'Hello, Crystal,' she beamed brightly, 'Had a nice day at school?'
The voice was familiar, but the face looked like Kim Bassinger. I used to wonder what the neighbours thought of mom's ever-changing appearance, until I heard one of them telling another that Mrs Ball did wonders with make-up and wigs; 'Never looks the same twice,' they said.
I threw my satchel on the breakfast counter and opened up the fridge for a drink of milk. The four bottles of milk on the shelf had all turned green with age. The fridge chuckled gleefully. It was such a spiteful fridge.
'I was just telling Mrs Philpotts about my university degree in medicine,' mom said. 'Be an angel, Crystal, and nip up into the attic for me, would you?'
'The attic?' I muttered, furiously slamming the fridge door shut. The fridge whimpered in pain, and then growled in anger. I ignored it. 'What do you want me to go up into the attic for?'
'To fetch my medical books,' mom winked. 'I'm sure I have a really good remedy for arthritis somewhere. Poor Mrs Philpotts suffers terribly from arthritis, don't you, dear.'
Mrs Philpotts expression turned into instant agony, and she held up her wrinkled, knobbly hands for me to see. It must be awful to be old, I thought.
'Go on then, Crystal,' mom urged.
I sighed heavily and stomped back out of the kitchen. Mom was about to cast one of her Really Useful spells again. Sometimes it was boring being the terribly nice daughter of a terribly nice witch. Oh to cast the odd nasty spell once in a while.
I passed Cuthbert in the hallway. He was curled up in his bed under the stairs looking very sorry for himself. 'She hasn't fed me again today, you know,' he moaned.
'I'll open up a tin for you in a minute.'
'A tin?' he grumbled. 'Not another tin full of artificial additives and unidentifiable bits of meat. Whatever happened to freshly cooked grub, like steak and chicken?'
'You're lucky,' Merlina mewed, delicately licking at her paws as she balanced on the end of the banister. 'All I ever get is fish heads and tails. No self-respecting tom cat will come near me with breath like mine.'
'It isn't your bad breath that makes tom cats run a mile,' Cuthbert barked, 'It's because you're so ugly.'
In the blink of an eye, Merlina jumped down off the banister, streaked across to Cuthbert, and sank her newly washed claws into his nose. Cuthbert growled, all the hairs on his back standing up on end. Merlina leapt back up onto the banister and hissed back at him. A glittering spell flew out of the kitchen and clamped both their mouths shut.
Leaving my thankfully mute pets glaring silently at each other, I clambered up into the attic. It was piled tile-high with boxes, old furniture, and all my old childhood toys. A thriving population of spiders spun their webby homes in between. I accidentally broke a few as I stumbled passed.
'Mind where you're going,' a particularly large spider screeched, bouncing up and down on its thin hairy legs. 'It took me three whole days to make that web, and you just barge right through it without any care or consideration.'
'Sorry,' I said.
'Sorry's no good, is it,' the spider yelled. 'Where am I going to live now that you've destroyed my home?'
'Build another one.'
'Have you any idea how long it takes to build a really good web like that?'
'Three days.'
For a moment, the spider looked surprised and confused by my knowledgeable answer. Then it huffed and scuttled off to the other side of the attic, where I heard it whispering nasty things about me to some woodworms.
There was an old trunk in the far corner. Mom kept all of her precious possessions in it, including her battered wand which she said was Old Hat in this day and age.
I opened up the lid. It creaked and sent several mice scampering off into the shadows. The Book of Magic Spells was easy to find because it glowed green in the dark. I carefully lifted it out and considered having a peek inside, but resisted the temptation because spell-casting wasn't officially allowed until I was older and had learned all the rules and regulations mom took absolutely no notice of.
I tucked the book under my arm and was about to close the lid, when I noticed something shining next the vampire doll Uncle Dracula had given me for my fifth birthday. At the bottom of the trunk, next to my baby photographs and moms pointed hat, was a book. An ordinary drawing book. Ordinary, except it had five raised diamonds on the cover. Four twinkled like bright stars, another was dull and didn't twinkle at all.
