The Witches

BRUNO JENKINS DISAPPEARS

The Grand High Witch was starting to talk again. ‘I am now going to prrrove to you,’ she said, ‘that this rrrecipe is vurrrking to perrrfection. You understand, of course, that you can set the alarm clock to go off at any time you like. It does not have to be nine o’clock. So yesterday I am personally prrree-paring a small qvantity of the magic formula in order to give to you a public demonstration. But I am making vun small change in the rrrecipe. Before I am rrroasting the alarm clock, I am setting it to go off, not at nine o’clock the next morning, but at half-past thrrree the next afternoon. Vhich means half-past thrrree this afternoon. And that,’ she said, glancing at her wrist-watch, ‘is in prrreecisely seven minutes’ time!’

The audience of witches was listening intently, sensing that something dramatic was about to happen.

‘So vot am I doing yesterday vith this magic liqvid?’ asked The Grand High Witch. ‘I vill tell you vot I am doing. I am putting vun drrroplet of it into a very sqvishy chocolate bar and I am giving this bar to a rrree-pulsive smelly little boy who is hanging rrround the lobby of the hotel.’

The Grand High Witch paused. The audience remained silent, waiting for her to go on.

‘I votched this rrree-pulsive little brrrute gobbling up the sqvishy bar of chocolate and vhen he had finished, I said to him, “Vos that good?” He said it vos great. So I said to him, “Vould you like some more?” And he said, “Yes.” So I said, “I vill give you six more chocolate bars like that if you vill meet me in the Ballroom of this hotel at tventy-five-past thrrree tomorrow afternoon.” “Six bars!” cried this greedy little svine. “I’ll be there! You bet I’ll be there!”

‘So the stage is set!’ shouted The Grand High Witch. ‘The prrroof of the pudding is about to begin! Do not forget that before I am rrroasting the alarm clock yesterday, I am setting it for half-past thrrree today. It is now –’ she glanced again at her watch – ‘it is now exactly tventy-five minutes past thrrree and the nasty little stinker who vill be turning into a mouse in five minutes’ time should at this very moment be standing outside the doors!’

And by gum, she was absolutely right. The boy, whoever he might be, was already rattling the door-handle and banging on the doors with his fist.

‘Qvick!’ shrieked The Grand High Witch. ‘Put on your vigs! Put on your gloves! Put on your shoes!’

There was a great rustle and bustle of putting on wigs and gloves and shoes, and I saw The Grand High Witch herself reach for her face mask and put it on over that revolting face of hers. It was astonishing how that mask transformed her. All of a sudden she became once again a rather pretty young lady.

‘LET ME IN!’ came the boy’s voice from behind the doors. ‘Where are those chocolate bars you promised me? I’M HERE TO COLLECT! DISH THEM OUT!’

‘He is not only smelly, he is also grrreedy,’ said The Grand High Witch. ‘Rrree-moof the chains from the doors and let him come in.’ The extraordinary thing about the mask was that its lips moved quite naturally when she spoke. You really couldn’t see it was a mask at all.

One of the witches leapt to her feet and unfastened the chains. She opened the two huge doors. Then I heard her saying, ‘Why hello, little man. How lovely to see you. You have come for your chocolate bars, have you not? They are all ready for you. Do come in.’

A small boy wearing a white T-shirt and grey shorts and gymshoes entered the room. I recognized him at once. He was called Bruno Jenkins and he was staying in the hotel with his parents. I didn’t care for him. He was one of those boys who is always eating something whenever you meet him. Meet him in the hotel lobby and he is stuffing sponge cake into his mouth. Pass him in the corridor and he is fishing potato crisps out of a bag by the fistful. Catch sight of him in the hotel garden and he is wolfing a Dairy Milk Bar and has two more sticking out of his trouser pocket. What’s more, Bruno never stopped boasting about how his father made more money than my father and that they owned three cars. But worse than that, yesterday morning I had found him kneeling on the flagstones of the hotel terrace with a magnifying glass in his hand. There was a column of ants marching across one of the flagstones and Bruno Jenkins was focusing the sun through his magnifying glass and roasting the ants one by one. ‘I like watching them burn,’ he said. ‘That’s horrible!’ I cried. ‘Stop doing it!’ ‘Let’s see you stop me,’ he said. At that point I had pushed him with all my might and he had crashed sideways on to the flagstones. His magnifying glass had splintered into many pieces and he had leapt up shrieking, ‘My father is going to get you for this!’ Then he had run off, presumably to find his wealthy dad. That was the last time I had seen Bruno Jenkins until now. I doubted very much that he was about to be turned into a mouse, although I must confess that I was secretly hoping it might happen. Either way, I didn’t envy him being up there in front of all those witches.

