The Power of Poppy Pendle (20 page)

“Did you now?” PC Plunket thought hard for a moment, trying to see where the catch in this suggestion was. He frowned and scratched his spotty chin. “Very well,” he agreed at last. Then as an afterthought he added, “But you’ve got to hold on to my hand, because I’ll not have you running off again.”

“We’ll come too, if that’s all right with you, Constable?” Mr. Monroe said.

“Dad, there’s really no need.” Charlie smiled at her father and winked. “Everything’s under control.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The Return of Poppy Pendle

T
HERE SEEMED TO BE AN AWFUL LOT OF BIRDS THAT
were fluttering about town. The air was full of singing, and Charlie noticed that all the birds on the telephone wire were now hopping about in a delirious frenzy.

“You would think it was the first day of spring,” PC Plunket’s partner commented. His name was PC Nobs, and he kept staring about in bewilderment. “Something seems different,” he said in a puzzled tone, “but I can’t put my finger on it.” A cat darted out in front of them, chasing its tail in circles. Squirrels raced up and down trees, and a family of ducks flapped about the sky as if they couldn’t decide in which direction to fly.

Charlie, holding on to PC Plunket’s warm, sweaty hand, led the police officers straight to Marie Claire’s patisserie. She walked fast because it was embarrassing, holding hands with a policeman, and she didn’t want anyone to see her. “She’s in here?” PC Plunket said in disbelief. “You know, harboring a fugitive is a serious offense.”

“Oh no,” Charlie giggled, shaking back her frizzy mass of hair. “I just wanted to bring Marie Claire along with us. She’s a close friend of Poppy’s too.”

“We’ve been trying to get ahold of Ms. Marie Claire Gentille for questioning too,” PC Plunket remarked, banging on the glass door. He gave Charlie a suspicious look. “It seems you both know rather a lot about Poppy Pendle.”

Marie Claire was happy to accompany the police officers and Charlie. Especially when Charlie mouthed the word “Goose!” at her and scrunched up her face in what was clearly an expression of joy. Marie Claire even agreed to hold PC Plunket’s other hand. “What a beautiful day it is,” she declared, exchanging knowing smiles with Charlie. “The birds seem awfully cheerful.”

“That’s just what I was saying,” PC Nobs agreed eagerly. “I wonder what’s making them so noisy?”

“Well now, will you look at that,” PC Plunket exclaimed, coming to an abrupt stop as they reached the top of the canal path. Shining in the sun, all white enamel and polished chrome, was the oven. “Who would throw away a cooker like that?” he asked. “It looks like it’s in excellent condition.”

“Peculiar,” PC Nobs agreed, scratching at his head.

“It’s more than peculiar. It’s downright suspicious, and look at all this food,” PC Plunket remarked. “Bags of flour and sugar, bars of chocolate. Eggs.” He grimaced after stepping on a dozen. “I’ll get to the bottom of this later,” he said, wiping gooey yolk off the bottoms of his shoes. “I hope you know where you’re leading me, Miss Monroe, because we don’t have all day to waste marching about the countryside.”

“Right there,” Charlie said, pointing at the abandoned cottage. Except it didn’t look all that abandoned. Smoke was coming out of the chimney, and the yard appeared to be swarming with animals. A red-tailed fox was lying in the sun, and grazing beside it was a speckled roe deer. Rabbits and squirrels darted about in the long grass, and perched on all the tree branches were noisily singing birds. Even the canal was busier than usual as a family of ducks and two regal swans floated by.

“Are you sure Miss Pendle’s inside?” PC Plunket asked. “I believe this area’s been searched already.”

“Absolutely certain,” Charlie confirmed. “I saw her just yesterday.”

“Then I ask you all to stand back, please, because she’s armed and dangerous. This is a matter for the police.” PC Plunket clambered over the stone wall and stood with his shoulders pulled back, surveying the cottage. “Get down!” he suddenly yelled, grabbing for his truncheon as a rustling noise came from behind the holly bush. Out crawled PC Flower, looking dazed and slightly sick. He stood up and stumbled around, as if he’d just gotten off a spinning ride at the fair. “She’s in there. I’ve f-f-f-found her,” he stammered.

“Flower, are you all right?” PC Plunket called out. “What on earth is going on? Where have you been, man?” He glanced back at Charlie and Marie Claire as if they might have an answer, but the two of them simply shrugged.

“Wild, crazy eyes,” PC Flower wailed softly, picking a holly leaf out of his hair. “She’s insane. She’s t-t-t-t-t-terrifying. We need more reinforcements.”