Curious, I opened it up. On the first page was an unsteady drawing of some hairy monster with big red eyes and a wobbly mouth. It looked vaguely familiar, like something I'd seen before. Maybe, I thought, it was a picture of some distant relative of mine. I took it downstairs to show mom.
'Who's this?' I asked, after Mrs Philpotts had gone home to take some purple painkillers mom had given her.
'That's not a who,' she said, peering over my shoulder at the drawing, 'That's a what.'
'Okay, what is it?'
'It's a monster you drew when you were little.' Mom's eyes misted over and she turned all sloppy. 'You were such a talented child, always drawing things, always making things up. You quickly got bored with your ordinary toys, so your dad suggested we give you this book.'
'Wow!' I scoffed. 'It obviously kept me occupied for hours. There's only one picture in it.'
'It's a magic book,' mom said.
'Magic?'
'Yes. Each page was a wish. You were supposed to draw five pictures of the things you wanted the most, and they would become real.'
'And I drew a monster?'
'I'm afraid so. You were hysterical when it suddenly appeared in the living room.'
'I'm not surprised. It's awful.'
'No it's not,' mom cooed, tenderly taking the book from my hands, 'Its lovely. A brilliant work of art for a three year old.'
I raised my eyes to the ceiling. Parents can be so embarrassing sometimes. When I looked down again, I saw the four bright stars sparkling between moms long fingernails.
'So, if I only used one wish,' I said, as casually as I could manage, 'Does that mean there's still four wishes left?'
Mom quickly clutched the book to her chest. 'You're not having it,' she said.
'But I only want to use the clean pages - '
'There's plenty of paper around the house for you to draw on.'
'But maybe there's a little bit of magic left. Magic keeps for a long time, doesn't it? Oh, please, mom,' I begged, 'Let me see if it still works.'
Mom firmly shook her head. 'You'd be drawing all sorts of things a three year old would never think of - '
'I'd keep it simple, honest. It's such a shame to waste good magic - '
'It's not wasted, Crystal. It'll keep perfectly well until my grandchildren arrive.'
'But mom - !'
'No. And that's my final word on the matter.'
Mom headed towards the kitchen door with the book still clutched at her chest. 'I'll put this somewhere safe so you won't get into mischief,' she said. 'Your father warned me to get rid of it years ago, but I couldn't bear to part with your lovely picture.'
She glided elegantly down the hallway, her feet two inches from the floor. At the bottom of the stairs, she tilted sideways, rested her head on her arm, and drifted up to the top in a horizontal recline. Mom could be very lazy at times.
As soon as she was out of sight I turned to Merlina, who was mercilessly teasing Cuthbert with a tin of unopened dog food.
'Follow her,' I said to my devoted black cat. 'Find out where she's hiding that book.'
'No,' Merlina mewed.
'Oh, go on.'
'Can't you see I'm busy trying to get some response from this dead animal you insist on keeping in the hallway?'
'I'll buy you a fresh piece of fish with my pocket money on Friday if you do me this one favour.'
Merlina considered this for a moment, then rolled the tin towards Cuthbert, banging him hard on the nose. He yelped. Merlina said, 'Okay,' and shot up the stairs before he had a chance to retaliate.
Moments later, she streaked back down again. 'Dressing table, bottom drawer, underneath the Herb tin and the solid gold diamond-encrusted bar she uses as a paperweight.'
'Thanks,' I said.
'Fish,' she said.
'Friday,' I said.
But I already knew that, by Friday, Merlina would have forgotten all about the fish and I could buy another Michael Jackson poster instead.
Later, while mom was busy watching the television news and making lists of worthy charities and rich pop stars, I sneaked upstairs to her bedroom. I took the book out of her drawer, and hid it under my mattress. Mom never makes beds.