‘Darling boy,’ cooed The Grand High Witch from up on the platform. ‘I have your chocolates all rrready for you. Do come up here firrrst and say hello to all these lovely ladies.’ Her voice was quite different now. It was soft and gentle and absolutely dripping with syrup.

Bruno was looking a bit bewildered, but he allowed himself to be led up on to the platform, where he stood beside The Grand High Witch and said, ‘OK, where are my six bars of chocolate?’

I saw the witch who had let him in quietly putting the chain back on the door handles. Bruno didn’t notice this. He was too busy asking for his chocolate.

‘The time is now vun minute before half-past thrrree!’ announced The Grand High Witch.

‘What the heck’s going on?’ Bruno asked. He wasn’t frightened, but he wasn’t looking exactly comfortable either. ‘What is this?’ he said. ‘GIMME MY CHOCOLATE!’

‘Thirty seconds to go!’ cried The Grand High Witch, gripping Bruno by the arm. Bruno shook himself clear and stared at her. She stared back at him, smiling with the lips of her mask. Every witch in the audience was staring at Bruno.

‘Tventy seconds!’ cried The Grand High Witch.

‘GIMME THE CHOCOLATE!’

shouted Bruno, becoming suddenly suspicious.

‘Fifteen seconds!’ cried The Grand High Witch.

‘WILL ONE OF YOU CRAZY PUNKS KINDLY TELL ME WHAT ALL THIS IS ABOUT?’ shouted Bruno.

‘Ten seconds!’ cried The Grand High Witch. ‘Nine … eight … seven … six … five … four … thrrree … two … vun … zero! Vee have ignition!’

I could have sworn I heard an alarm clock ringing. I saw Bruno jump. He jumped as though someone had stuck a hatpin deep into his bottom and he yelled ‘OW!’ He jumped so high that he landed on a small table up there on the stage, and he started hopping about on the top of this table, waving his arms and yelling his head off. Then suddenly he became silent. His whole body stiffened.

‘The alarm has gone off!’ shrieked The Grand High Witch. ‘The Mouse-Maker is beginning to vurrrk!’ She started hopping about on the platform and clapping her gloved hands together and then she shouted out,

‘This smelly brrrat, this filthy scum

This horrid little louse

Vill very very soon become

A lovely little MOUSE!’

Bruno was getting smaller by the second. I could see him shrinking …

Now his clothes seemed to be disappearing and brown fur was growing all over his body …

Suddenly he had a tail …

And then he had whiskers …

Now he had four feet …

It was all happening so quickly …

It was a matter of seconds only …

And all at once he wasn’t there any more …

A small brown mouse was running around on the tabletop …

‘Bravo!’ yelled the audience. ‘She’s done it! It works! It’s fantastic! It’s colossal! It’s the greatest yet! You are a miracle, O Brainy One!’ They were all standing up and clapping and cheering and The Grand High Witch produced a mousetrap from the folds of her dress and started to set it.

Oh no! I thought. I don’t want to see this! Bruno Jenkins may have been a bit of a stinker but I’m dashed if I want to watch him having his head chopped off!

‘Vhere is he?’ snapped The Grand High Witch, searching the platform. ‘Vhere has that mouse got to?’

She couldn’t find him. Clever Bruno must have jumped down off the table and scampered off into some corner or even down a small hole. Thank heavens for that.

‘It matters not!’ shouted The Grand High Witch. ‘Silence and sit down!’