The Worst Witch Saves the Day Read online

  CHAPTER FIVE

  on earth have you done to your hair, Mildred Hubble?’ exclaimed Miss Hardbroom, as Form Three trooped into the Great Hall for the first-day assembly.

  Mildred’s hair now resembled a haystack after a night in a force-nine gale. She was very tearful. Ethel had cut the hair roughly, in different lengths, to just below her ears. In some places it was so close to her scalp that there were bald patches showing through.

  ‘I got a styling brush stuck in it, Miss Hardbroom,’ sniffed Mildred.

  ‘– and I cut it off for her, Miss Hardbroom,’ simpered Ethel. ‘She was really upset, so I tried to shape it into a style for her, to neaten it up.’

  ‘Well, let that be a lesson to you, Mildred,’ said Miss Hardbroom. ‘Trying to do your hair in unsuitably frivolous styles. No good can ever come of all this preening and primping. I’m always warning you girls, but do you ever listen? My goodness, Miss Granite will have her work cut out with you in her class.’ She turned away and dismissed the subject of Mildred’s hair from her mind.

  Mildred, however, couldn’t think of anything else. Her long hair had been such a part of her daily routine, plaiting it each morning and brushing it each night. In fact, she hadn’t realized quite how upset she would feel at the prospect of presenting herself to the world without it.

  ‘I wish I could turn the clock back,’ said Mildred glumly when they had finally been allowed to take their lunch break after two hours of assembly with Miss Cackle droning on about the joys of the Academy and Miss Hardbroom grimly reminding the pupils of the high standards and traditional values expected of one and all. Form Three hastily stuffed down their swede-and-cabbage risotto and rushed out to sit in the yard for half an hour of sunshine before they were trapped with Miss Granite for the rest of the day.

  ‘Don’t keep thinking about it, Mildred,’ said Maud kindly. ‘It won’t take long to grow again – well, it’ll be quite a while, but it’ll only be a few weeks before it loses that just-cut look. Perhaps I could try and neaten it up a bit.’

  ‘I’d rather you didn’t,’ said Mildred hastily. ‘I don’t want to lose any more if you don’t mind – thanks all the same.’

  ‘I think it looks quite cool, actually,’ said Enid, ruffling the top of Mildred’s head. ‘It’s quite fashionable to have that hacked-off look at the moment.’

  ‘Just shut up, Enid, OK?’ said Maud, seeing Mildred’s shoulders hunch up round her ears. ‘Let’s try and change the subject, shall we? I wonder what it’s going to be like with Miss Granite for the year.’

  ‘Anything’ll be better than H.B.,’ said Mildred. ‘Nothing could be worse than another year of traditional values and always being wrong, however hard you try. Even if she does seem a bit weird, Miss Granite looks quite sweet really – what you can see of her. The only bit you can really make out is her nose! Anyway, we’ll find out what she’s like any minute now. We’ve got double potions with her when the bell goes.’

  When the girls filed into the potion lab at the end of break, Miss Granite was already there, opening all the windows to let some air into the hot and stuffy room. Textbooks were laid out on the desks and everyone settled themselves on to their stools and looked up expectantly at their new teacher.

  ‘Good afternoon, girls,’ said Miss Granite in her squeaky voice, which seemed to have gone up an octave since they had heard her in the playground that morning. ‘I’d like you to take it easy this afternoon. You may all look through the Year Three Spell Sessions Handbook, find some spells which may be of interest to you and learn them by heart. You can try out a few if you like. Now you’re in Year Three I don’t expect to be telling you what to do all the time.’

  The girls felt rather confused. Miss Hardbroom never allowed them to do anything at all without hours of instruction and warnings of dire consequences if they didn’t read every paragraph fifteen times.

  ‘Excuse me, Miss Granite,’ said Ethel, putting up her hand. ‘Is there any particular spell you might like us to study?’

  ‘Not really,’ squeaked Miss Granite vaguely. ‘Whatever interests you, dear.’ And to Form Three’s utter amazement, Miss Granite took out a long bundle of grey knitting from her desk and began to knit in a most intense manner. The girls sat with their mouths open, left completely to their own devices.

  ‘This is really bizarre,’ whispered Maud to Mildred.

