to see you again.’
18
The Bearded Sisters
GRISELDA TOOK A TINY STEP FORWARD, her snout twitching. ‘Donald?’ she said in a faint voice. ‘My Donald? Is that really you?’
‘What do you mean, your Donald?’ Gretchen said sharply. ‘He’s not your Donald and never was!’
‘Now, ladies . . .’ Don began.
‘Oh, no . . .’ Tanya looked at Turpin, beginning to understand. ‘When he said they’d both fallen in love with the same man . . . it was him, wasn’t it? They did all . . . all that to each other because of Don?’
Turpin nodded, her face glum. ‘They say love. Turpin says madness.’
‘Maybe there’s not much difference,’ Tanya murmured.
Griselda knelt down before Don. ‘It is, Gretchen,’ she said in a wobbly voice. ‘It’s him! Come and look at the eyes. It’s all in the eyes!’
Gretchen hurried to her sister’s side and bent down to inspect the toad. ‘Oh!’ she wailed. ‘Oh, Griselda, you’re quite right – I’d recognise those dreamy sapphires anywhere!’
‘Dreamy sapphires?’ Tanya whispe
red. Turpin made a gagging noise.
Griselda scooped up the toad, pressing him against her ample chest, and whisked him away to the back of the room. Gretchen ran after her, protesting. ‘Put him down! You’ll smother him with those things!’
Tanya and Turpin followed them. There were cauldrons of various sizes everywhere; some stacked in piles and others bubbling up sweet or noxious fumes. Books lined the walls, most of them large and grand and very old-looking, and there were strange objects dotted about; things that looked like instruments from the science laboratory at school. At the back, where the sisters had taken Don, shelves were crammed with jars of weird and sinister-looking ingredients. As they drew closer, Tanya saw one grisly jar marked FLIGHT that was half full of small, glittering wings of all colours and sizes. Some looked like they were from butterflies or bugs; others were similar to ones she had seen on fairies. At the bottom of the jar several smaller insects such as flies and ladybirds lay motionless and belly up.
Tanya moved on, skimming labels and contents, unable to take everything in. ‘Bad girls’ curls,’ she read. ‘Bog beans. Cornish brownie. Dragon’s drool . . . madman’s beard, poison ivy, skunk spray. Warts – assorted sizes.’ She paused, going back to the Cornish brownie. The red-faced creature in the jar was banging the sides of the glass with his fists. An extra label smeared with something dark had been hastily stuck on at the bottom: WARNING! BITES! As she stepped away from the shelves, she finally realised what else was strange about the room. It was perfectly round, with the ceiling sloping up into a domed shape like the inside of a witch’s hat.
‘That doesn’t make sense,’ she said, nudging Turpin who had clambered up on the shelves and was pulling faces at the brownie. ‘Look at this room. Not only is it huge, but it’s round. There’s no way all this would fit in that tiny, cramped house we saw from the outside.’
‘The outside is just an illusion,’ said Turpin. ‘Sometimes people who should not be here get into the inbetween by accident. Things are disguised to look normal. As normal as they can anyway.’ She leaped off the shelf and landed neatly on a nearby table, where Griselda had placed Don. Both sisters had pulled up stools and were gazing into his eyes.
‘. . . And so,’ Don was saying, ‘I really need to get back to my proper form. I’m no use to Henry like this and time is running out. And you two marvellous magic makers are my best chance of help.’
Griselda wiped a tear from her snout and sniffed. ‘It’s an outrage,’ she said at last. ‘Turning a beautiful creature into this!’
‘An outrage,’ Gretchen agreed.
Don looked up at them hopefully. ‘So, do you think you can undo it?’
Griselda scoffed. ‘Do we think we can undo it? Of course we can! It’s just a matter of figuring out the right way. We shall have to consult the books.’
‘I’ve got an idea,’ Gretchen announced. Without warning, she grabbed Don and planted a huge kiss on his wide mouth.
‘Gretchen!’ Griselda screeched, snatching Don out of her sister’s hands. ‘You filthy sneak! You shameless floozy! You know that old wives’ tale doesn’t work! It’s any excuse with you, isn’t it?’
Gretchen licked her lips, looking pleased with herself. ‘It was worth a try.’
‘I thought it had to be a princess who could turn a toad back with a kiss,’ said Tanya.
Griselda waved a hand dismissively, still glaring at her sister. ‘Another myth. And anyway that’s for frogs. But it does have to be true love, which is why I should try it!’ She seized poor Don and pressed her lips against his, hard.
‘You cheat!’ Gretchen yelped. She jumped up so suddenly that one of the mice fell out of her hair and ran off across the table. She ignored it, batting Griselda’s hands to force her to put Don down. ‘Your love is no truer than mine! You just wanted to kiss him!’
‘Well, so did you!’ Griselda snapped.
Needless to say, it hadn’t worked. Poor Don was still very much a toad, only now he was breathless and half smothered and looked plain terrified. Tanya shot him a sympathetic look and a worried one at Turpin. It was quite clear that when it came to Don – no matter what form he took – the sisters were completely crazed.
‘So, what could we try next?’ Tanya asked. ‘If the kiss didn’t work?’