And that’s when the front door was flung open, sending PC Flower scurrying back behind the holly bush with a panicked cry. “You’re under arrest,” PC Plunket shouted bravely, huddling down in the tall grass.

“I thought I heard voices,” Poppy Pendle called out, leaning against a broomstick. Her hair hung in two tidy braids, and her face had been scrubbed so clean it was as pink and polished as a rosy apple. Poppy’s eyes sparkled. “I was just making crepes in the fireplace if anyone would care to join me.”

“You’re under arrest,” PC Plunket repeated, scrambling up and marching toward the house. PC Nobs followed him. “We’re coming in.”

“Yes, please do,” Poppy said, waving at Charlie and Marie Claire. “Everyone’s invited. And I’m so sorry I scared you,” Poppy said, putting her hands on her knees and calling over to the holly bush. “I honestly didn’t know what I was doing. Please come out and have some crepes, won’t you?” PC Flower’s face appeared, looking more perplexed than ever. He gave a frantic shake of his head and darted quickly out of sight.

“Hand over the broomstick,” PC Plunket instructed, holding his truncheon aloft as he stepped inside the cottage. “And no funny business.”

“It doesn’t sweep very well, I’m afraid,” Poppy apologized. “But you’re welcome to have it. I only wanted to tidy up in here, but the bristles aren’t really designed for sweeping.”

“This will be held as evidence,” PC Plunket said, “and you no longer have a license to fly. Your learning permit has been canceled.”

“Really? That’s great.” Poppy looked pleased. “You mean I never have to get on a broomstick again?”

“Magic wand as well, please,” PC Plunket barked. “From this moment on you are not, under Yorkshire law, allowed to practice witchcraft.”

“Hurray!” Poppy shouted, tossing the spotty-faced policeman her magic wand. “What happens if someone tries to make me?” she added as an afterthought. “What if I’m given a new wand?”

“You are banned from the practice of magic forever,” PC Plunket said in his gravest voice.

“Yay! I’m free,” Poppy cried out, skipping over to Charlie and Marie Claire, who were wandering around the cottage in amazement. All the cans and Twirlie bar wrappers had been swept into a corner, and a small fire was burning in the hearth. On top of it rested a wide, flat stone, and beside the fireplace was a glass measuring jug of thick, creamy batter.

“Miss, are you Poppy Pendle?” PC Plunket seemed confused. “Poppy Pendle of Ten Pudding Lane?” He was opening and closing a pair of handcuffs as if he didn’t quite know what to do with them.

“Yes, that’s me,” Poppy answered.

“Then hold out your hands because you’re under arrest.” Just at that moment PC Plunket’s telephone started to ring, and he patted his pockets in a fluster, trying to find it. “PC Plunket speaking,” he said a little breathlessly. “Oh yes, sir, we have, sir. I’ll be bringing her in shortly. And we’ve recovered PC Flower, safe and sound. It appears he’s had some sort of nasty shock, but I can’t get much out of him. A nice hot bath and some chicken soup should do the trick.” There was a long pause on PC Plunket’s end while he listened at length to whatever the other person had to say. When he hung up, he looked even more confused. “That was Officer Kibble,” he announced. “It appears that PC Crud and PC Nuttle are no longer made of stone.”

“Fantastic!” Marie Claire and Charlie shrieked together, throwing themselves on Poppy.

“I knew you could do it,” Marie Claire whispered, squeezing both girls in a tight hug.

“What about the workers at Super Savers?” PC Nobs inquired. “The stock boy and the manager?”

“All back to normal. Although”—and here PC Plunket lowered his voice a notch—“it seems Mrs. Smegs, the manager’s wife, is not too happy about that. She told Officer Kibble she preferred her husband being stone. Much easier to take care of, apparently.”

“So you won’t be needing those,” Marie Claire said, pointing at the handcuffs that PC Plunket was still playing with. “I mean, you can’t arrest Poppy for a crime that doesn’t exist anymore.”

“Mmmm.” PC Plunket pondered this for a moment, and then he said gruffly, “There’s still the matter of stolen food.” He pulled out his notebook and flipped over a few pages. “Eighteen cans of mystery meat stew, twenty-four boxes of Twirlies, and thirty-two packets of Fudge Monkeys.”

“That was me, I’m afraid,” Poppy confessed. “And when you put it like that, I’m just horrified. Was it really thirty-two packets of Fudge Monkeys?”

“Thirty-two,” PC Plunket repeated, snapping his notebook closed.

“It appears all the evidence is over there,” PC Nobs added, nodding at the pile of rubbish Poppy had swept into the corner.