  ‘Perhaps it’s always like this in Year Three,’ said Enid. ‘You know, more relaxed.’

  ‘I think it’s brilliant,’ said Mildred, ‘just doing stuff on our own. Working at our own pace. Suits me! I’m going to see what I can find in our new Year Three spell book.’

  Everyone except Ethel seemed to quite enjoy the new arrangement. Ethel was one of those rare people who thoroughly enjoyed exams and rotas and carrying out detailed instructions which she had grimly studied beforehand. It didn’t seem right to be looking up any spell she felt like while the decidedly odd Miss Granite sat knitting at her desk, resembling an overgrown shrub, not teaching them anything at all.

  The rest of the girls quickly adapted and maths was never Mildred’s strong point. She glanced up at Miss Granite, who was half hidden by her hair and turned-up collar and the ever-growing pile of knitting.

  ‘Excuse me, Miss Granite,’ said Mildred, putting up her hand. ‘Could you help me with this regrowth spell?’

  Miss Granite turned her head in Mildred’s direction, knitting needles still busily clicking.

  to the new laid-back teaching style and leaned on their desks, chatting about the holidays or doodling in their rough notebooks. Enid and Maud were boldly playing a spirited game of noughts and crosses (best of ten) on the cover of Maud’s potions exercise book. Only Mildred was actually doing some work. She had found a chapter completely devoted to a spell to generate growth and she immediately began to wonder if she could use it to repair the damage to her hair. It was a very complicated spell, full of unintelligible formulae,

  ‘Just look it up in your dictionary of formulae, dear,’ she replied. ‘You have got one, haven’t you?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Mildred. ‘But it’s a bit complicated –’

  ‘Well, it’s about time you knew how to do things for yourself, dear,’ squeaked Miss Granite. ‘Now you’re in Year Three, I don’t want you bothering me every five minutes.’

  ‘Sorry, Miss Granite,’ muttered Mildred.

  ‘Perhaps I can help you, Mildred,’ said Ethel, leaning over Mildred’s shoulder. ‘What’s the problem?’

  ‘It’s all right, Ethel,’ said Mildred guardedly. ‘I can work it out by myself, thanks.’

  ‘Oh, go on, Mildred,’ wheedled Ethel. ‘I’m really good at maths and it’s a bit boring with no proper lesson today. I’m sure I could help.’

  The most annoying thing about Ethel was her ability to convince you that she might, just this once, be truly sorry about whatever unpleasant thing she’d done recently and was actually going to make amends. Mildred fell for it every time.

  ‘Well,’ she said in an uncertain voice, ‘it’s this regrowth spell. Look, there are six pages telling you how to make it up. I can get the part about the ingredients – you know, tendrils of Parthenosis and sixteen dewdrops from a spider’s web without breaking the strands, that sort of stuff – but I can’t understand all these formulae and it won’t work unless you can understand the whole thing.’

  ‘Easy-peasy,’ smiled Ethel. ‘I can do this standing on my head. Is it for your hair?’

  Mildred nodded.

  ‘Well, budge up,’ said Ethel, smiling happily. ‘It’s the least I can do after making you look like a scarecrow – though I was only trying to help you out of a jam.’

  ‘Thanks, Ethel,’ said Mildred. ‘It’s really good of you.’

  ‘Don’t mention it,’ smiled Ethel.

  CHAPTER SIX

  ildred sat on the edge of her bed, wearing a grey nightie, clutching a test-tube of purple liquid which bubbled and frothed at the top like a fizzy drink.
Maud and Enid were huddled behind her, both wearing black-and-grey-striped pyjamas. The first day had finally come to a close and Form Three were supposed to be winding down before lights-out.

  Miss Granite had the same relaxed attitude to bedtime as she did to everything else and had told the girls to blow out their own candles by eight thirty, before she wandered off into the school without a backward glance. This gave Mildred a proper opportunity to test the regrowth potion that Ethel had helped her to make.

  ‘What are you supposed to do with it?’ asked Maud.

  ‘It says you have to apply it,’ answered Mildred, ‘so I suppose you have to dibble it on to whatever you want to regrow.’

  ‘I think you ought to massage it in,’ said Enid, ‘like shampoo. I’ll do it for you, if you like, but I’ll need some rubber gloves or I might grow huge great hands!’