I could barely get to sleep that night thinking about the things I could wish for. There was so much I wanted. I figured that, as they were only tiny baby wishes, I couldn't save the world from starvation or war, so I had four whole wishes all to myself.
Bringing dad home was top priority, of course. I missed him a lot, and so did mom. I knew she cried herself to sleep some nights because I'd seen the damp patches all over her bedroom ceiling. I would draw a picture of my dad at home, so he could stay with us forever and never have to haunt again.
I'd get rid of Haig Mullins, too. Nobody calls me Glassy and gets away with it. I would have to think up some really awful punishment for him.
Then I might draw myself having dinner with Michael Jackson, or Brad Pitt, or that good looking singer in East 17. Or I'd make Jim Carrey fall madly in love with me. We'd get married, live on a sprawling ranch in America, and ride around on horses all day holding hands.
'Mrs Jim Carrey,' I said out loud. It sounded good.
After that I might get some famous historical genius, like Einstein, to help me with my homework. Or, better still, I could make the Prime Minister pass a law that banned school altogether.
And I wanted a whole new wardrobe of clothes, and some gold jewellery, and a nice mansion in the country, and pets that didn't answer back all the time.
I wanted so much. And now I could have it all.
Excitement kept me awake until the early hours of the morning. I overslept and was late getting ready for school. I had to run around the house like a whirlwind frantically searching for my satchel and shoes.
Cuthbert was suspiciously helpful, and offered to wash my face with his rough tongue. Then I found my shoes in his bed, both chewed to pieces. Cuthbert and his rough tongue slunk off to hide in a cupboard.
I repaired my shoes with a bit of illicit magic, but magic doesn't like to be bothered first thing in the morning and my shoes turned from black to a sort of yucky yellow. I tried to magic up some new shoes, but ended up with plastic sandals, so I had to wear the yucky yellow ones.
I took the book to school with me and showed Dayle. Dayle knows my mom is a witch, that I have pets that answer back, and that my dad is a ghost. But she found it hard to believe that an ordinary-looking drawing book would grant me four wishes.
'Get real!' she laughed, as we sat inside a classroom during the wet play time.
'Honest, Dayle. Whatever I draw in this book will become real.'
'Prove it,' she said.
'How?'
'Make something horrible happen to Haig Mullins. It's the only way I'll be convinced.'
I tutted, hesitated, bit my lip a bit, then opened up the book. There were so many possibilities, so many ghastly revenges I could scribble on that blank page.
For endless minutes I sat chewing the end of my pencil with Dayle breathing heavily over my shoulder. Finally, a scene began to form in my mind, a really ugly scene that befitted a really ugly school bully.
Eagerly, I put pencil to paper. The end broke off. Pulling my satchel onto my lap, I was about to search for my pencil sharpener - which always seemed to hide in some hidden crevice I never knew existed - when Dayle impatiently thrust a biro into my hand and rasped, 'Draw!'
Slowly, carefully, I sketched the shape of a large body with spiky hair that only vaguely resembled Haig Mullins. Then I drew thick lines all around it to represent a metal cage.
'Art isn't your favourite subject, is it?' Dayle grumbled.
Ignoring her, I put a variety of evil looking monsters with bared fangs all around the cage. Then, in a mad fit of inspiration, Dayle insisted I draw a jagged horizon in the background and colour the sky pink to make it look like a Martian landscape.
When the page was filled and the picture complete, I held it up and studied my masterpiece.
'When will it happen?' Dayle asked breathlessly.
'I don't know.'
'How do you make it happen?' she asked.
'I don't know that, either.'
Dayle huffed in disgust. 'Our whole play time wasted on some silly drawing, and for what? For nothing!'
'It'll work,' I said. 'I just don't know how, or when.'
I closed the book and stared at the four bright stars on the cover. 'All I know is that every time a wish is granted, one of these lights go out.'
'One's gone out already,' Dayle enthused.