‘Lots of things.’ Griselda scratched her head, showering the table with fleas. ‘We need to have a good think.’ She glanced at her sister slyly. ‘Gretchen, dear? Would you make some tea?’
‘Why do I always have to make the tea?’ Gretchen snapped. ‘I’m not your servant! That’s what Charles is for!’
Griselda cleared her throat pointedly, stopping Gretchen’s rant mid-flow.
‘I— Oh.’ Her voice softened. ‘Well, I suppose I could do it this once.’ She grinned at her sister, evidently catching on to whatever unspoken message was being relayed between them. ‘Don always preferred my tea anyway,’ she muttered. She shuffled away to a little fireplace, over which a black kettle was hanging. With a click of her fingers, flames burst into life in the grate. Tanya watched her carefully as she set about fetching cups and saucers and collecting various pots and jars from the nearby shelves. Whatever concoction Gretchen was brewing, it certainly wasn’t ordinary tea. She guessed that Don’s suspicions were correct and that this would be something magical designed to keep them here. She would just have to find a way to get rid of it without the sisters seeing.
She turned back to the table. Griselda was peering through her eyeglass at a book, muttering to herself as she turned the pages. Don sat on the table before her, looking sorry for himself.
‘It could just take something as simple as a Revelation spell,’ Griselda said eventually. She clicked her fingers at Turpin. ‘Fetch me the following ingredients: a baby’s first cry; deer’s eyes; dragon scales; a good boy’s tooth; a twist of rainbow; a wishbone from a stewed chicken.’
Turpin stared at her insolently. It was clear she did not like taking orders.
‘Well, what are you waiting for?’ Griselda snapped. ‘Do you want him turned back or not? Everything’s in alphabetical order on the shelves and there’s a ladder if you can’t reach; it’s not difficult!’
Turpin set off grumbling, as Griselda continued to read through the spell. ‘You, girl,’ she said to Tanya. ‘Bring me that wooden bowl. And that magnifying glass hanging up over there. The silver scales, too.’
Tanya duly set about doing as she was told.
‘Oh, Griselda,’ Gretchen called from over by the fireplace. ‘Could you come here a moment, dearest?’
‘Can’t you see I’m busy?’ Griselda growled, plucking the stopper from the first bottle that Turpin had collected. At first glance, the bottle appeared to hold nothing, but as she tilted it over the wooden bowl a shimmering silver substance trickled out and the room was suddenly alive with the sound of a baby crying.
‘I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important!’ Gretchen trilled.
Griselda slammed down her eyeglass and stalked over to her sister. Out of the corner of her eye Tanya noticed Gretchen glance at Don before she pulled her sister closer and began to whisper. There was something decidedly underhand about it all. Tanya moved closer, hoping to catch the gist of whatever it was they were saying, but before she was even past the table Griselda turned round with a sickly-sweet smile.
‘What are you looking for?’
‘The scales,’ Tanya said stupidly, pointing to a brass set over by the fire.
‘I said the silver ones, my dear. They’re over there, near the table.’
Tanya slunk away in defeat, with no choice but to let the sisters go back to their huddling. She collected the scales and stood by the table, pretending to polish them with her sleeve, while waiting for Turpin. Eventually, the fairy returned with two more jars of disgusting ingredients: one full of teeth and the other glistening with fat, round eyeballs. Don hopped closer, inspecting the jars in disgust, and covering his ears to drown out the sound of the baby crying, which was still goi
ng strong.
‘Turpin,’ Tanya whispered. ‘They’re up to something – something to do with Don. I just tried to listen in, but they were on to me. Can you get close enough to hear what they’re talking about?’
‘Tricksy pair,’ said Turpin, her eyes narrowing to slits. She nodded. ‘Well, Turpin can be just as tricksy.’ She watched the sisters out of the corner of her eye. ‘If you create a distraction, I can get close. Very close. Wait for my signal.’
Tanya nodded, moving away from the table to collect the magnifying glass. She spotted a silver tray nearby and picked that up, too, watching Turpin closely. The fairy browsed the shelves, scratching her chin convincingly, all the while creeping closer. When she had reached the end of the shelves of ingredients, she turned and gave Tanya a small nod.
Tanya dropped the tray. It landed on the floor with a loud clatter, making the two sisters jump and causing the baby’s cry to escalate into even louder wails.
‘Sorry,’ she called, bending down to pick it up. When she stood up again, Turpin had vanished.
‘Did she make it?’ Don whispered.
‘Yes,’ Tanya whispered back, catching sight of the fairy.
‘She’s right next to them, hiding behind a cauldron.’
‘What do you suppose they could be plotting?’ Don asked.
‘I don’t know, but I think you’re right about them wanting to keep us here a little longer. Whatever it is, Turpin is bound to hear them.’
It was not long before Turpin skulked back to the table, unseen by the sisters who were still deep in conversation. As she approached, Tanya detected a look of worry in her eyes.
‘What is it?’ she said in a low voice. ‘What are they whispering about?’
‘Don,’ Turpin replied. ‘Gretchen says they should make the spell go wrong on purpose, so he stays as a toad.’