  ‘I brought some rubber gloves from the potion lab,’ said Mildred. ‘I thought we’d probably need some.’

  ‘I’m not sure about this,’ said Maud. ‘Perhaps we ought to check it with someone first.’

  ‘Like – who?’ asked Mildred. ‘We can hardly ask H.B., and Miss Granite’s in some dream world of her own. Ethel seemed pretty confident about it and it’s the right colour. Let’s go for it!’

  ‘Hang on,’ said Maud, ‘I’ll get a towel.’

  She took a towel from the back of a chair and draped it round Mildred’s neck.

  Enid pulled on the rubber gloves and, taking the test-tube very carefully from Mildred, poured the contents drop by drop among the roots of Mildred’s hair, working it in all over until the potion was completely used up. It fizzed slightly as it touched Mildred’s scalp.

  ‘There you go,’ said Enid, standing on tiptoe and peering all round the top of Mildred’s glistening head. ‘Every strand’s covered in it.’

  ‘Now what?’ said Mildred, sitting stiffly on the bed, too nervous to move.

  ‘I s’pose we just wait,’ said Maud. ‘Perhaps you have to sleep in it – you know, like nit lotion.’

  ‘Well, nothing seems to be happening yet,’ said Mildred. ‘Perhaps it isn’t going to work anyway. It did seem too good to be true.’

  ‘Do you think Miss Granite’s always going to be like she was today?’ asked Maud. ‘It really is a bit strange that she’s turned up in a school like this, don’t you think? I can’t imagine H.B. approving of her do-it-yourself style of teaching for very long – can you?’

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  talking along the corridor below, Miss Hardbroom was thinking exactly the same thought as Maud. She had craftily called a staff meeting, ostensibly so that they could all discuss how the first day had progressed, but really it was so she could ask Miss Granite a few probing questions without looking as if she was picking on the new teacher. Miss Cackle’s Academy had needed a new teacher because the previous one, Miss Gribble, had left after only one term, completely unable to maintain any discipline, and it had been necessary to hire a replacement very quickly. Miss Granite’s application form had sounded wonderful, and that marvellous name – Granite, so strong and purposeful. Such a pity that they didn’t meet her until the day before school began. Miss Hardbroom hardly knew what to say when this strange, shuffling person arrived, half hidden in the most unruly hair (such a bad example to the girls) and with a voice like a hysterical mouse. But of course Miss Cackle had been kindness itself, as usual, and had insisted they give Miss Granite a chance. Sometimes Miss Cackle was just too feeble for her own good, reflected Miss Hardbroom bitterly.

  The meeting was in the small staff room, just below Form Three’s row of bedrooms. Miss Hardbroom was the first to arrive and she set about putting glasses of water and pencils and paper by each chair. There seemed to be quite a lot of noise coming from above. In fact, it sounded as if girls were running about in the corridors up there! Miss Hardbroom was just about to set off and investigate when Miss Cackle pushed open the door and came in, followed by Miss Bat, so she decided to wait until after the meeting.

  Up in Mildred’s room, Enid, Mildred and Maud were perched in a row on the edge of the bed, feeling a bit let down after their initial excitement about the potion.

  ‘It’s not going to work, is it?’ sighed Mildred. ‘Let’s face it, I’m just stuck looking barmy for the next six months. Why don’t we go to bed now, before someone comes up to investigate all the messing about in the corridor and we all get into trouble.’

  ‘Good thinking, Mildred,’ said Maud. ‘Everyone’s being really silly out there tonight. At least we’re the goody-goodies for once!’

  The whole day had seemed really topsy-turvy, reflected Mildred, as she snuggled down under the bedclothes, with Tabby happily settled on her chest, kneading the covers and purring loudly. To her surprise, she found herself feeling a bit uneasy about the happy-go-lucky attitude of Miss Granite as she listened to the general mayhem going on outside her door. Someone had set up some skittles at one end of the corridor and several girls were having a bowling contest, punctuated with loud cheering. H.B. was right really. It only took five minutes of slipping standards and everyone seemed to have forgotten how to behave.