'I used that one when I was three years old. It wasn't quite the playmate I expected but ... oh, never mind. There were four stars glowing when we started, and there's still four glowing now.'
Dayle fell back into her chair and frowned. 'It's a joke, right?' she growled. 'You've been winding me up all this time, haven't you?'
Determined to convince her, I pointed at the stars with the tip of my finger. 'When one of these goes out,' I insisted, 'Our wish will come true.'
And I prodded at one of the stars. It flickered, and went dull. Dayle and I both sat bolt upright in our chairs and stared at it. I suddenly felt very frightened.
'Do you think - ?' Dayle began.
'I hope not,' I breathed.
Somewhere in the distance, a loud scream echoed down one of the long dark corridors of the school.
Dayle turned to me with wide eyes. 'That scream,' she said, clutching my arm, 'It sounded ... it sounded just like Haig Mullins.'
I began to shake. With trembling hands, I opened up the drawing book. My blood turned to ice as I stared at the picture I had drawn.
It had sounded like Haig Mullins screaming. And one of the stars had gone out.
It could only mean that our wish had been granted, that the thing we had drawn had become real.
Was Haig Mullins, the school bully and the blight of our lives, now trapped in a cage surrounded by monsters on some strange planet?
It didn't bear thinking about.
'Has it happened?' Dayle asked anxiously. 'Have we really made something awful happen to Haig Mullins?'
'I ... I think so.'
I felt the blood drain from my face, and watched Dayle turn white. We held each others hands tightly and willed ourselves not to panic.
When registration was taken in the form class that afternoon, Haig Mullins was noticeably absent. There was a serene, tranquil silence that prompted our teacher to ask after him.
'I think he went home,' someone said.
'Are you sure?' the teacher asked.
'No, Miss.'
'Did you actually see him leave school?'
'No, Miss.'
'Then what makes you think he went home?'
'Well, Miss, he's not here, is he.'
Dayle was on the verge of tears. 'You have to do something,' she whispered. 'You have to bring him back. Oh,' she wailed, 'I should never have let you talk me into it in the first place.'
'It wasn't my idea!'
'There's no time to argue,' she rasped. 'Just bring him back before we get into serious trouble and before Haig gets mad. Bring him back, Crystal. Bring him back now!'
'I don't know how.'
Dayle snatched up her bag, stood up, and went and sat down next to Fiona Harrison on the other side of the classroom. My so-called best friend had abandoned me in my greatest hour of need.
Haig didn't turn up at school the next day. Or the day after that. There was a rumour going around that he'd run away from home because his parents wouldn't give him more pocket money. Dayle and I knew better.
It was only our mutual fear that brought us back together again in the girls toilet one play time. Dayle was scared of being caught, of someone finding out what we had done.
'Ask your mom what to do,' she demanded, as we squatted in the corner of a wet cubicle. 'Get the wish reversed. Just do something, Crystal, to bring him back.'
'I can't ask my mom!'
'Why not?'
'Because she'd freak out and tell my dad, and he'd ground me for months and take away all my Fun Spells.'
Dayle screwed up her face and hissed, 'Are you saying you won't bring Haig back because you don't want to lose your Fun Spells? Crystal, you're so selfish!'
'You don't understand,' I cried. 'If I don't buy the Fun Spells off the Chief Magician every week, he'll get suspicious and come round to the house to find out what's wrong. If he discovers what I've done, he'll blame mom and take away all the magic in her magic account, and if mom doesn't have the magic to cook and clean and change her face every ten minutes she'll have a nervous breakdown and then dad will - '
'Okay, okay,' Dayle said, 'I get the point. But if we can't ask your mom for help, what can we do?'
'I don't know, Dayle. I really don't know.'
It was all such a mess.
Details of the final chapters will be sent to you within 48 hours. Genuine literary agents or publishers can obtain a hard or email copy of My Mom's A Witch upon request via email.
