The Worst Witch All at Sea (9 page)

Miss Cackle and Miss Hardbroom led the way up the steps into the castle and Form Two followed meekly behind, leaving wet footprints where they trooped along. The doors swung silently closed behind them, shutting out almost all the light except for a dim lantern hanging on the wall every few yards or so.

They made a curious sight, walking in single file with their broomsticks and bags hovering along behind them, and the disgruntled cats miaowing crossly from the depths of the baskets. The dim lanterns threw huge shadows up the walls as they passed by.

Mr Rowan-Webb led them into a huge stone hall very like the one at Miss Cackle’s Academy only more sparsely furnished and much more draughty. There was a fireplace the size of an ice-cream van, but sadly no fire.

‘Do sit down, ladies,’ said Mr Rowan-Webb, indicating several faded sofas and chairs, most of them with the springs and stuffing hanging out. ‘You must be worn out after all that flying.’

Miss Hardbroom turned to the pupils, who were standing in a soggy huddle, unsure whether ‘ladies’ referred to them as well as Miss Hardbroom and their headmistress.

‘You may sit down, girls,’ said Miss Hardbroom. ‘Tell your broomsticks to stand at ease.’

‘So sorry about the weather,’ apologized Mr Rowan-Webb. ‘It’s usually quite pleasant at this time of year. Anyway, there’s a nice fire to warm you all up until I show you to your rooms.’

Everyone looked pointedly at the empty grate.

Mr Rowan-Webb looked too.

‘Dear me!’ he exclaimed. ‘Do forgive me, ladies. I really am so absentminded these days.’

He muttered the words of a spell, waved his arms at the fireplace, and with a
whoosh!
a glorious log fire appeared, banked several feet high and throwing out such a fierce heat that those nearest had to back away.

‘Now then, where was I?’ said Mr Rowan-Webb. ‘Oh yes – rooms. I’ve given you three rooms in the west wing. One small room each for you, Miss Cackle, and you, Miss Hardbroom, and a large dormitory for all

the girls. The girls’ dormitory only has camp-beds and cushions and sleeping-bags – rather a rag-bag of bedding, I’m afraid. There are only two proper guest rooms with brass bedsteads, and naturally those are for the teachers. Never mind, it’s all fun on holiday, isn’t it?’

‘I shan’t be here during the week, though I shall come back on the last day. I’m still visiting various friends and relations whom I haven’t seen for decades, since my awful incarceration in the Academy pond, and I promised Aunt Ethelburga a few days of my time.

‘Now then, what else do I have to tell you – oh yes, there is a boat in the cove, but I think it’s best not to take her out, as there are rather a lot of rocks round and about. Any questions before you set off to unpack your things?’

No one dared to speak.

‘Come along now, girls,’ said Miss Cackle cheerily. ‘Don’t be shy. There must be something you’d like to know.’

Enid put up her hand.

‘I was wondering, Mr Rowan-Webb,’ she said, ‘if there are any legends or stories about caves or smugglers around the castle and cove.’

‘There’s only one tale
I’ve
ever heard,’ said Mr Rowan-Webb. ‘There’s a strange rock shaped like a cat’s head, out to sea directly in front of the cove. A local tale tells how a sailor was once shipwrecked and struggled

to the rock in raging seas, holding on to a chest full of gold and silver coins and jewellery. He crammed the chest into a crevice in the rock and swam to the shore when the sea had calmed. But when he went back by boat with friends to collect the chest, he couldn’t find it. Legend says that it is still there somewhere on Cat’s Head Rock. I must say it would be rather handy to find it, as the rock belongs to me and I could do with the money for a few repairs to the castle! It’s so difficult to get to it by boat, what with the currents and rocks, that no one has ever really bothered to investigate, especially as it probably isn’t a true story anyway. Any other questions?’

No one else spoke.

‘Right,’ said Mr Rowan-Webb. ‘If you’ve all warmed up a bit, allow me to show you to your rooms.’

he dormitory was even more depressing than the castle and the coastline. Form Two stood and looked around in horror after they had been left to unpack.

There was a row of glassless windows at either end, which made the room like a wind-tunnel. Enough beds for all the pupils lined the other two walls, but they were, as the magician had said, a rather poor assembly of camp-beds, heaps of cushions, moth-eaten foam rubber and ancient cardboard-stiff blankets. The beds nearest to the windows were wet from the rain, which sprayed and dripped its way in.

Ethel dived for the only proper bed with a mattress, in the centre of one of the rows, and plonked her bags and broomstick on top.

‘Bags I this one!’ she announced. ‘What a dump! Thanks for the holiday, Mildred Hubble. It’s going to be a laugh a minute. At least the Academy will seem like a
real
holiday camp after a week in this place.’

Mildred didn’t reply, as the entire Form was now scrambling for the best selection of beds.

‘Come on, Mil!’ called Enid, diving on to what looked like an old hospital trolley. ‘There’s a camp-bed next to mine with two blankets on!’