  Mildred put a hand up to her hair. It had dried into a crispy bird’s-nest and obviously wasn’t going to do anything, so she blew out her candle and attempted to fall asleep, despite the escalating noise outside. ‘Oh well,’ she thought contentedly, ‘at least I won’t be in the firing line when H.B. suddenly blows a fuse at them all.’

  A few minutes later, as Mildred was just drifting off, Tabby started patting her neck.

  ‘Stop it, Tab,’ said Mildred, batting him off in the dark. At once, Tabby bounced back on to the bed and started pouncing on Mildred’s head and shoulders, making darting pats, rather as he had done when he was a kitten trying to catch a string pulled along the floor. ‘Tabby!’ exclaimed Mildred crossly. ‘What’s got into you? Stop it! Get off me!’

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ownstairs, in the staff room, all the teachers had arrived and were seated round the table. The shouts and bumping in the corridor above were very noticeable and Miss Hardbroom, knowing that it was coming from Form Three’s bedroom corridor, realized that this would be an excellent way to challenge Miss Granite’s methods of teaching and control without looking as if she was being too hasty or interfering. Miss Cackle assisted matters by commenting on the noise.

  ‘What is going on up there, Miss Hardbroom?’ she asked, raising her eyes to the ceiling. ‘It sounds as if the girls are having a party. I know there are always high spirits on the first day back, but it really is getting rather late and I can hardly hear myself think!’

  Miss Hardbroom stood up and turned her steely gaze in the direction of Miss Granite, who sat hunched in her seat at the far end of the table, half hidden by her cape collar and bush-like hair.

  ‘Miss Granite,’ said Miss Hardbroom, ‘the corridor upstairs is inhabited by Form Three – your girls, are they not? Perhaps you are not aware of the stringent rules concerning bedtimes at Miss Cackle’s Academy? Candles out for all pupils, even the fifth-years, by eight thirty at the very latest. I must point out –’

  She stopped in mid-flow. Everyone could suddenly hear a very loud and desperate miaowing coming from directly outside the window, with frantic screams wafting down from somewhere above. Miss Drill leapt up and rushed to peer out into the twilight.

  ‘I think you’d all better come and take a look at this,’ she said.

  Outside the window they saw Mildred’s cat, Tabby, hanging on desperately to a great mass of dark stuff, which was descending in a steady, fluid motion towards the courtyard thirty metres below.

  Upstairs, Mildred’s screams had alerted the pupils in the corridor. Maud and Enid were first on the scene. By the light of the corridor-lanterns, they could all see that the potion had worked – rather too well, unfortunately. No one had paused to think how you could stop the hair if it started growing, and there it was, twisting and tumbling all around the room, with Mildred ju
mping up and down on the bed, trying to fight her way clear so that she could breathe.

  ‘Maud!’ she screamed. ‘Tabby’s gone out of the window! He was trying to catch the hair when it started growing after I’d gone to sleep – I didn’t realize what he was doing and pushed him off and now he’s gone out with the hair! Oh, Maud! Can’t you do something? Please!’

  For a few moments, nobody knew what to do, as the hair was growing in

  a terrifyingly unstoppable way. Some of it was coiling up under the bed, more was cascading out of the window and the rest poured out through the open door into the corridor, twirling around people’s ankles like a speeded-up film of ivy invading a ruin.

  Maud and Enid snapped out of their trance and sprang into action.

  ‘Come out into the corridor, Mildred,’ shrieked Enid. ‘Move away from the hair – start trying to drag it behind you.’

  Mildred climbed off the bed and made for the door, while Maud burrowed through the hair towards the window so she could start trying to haul in the huge hank that was plummeting out into space.

  ‘Hang on, Tab,’ yelled Maud. ‘Nearly got you!’

  ‘Have you, Maud?’ shouted Mildred over her shoulders. ‘Have you got him?’

  ‘Yes!’ lied Maud, who could see Tabby six metres below, yowling his head off outside the lit window beneath. ‘Just keep going down the corridor, Millie – don’t look back!’

  Maud pulled at the hair with all her might, like a fisherman hauling in a net, trying not to jerk it so that Tabby could hold on better, but Mildred’s hair was very silky and kept slipping through her fingers.

  The room was full of girls desperately trying to hold the hair