The Power of Poppy Pendle (14 page)

“Hey, come back here,” the manager yelled, starting to chase
after the broomstick. He didn’t get very far, because Poppy turned him to stone
before whizzing through the automatic doors.

When she got back to the cottage, Poppy emptied out her loot onto the
floor. There were ten cans of Super Savers stew, twelve boxes of Twirlies, and sixteen
packets of Fudge Monkeys.

And so Poppy spent her days, sitting by the window, looking out over the
canal. She rarely washed or brushed her hair. Sometimes, in the middle of the night,
Poppy would jump into the canal for a quick swim. As soon as they heard her splashing
about, the fishes hid among the reeds; otherwise, they knew what would happen to them.
The bottom of the canal was already dotted with stone trout and pickerel. Occasionally,
on a day when the sun was shining and a warm breeze blew through the window, Poppy would
think about Charlie, but she quickly squashed these thoughts by turning a squirrel or a
robin into stone. Friends didn’t matter now. Nothing mattered. Her old life as
Poppy Pendle was over.

Chapter Seventeen

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Charlie and the Goose

C
HARLIE COULDN’T STOP THINKING ABOUT Poppy,
no matter how hard she tried. It had been a shock to discover that Poppy had disappeared again. After hanging around Ruthersfield without catching sight of her friend, Charlie came to the sad conclusion that Poppy had once more run away. Only this time she wasn’t at Marie Claire’s. Charlie had stopped by the patisserie after school one day to see if Poppy was there, and when Marie Claire heard the distressing news, she was beside herself with worry.

“I cannot believe that Poppy has run off again. I should never have let her go,” Marie Claire said.

“What else could you do?” Charlie said, trying to make Marie Claire feel better. “Her parents would probably have called the police.”

“I don’t know,
chérie
.” Marie Claire shrugged. “All I know is that after Poppy left, everything seems to have gone wrong. My breads don’t rise like they used to and my cakes and pastries taste flat.” Marie Claire wiped at a smudge on the counter. “Can you believe my landlord came by on Wednesday to tell me he would not be renewing my lease?” She looked at Charlie out of sad eyes. “It is as if the life has gone out of my bakery, and I blame myself. I really do. It’s all my fault. Poppy is meant to be here. She has baking in her blood. I knew that, Charlie, and I let them take her away.”

Walking slowly home from Marie Claire’s, Charlie wondered for the hundredth time what could possibly have happened to her friend. She had been by the Pendles’ house once already. The car was in the driveway, so obviously the Pendles hadn’t gone anywhere. She had even glimpsed Mr. and Mrs. Pendle through the kitchen window, but Charlie didn’t have the courage to go up and knock on the door. It was all so strange. As she walked past the pathway that led down to the canal, Charlie found herself wishing for a sign. Something that would help her find Poppy. She had been so lonely without her friend. And that’s when she came across the goose, its long, curved neck sticking out of a patch of ferns. Charlie crouched down and gently stroked the goose’s head. It had a rather surprised look on its stone face, which made Charlie smile. She tugged at the goose, but it was heavy. Too heavy for her to move, so she ran most of the way home and made her father return with his pickup truck. Charlie’s dad hauled the stone goose into the back and slowly drove it home.

“Where on earth did you find that?” Charlie’s mum asked as they lugged the goose into the back garden.

“Down by the canal path,” Charlie said. “Under some bushes, all covered in dirt. Look at his face. Isn’t he sweet? I’ve always wanted a goose for a pet.”

“I wonder who would throw such a thing away?” Mrs. Monroe mused, watching her daughter wipe the bird gently down with a damp towel. “Those sorts of garden ornaments are expensive.”

“It’s beautifully carved,” Charlie’s dad remarked, running a hand along the goose’s back. “Solid stone. Whoever made this was a true craftsman.”

“I can keep it, can’t I?” Charlie asked, and her parents exchanged a brief look. Both of them nodded. They were happy to see Charlie smiling again. She had been so miserable the past few days, and when her mother asked what the matter was, Charlie had just mumbled, “Friend trouble.”