“Well, that is certainly a terrible crime I’ve committed,” Poppy agreed. “Anyone who eats twenty-four boxes of Twirlies and thirty-two packets of Fudge Monkeys should be locked up for life. I’ve no defense, I’m afraid, except to say I must have been out of my mind.”

“You were out of your mind,” Marie Claire defended stoutly, “but if you repay the store for the food you took, it is not a jail sentence.” She glared at PC Plunket.

“Oh, I’ll give it all back to Super Savers, every penny,” Poppy reassured him. “Only it might take me a while to get my bakery up and running.”

“You’re really going to start a bakery?” Charlie said, her cheeks flushing pink with excitement.

“If Marie Claire is serious about living here with me,” Poppy said, cutting a shy glance in her direction. “I can’t do this alone.”

“You don’t have to,” Marie Claire whispered, and her eyes glistened brightly with tears. “You don’t have to.”

“There is the small matter of Mr. and Mrs. Pendle,” PC Plunket mentioned, picking at one of his spots. “Poppy is a minor and she cannot leave home without their permission.”

“Then I will get it,” Marie Claire said boldly. “I shall sort this all out so everything is legal. Don’t you worry, Officer Plunket.”

“And what about school?” PC Plunket asked.

“Oh no,” Poppy groaned. “I can’t bear it. Just the thought of Ruthersfield makes me feel sick. I never want to go back there again.”

“You don’t have to,” PC Plunket informed her. “You’ve been expelled, I’m afraid. In fact, Ms. Roach has requested that you never set foot on the academy grounds again.

“Yaaaay!” Poppy and Charlie screamed, hugging each other and jumping up and down.

“Which still leaves the question of schooling. You are very much a minor, Miss Pendle, and some sort of education will be required.”

“Can I go to the elementary school with Charlie?” Poppy suggested. “I could bake in the afternoons and help out on weekends until I’m old enough to take over.”

“That seems like an excellent arrangement,” Marie Claire said, trying to hustle the policemen out of the cottage. “So is there anything left to discuss?”

“I do have one last question.” PC Plunket shuffled his boots about in embarrassment. “Will you be selling those chocolate cookies that melt in your mouth when you open your new bakery?” His face blushed tomato-sauce red. “I loved those cookies,” he sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. “You made them once at Patisserie Marie Claire.”

“I didn’t make them,” Marie Claire explained. “Poppy did, so you will have to ask her.”

“Thursdays,” Poppy said with a smile. “I shall make them every Thursday.” And PC Plunket looked delighted.

“Those were the best-tasting cookies I ever had,” he admitted. “They cheered me right up, even after Officer Kibble had been shouting his head off at all of us.” PC Plunket fiddled with his badge for a moment, then said, “If you ever want my mum’s brownie recipe, I’m sure she’d give it to you. They’re the fudgy kind. She makes them when it rains as a bit of a treat.”

“Oh, that would be lovely,” Poppy said. “There’s nothing nicer than a good squidgy brownie.”

Poppy asked if the policemen wanted to stay for crepes, but they said they had better be going. “More criminals to catch,” PC Plunket joked, winking at Poppy. “And I’d better get poor old PC Flower home.” He waved her magic wand in the air and said, “How do you use this thing, anyway?”

“You can’t unless you’re magic.”

“Won’t you miss it at all?” PC Plunket couldn’t help asking.

“Nope.” Poppy gave a decisive shake of her head. “Flying on a broomstick makes me feel sick, and I’d much rather make cookies than potions.” She gave PC Plunket the full benefit of her most dazzling smile. “This is the happiest day of my life so far,” Poppy told him. “And it’s only just begun.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

A Bit of a Stony Problem

T
HE LITTLE TERRACE HOUSE ON PUDDING LANE HAD
a sad, abandoned look about it. Weeds had overtaken the front garden, and the milkman obviously hadn’t been getting the message that no one was home. There were about thirty full milk bottles clustered around the doorstep. Marie Claire gave a brisk knock on the front door, but after she’d waited a while and knocked again, it was clear that no one was going to answer.

“Perhaps we should just leave,” Poppy said. “They obviously don’t want to see me. I’ve let them down, and they’re never going to forgive me.”

“Well, they’re in,” Marie Claire pointed out. “I can see them through the kitchen window. Poppy followed Marie Claire’s gaze and felt her knees go weak and start to buckle. That was just how she had left them.

“Please, let’s go,” Poppy pleaded, but it was too late. Nosy old Maxine from next door was trotting eagerly up the path. She had on bedroom slippers, a dressing gown, and her hair was full of rollers.