Witches Incorporated
by Lynne Roberts
Copyright 2014 Lynne Roberts
ISBN 978-1-927241-12-7
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Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 1.
‘It’s not fair,’ said Sophie indignantly. ‘Why do we have to go and stay with some old aunt we’ve never even heard of? Why can’t we go with you?’
Jessica nodded in agreement. Their mother sighed.
‘We’ve been through all this before. I can’t take you with me because it’s not a holiday. It’s a work conference. It is bad luck that it happens to be in the school holidays, but that’s nothing to do with me. And yes, I do have to go.’ She frowned at Sophie who was bubbling over with objections.
‘I still don’t see why we couldn’t stay home by ourselves,’ muttered Sophie.
‘You are both far too young to be left alone, even though I know you would manage beautifully,’ their mother added hastily. ‘You should have fun with Aunt Hazel. She lives by the sea so you’ll be able to play on the beach.’
‘In winter?’ Sophie was outraged. ‘Beaches are no fun at all when it’s cold. You can’t swim or anything. And we don’t want to go and stay with Aunt Hazel, do we?’ she turned to Jessica for support.
‘I don’t like staying with strange people. Why can’t we go to Dad?’
Mrs Jenkins sighed again.
‘That would have been a good idea but unfortunately he’s going away with Jenny and Sam for a last holiday before the new baby is due.’
Both Sophie and Jessica scowled at this. Their father had left their mother and remarried some years before, but they still saw him regularly. They got on well with Jenny, his wife and her son Sam, who was the same age as Jessica. They hadn’t really expected to go on holiday with them but it seemed hard to be sent to someone they didn’t know.
‘What’s Aunt Hazel like?’ asked Jessica. Her mother smiled in relief at this beginning of a thaw in the situation.
‘I haven’t seen her for years, but we’ve kept in touch with cards every Christmas. As I told you before, she’s not really a proper aunt. She was a friend of my mother’s and we used to have fun staying at her place for holidays when we were young. Aunt Hazel always had a wonderful imagination and lots of ideas for games, not unlike you, Sophie.’
Sophie refused to be mollified.
‘I still don’t see why we have to go and stay with her,’ she grumbled, and kept this up for the next week, until her mother was at screaming point.
Sophie made a huge fuss when she was told to pack what she needed for a week’s holiday. She decided that she couldn’t leave anything behind in case she needed it.
‘What on earth do you think you are doing?’ her mother cried in exasperation as she saw the huge pile of clothing and toys which Sophie had heaped onto the bed.
‘You said we have to pack what we thought we would need,’ replied Sophie in injured tones.
‘I can’t imagine why you think you would need all this rubbish. It is only for a week. You have even put out your summer clothes,’ said Mrs Jenkins in exasperation.
‘It might be hot,’ said Sophie defensively, as her mother began to put things away, with a grim expression on her face.
‘I’ll pack your things myself. Now run along and play with Jessica.’
Jessica, in contrast, had packed nothing. She sat forlornly on her bed clutching her old battered teddy bear, which Sophie eyed rather scornfully.
‘I hope you are not taking that.’
‘Why not?’ said Jessica defiantly. ‘He’s mine and I’ve had him since I was little.’
‘You are far too old for teddy bears,’ said Sophie, and firmly placed the bear back on the bookshelf where it sat in a rather lopsided fashion. Jessica’s lips were inclined to tremble at this but she could see that Sophie was looking for any excuse for a blazing row so she kept her feelings to herself.
By the time the girls were installed on the bus with a bag each of essential clothing, their mother was relieved to see them go.
‘I’ll come down and collect you in a week’s time,’ she said cheerfully, trying not to worry about Jessica’s woebegone face and Sophie’s accusing stare.
Despite herself, Sophie enjoyed the journey. She and Jessica took turns to sit in the window seat, although Jessica soon caved in and let Sophie have it. Sophie had decided that whoever sat there had to make up stories about what they could see happening as they travelled past.
‘There’s a man on a motorbike. He’s probably robbed a bank and he’s fleeing with the money to give to his old mother who is on her deathbed.’ Her fertile imagination had no trouble in devising increasingly unlikely scenarios, while the best Jessica could do was to feebly point things out.
‘There’s a cow.’
‘Yes, but what sort of cow?’
‘I don’t know what sort of cow. It’s black and white.’
‘I mean, what is it doing?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Look at it properly. Is it practising jumping so it can try for the moon or is it going to break out of the paddock and go exploring?’
‘It’s just eating grass,’ said Jessica hopelessly, and gave up her seat in resignation as Sophie told her to make things more interesting before they both died of boredom.
Not that Sophie was ever likely to die of boredom. She was eighteen months older than Jessica and was born bossy. From the moment Jessica arrived in the world she had been organised and instructed by her elder sister, in whom she had implicit faith. She was sure that Sophie knew everything and was always right. Sophie had occasional misgivings about this as she knew that what she had was simply a lot of confidence. She was prepared to make something up rather than admit she didn’t know anything. Sophie accepted Jessica’s suggestions only when they suited her, but mostly dismissed them as being of no importance.
Fortunately the bus arrived at the small beach town where Aunt Hazel lived, before Sophie had run out of ideas for describing what she saw, and before Jessica had succumbed to bus sickness. A packet of strong peppermints helped with this, even though Sophie ate more than half of them.
‘But you don’t get bus sick, or even car sick,’ Jessica had protested.
‘There’s always a first time,’ said Sophie firmly. ‘Besides, if I eat the peppermints I’ll be even less likely to get sick. Anyway, it’s well known that it’s the smell of the peppermints that prevents bus sickness. I’ll breathe on you while I eat them and that way you’ll still get the benefit. It will be as good as if you’d eaten them yourself.’ Jessica looked as if she had objections to this but quailed under Sophie’s penetrating gaze and meekly handed the rest of the bag over.
The bus driver opened the hatch on the side of the bus and hauled their bags out for them. Sophie and Jessica each took a bag and watched as the bus drove off. To their surprise there was no one to meet them.
‘Where’s Aunt Hazel?’ asked Jessica.
‘She must be so busy she has forgotten the time,’ said Sophie briskly. ‘It’s a good thing we’ve got her address. We’d better walk there ourselves.’
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Sophie marched into the shop beside the bus stop. It was a small grocery store with a post office in one corner. This, with a pharmacy next door and a petrol station, made up the total shops of the town.
‘Excuse me, can you tell us how to get to Pohutukawa Cottage?’ she asked politely.
The elderly woman behind the counter smiled at them.
‘You’ll be wanting Hazel, then. I know she was expecting you. It’s not far. Go down Seaview Road by the petrol station. It’s the last house you come to before the road goes up the hill.’
Sophie thanked her and relayed these instructions to Jessica as they began walking.
‘I’m glad it’s not summer,’ remarked Jessica after a while. ‘I’m boiling.’
Despite the cold wind blowing in from the sea, the girls warmed up with the long walk. The road dipped and turned alongside the sandhills and quite suddenly it opened out to a small stony bay, where a straggly group of pohutukawa trees clung to the cliffs. A group of houses clustered together at one end while one sat apart from the rest. It was a grey, rather weather-beaten small house, built on a small hill overlooking the sea. The road continued on and up into the hills where it was lost to sight. Sophie and Jessica crunched up the shell path to the front door, which was standing half open. As Sophie lifted her hand to knock at the door, a scream of high-pitched cackling laughter rang out.