Charlie spent all her free time with the goose. After school she would run straight home to see him. She liked to brush the leaves and dirt off his back and then sit down beside him to eat her snack. Charlie’s mum could see her chatting away to the stone bird as if they were having a conversation; which in actual fact they were. Although the goose couldn’t talk back, he was an excellent listener, and Charlie felt as if he could somehow understand her.

One afternoon it was raining hard and Charlie dashed out to cover the goose with an umbrella. The next day the temperature dropped and she wrapped him snuggly in a blanket.

“Should we be worried?” Mr. Monroe asked his wife, peering through the kitchen window at their daughter. “That goose seems to be her only friend.” He watched in concern as Charlie left half her oatmeal cookie on the ground in front of the stone goose. “She appears to be feeding him,” he remarked to his wife as Charlie skipped through the back door.

“I thought he might like something to eat,” she said. “Doesn’t he look hungry to you?”

“It’s a statue, sweetheart,” her father replied gently, but the next morning when Charlie came down for breakfast, the cookie was nowhere in sight. “He ate it!” Charlie shrieked, jumping up and down. “I knew he was hungry. He ate it and he took a little walk.”

“Did you move him?” Charlie’s mum asked her husband in a whisper, but Mr. Monroe shook his head and gave a puzzled shrug.

That night Charlie fed the goose again. This time she left him out a slice of her mother’s fruitcake, and in the morning the cake was gone and the goose had waddled across the grass and was standing under their apple tree. The ground was damp and there were webbed feet marks left in the wet earth. “I think he likes being sheltered from the wind,” Charlie said at the breakfast table. “He has a smile on his face now, Mum.”

“Well, I’m glad he enjoyed his fruitcake,” Mrs. Monroe murmured, not knowing quite what to make of it all.

“Hey, listen to this,” Charlie’s dad said, reading from the front page of the
Potts Bottom Gazette
. “‘A number of lifelike stone animals and birds have been cropping up all over town. No one knows quite where these creatures have come from, but there is talk of witchcraft being involved. It has been reported that a Mr. Darren Smegs, manager of the local Super Savers Market, was turned into stone last Wednesday evening, following a confrontation with a young girl on a broomstick. One of the cashiers has confirmed that the witch in question was wearing a Ruthersfield uniform. Mr. Smegs’s wife says she will use her husband as a garden ornament until he recovers. She was quoted as telling the
Gazette
that Mr. Smegs actually makes an impressive stone scarecrow and she’s seriously thinking of keeping him that way. A search for the young girl is in progress, and certain staff members at Ruthersfield Academy are helping police with their inquiries. It should also be noted that Police Constable Flower of the Potts Bottom Constabulary seems to have mysteriously disappeared. He was working on this case and was last seen sitting at his desk, eating a ham sandwich for lunch. Further investigations are underway. The
Gazette
has been informed that police are not releasing all information pertaining to this crime at the present moment, due to reasons of security.’”

“I’m late for school,” Charlie said, picking up her toast and racing for the door.

“You’ve half an hour before the bus comes,” Mrs. Monroe called after her, but Charlie didn’t hear. She was already running down the street and heading straight across town for the Pendles’ house.

Chapter Eighteen

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Garden of Stone

P
OPPY HAD TO BE THE GIRL ON THE BROOMSTICK.
Charlie felt sure of this. She also felt sure that her friend was in trouble. Gathering up her courage, Charlie marched down the Pendles’ garden path and knocked on their front door. There was no answer and Charlie knocked again. She could see Mr. and Mrs. Pendle standing in the kitchen just like last time. They weren’t moving at all, almost as if they didn’t want to be noticed. Charlie had a suspicion they knew she was outside, and had deliberately decided not to answer the door.

“You’ll not have much luck,” a woman said, leaning over the garden fence and looking inquisitively at Charlie. “I heard you knocking.”

“They won’t answer,” Charlie said in frustration.

“No.”

“But I can see them in the kitchen.”

“Are you a friend of Poppy’s?”

“Yes.” Charlie nodded. “Is she home, do you know?”

The woman studied Charlie for a moment, her lips pursed in disapproval. Then she said in a short, clipped voice, “I’m Maxine from next door. Stay there. I’ll be right over.” Charlie waited as Maxine trotted down her garden path and straight up the Pendles’.

“There’s something you should see,” she said, taking a key out of her apron pocket and opening the front door. “Follow me,” she instructed, eagerly leading Charlie down the hallway. Looking through to the kitchen, Charlie could see a gaping hole between two cupboards where the oven must have stood, and she felt a fresh burst of anger toward Poppy’s parents for doing something so mean. “Don’t touch,” Maxine ordered, escorting Charlie into the room. Whatever Charlie was about to discover, she had a strong suspicion that Maxine had shown it to plenty of others before her. “There!” Maxine announced dramatically, waving a hand at Mr. and Mrs. Pendle, who were still standing exactly where Poppy had left them.

“Oh!” Charlie exclaimed, covering her mouth in shock. “Oh,” she gasped again, feeling slightly sick. “Are they real?” Charlie said, giving a spontaneous shiver. This was not what she had been expecting.

“Depends what you mean by real, doesn’t it?” Maxine sniffed, wiping her nose on the edge of her apron. It was cold in the kitchen and the air smelled stale. “So you don’t know anything about this, then?”

“No, no, I had no idea.” Charlie shook her head in disbelief, holding on to the edge of the table for support.

“Poppy did that to them,” Maxine said frostily, although she couldn’t hide the ghoulish excitement in her eyes. “Turned her own parents to stone.”

“Are you sure it was Poppy?” Charlie questioned, knowing the answer but not quite believing it.

“Course I’m sure. You should have heard the yelling.” Maxine shuddered. “Even with my telly on, I could hear them going at it. Who knows what that girl was doing to make her mother so mad. Poppy was a handful all right. Bad influences leading her astray, Edith always reckoned”—and she gave Charlie a hard stare. “Anyway, I’m not surprised she went off the deep end. Poppy was always different, but to turn on your own parents like that. Sooner or later I imagine they’ll come out of it. . . .” Maxine’s voice trailed off and she shook her head slowly.

Charlie let go of the table and hesitated a moment before cautiously walking up to Mrs. Pendle.

“It’s the same stone as my goose,” she whispered, reaching out a hand and touching a cold, hard sleeve.

“What did you say?” Maxine pressed nosily. “I can’t hear you, and I said not to touch.”

“Nothing,” Charlie murmured, staring up at Mrs. Pendle’s distraught-looking face, which appeared to have been frozen in midchew.

“It’s Edith’s poor sister, Viv, I feel sorry for,” Maxine went on with relish. “She was the one to find them. Fainted dead away and hasn’t left her house since.” Maxine pulled her cardigan around her and lowered her voice as if someone was listening in. “I think she’s worried Poppy will get her next.”

Suddenly the kitchen felt stifling. “I have to go,” Charlie gasped, stumbling into the hallway. She had to have fresh air.

“Sure you don’t know anything about this?” Maxine questioned suspiciously, following after her.

“I’m sorry, I don’t, but I hope they’re okay,” Charlie said, glancing back at the Pendles.

“Well, if you find that friend of yours, you tell her she’s wanted by the police. You just can’t go around casting spells on innocent people,” Maxine said. “It’s a criminal offense that is, turning people, and especially your parents, to stone. She’ll be sent away to Scrubs when they find her. That’s what the police told me.”

“So you’ve spoken to them, have you?” Charlie said, feeling more and more anxious.

“Of course I have.” Maxine nodded eagerly. “Went right down to the police station with poor Viv after she’d discovered what Poppy had done. The police aren’t talking to the press about it yet, though,” Maxine said, sounding slightly disappointed. “Poppy being a minor, and all that. Viv and I have been sworn to secrecy. But they’re looking for that girl,” she continued. Lowering her voice, Maxine added, “Officer Kibble doesn’t want to scare the public either, you see. It might start a mass panic if people thought they were in danger from a crazed witch breaking into their homes.”