The Courage of Cat Campbell (12 page)

Lying in the dark, Cat reached for the walkie-talkie. “Peter, come in,” she whispered. “Can you hear me, Peter?” There was no answer. “Peter Parker, are you there?”

“It's ten o'clock,” Peter said, his voice sounding thick and slurred.

“I have something important to tell you.”

“And it couldn't wait till the morning?”

“No,” Cat said firmly, “it couldn't. I've decided to reapply to Ruthersfield next year.”

“What! Are you crazy?” There was a rustling of sheets, and for the next ten minutes Cat told him all about her meeting with Clara Bell and
The Late Bloomer's Guide to Magic
, and learning to control her magic by overcoming her fears.

“So if you find any spiders, Peter, please bring them to school in a match box. That way I can start to get used to them. ‘Desensitizing myself,' that's what Francesca Fenwick calls it.”

“Can I go to sleep now, Cat? Because you have clearly lost your mind.”

“Yes, but please don't forget the spiders.”

C
AT KNEW SOMETHING WAS WRONG
before she even got downstairs. There was no smell of baking wafting through the cottage. Usually at this time her mother and Marie Claire were already bustling about, filling the bakery shelves with loaves of warm bread and buttery croissants. But this morning nothing was ready. Peeking into the shop, Cat saw that the blinds were still drawn and the glass cases sat empty. What on earth had happened? A nervous feeling gripped Cat's stomach. Maybe Marie Claire had fallen in the night and her mother had taken her to the hospital. Or maybe something awful had happened to her mother? The bakery was never like this in the mornings, except on Sundays and holidays. The feeling in Cat's stomach got worse. She raced through to the kitchen. “Mamma, where are you?”

Poppy and Marie Claire looked up from the table, a newspaper spread out between them. The radio was on, and the serious voice of a news announcer invaded the kitchen. Mamma and Marie Claire never listened to the news in the morning. There was always music playing.

“What's happened?” Cat said, relieved to see that her mother and Marie Claire were all right.

“A witch has escaped from Scrubs Prison,” Poppy said, her voice soft and serious.

“What witch?” Cat asked. “You're scaring me.” She sat down at the table, forgetting all about going to school, and pulled the newspaper toward her. “Madeline Reynolds!” Cat cried out, covering her mouth with her hands. “Oh, flipping fish cakes, it's Madeline Reynolds!”

“Now, don't go working yourself into a dither,” Poppy said. “Scrubs is a long way from here, Cat.” There were two grainy photographs on the front page of the paper. One was of a little girl about Cat's age, dressed in the Ruthersfield uniform. She was smiling at the camera. Underneath was written, “Madeline Reynolds, age eleven.” The other picture showed a bald-headed old woman wearing a boilersuit with the number ten stamped on the front. Her eyes were wild and staring, and Cat glanced from one photo to the other, trying to connect the two. The large, bold headline read,
MADELINE REYNOLDS, THE WORLD'S MOST EVIL WITCH, ESCAPES FROM SCRUBS PRISON.

“It is a little bit shocking,” Marie Claire said, keeping her voice calm. “Because such a thing has never happened before.”

Cat spoke through her hands. “A little bit shocking! She washed away the whole bottom half of Italy.”

“
Mon Dieu
, Cat!” Marie Claire said. “Let's not go stirring up the past. That happened a long time ago. She was caught right away and put straight into Scrubs, and I'm sure she'll be back there again very soon.”

“I can't believe this!” Cat said, knowing she sounded hysterical. “My worst nightmare has come true.”

Poppy stared at the newspaper. “I always thought Madeline Reynolds was sad.”

“Sad? She was evil, Mamma.”

“No, not ‘I've had a bad day' kind of sadness. I mean deeply, painfully sad. The sort of sad that breaks your heart in two and makes you do awful things.”

“You sound as if you know her,” Cat said. Her mother was making her uncomfortable.

“In a strange way I've always felt like I do,” Poppy confessed. “Like we had some kind of connection.”

“That is not something I want to hear about, Mamma. I'll start having Madeline Reynolds nightmares again.”

“I remember studying her for my biography project. She really loved music. She was this amazing spell chanter,” Poppy said, tapping the photograph of the little girl. “Doesn't she look sad to you?”

Cat glanced at the photograph. There was definitely a wistfulness in the little girl's eyes, even though she was smiling.

“I always thought,” Poppy added, “that she didn't want to be a witch. That her parents forced her to go to Ruthersfield, like me.”

“Even if that's true, it doesn't give her the right to wash away half of Italy,” Cat said, wondering how her mother could feel anything but revulsion for this awful creature. “And I don't believe being sad could make someone do something that dreadful,” Cat said. “That's just an excuse. She's evil.”

Poppy stood abruptly and walked over to the sink. She leaned against it, staring out the window. “Turn the radio up,” she said. “I want to listen.”

Cat hurried over and twisted the volume on the large red radio that sat on the shelf next to the flour.

“And now,” the broadcaster said, “we go direct to Scrubs Prison to hear from Jeremy Finkle, the guard responsible for Madeline Reynolds's escape.”

Marie Claire folded the newspaper up and tucked it under the teapot. Poppy gripped the edge of the sink hard, and Cat stood still, chewing the inside of her lip.

“I'd just taken Madeline her dinner, as usual,” Jeremy Finkle said, choking down a sob. “Porridge and grapefruit like she always gets.” He paused for a moment, the radio falling silent.

“And then what happened?” the interviewer asked.

“Well, I wasn't wearing my protective glasses,” Jeremy Finkle said. “We all have to wear them so we don't look the witches in the eye, you see. They are so full of evil, those witches, and Madeline in particular. Just terrifying.” Cat was certain she could hear Jeremy Finkle swallow. “But yesterday evening, well, I couldn't find my glasses and I figured, I've done this a thousand times. I know what I'm doing. I just wouldn't look at her.” There was another long silence on the radio.

“And what happened then?” the interviewer prodded.

“I couldn't help myself. She called my name. And before I knew what I was doing, I'd looked right at her. Right into those vile, terrifying eyes.” Jeremy Finkle sounded like he was crying. “Somehow she managed to hypnotize me, put me under some sort of spell. I remember this voice in my head, telling me to open the door of her cage. And I did it,” Jeremy sobbed. “I let her go. She jumped onto one of the work brooms that we clean the sheds out with and took off, just like that.”

“And now a few words from Boris Regal,” the interviewer said solemnly. “Head guard at Scrubs Prison.”

“She does not have a wand with her, let me make that quite clear,” an official-sounding voice said. “Or a proper broomstick. As head guard of Scrubs Prison, I want to assure people not to panic. Well, don't panic too much just yet. Madeline Reynolds is an extremely old witch. We are not underplaying the danger she presents, but she hasn't practiced magic in sixty-five years, although magic was clearly involved in her escape,” he admitted. “This matter is being looked into thoroughly, and we feel quite sure she will be captured and brought back to Scrubs very soon.”

“Is it true that the top part of Italy has already been evacuated?” the interviewer asked.

“There does seem to be reason to believe that this is where Madeline Reynolds is likely to head, so an evacuation is under way.”

“Turn that off, Cat,” Marie Claire gasped. “I've heard quite enough.”

“Me too,” Cat said, wondering what her mother was thinking. Poppy hadn't moved from the sink.

“You should get to school,” Marie Claire said. “Sitting here worrying won't help matters.”

“Mamma, are you okay?” Cat asked, wishing her mother would turn around.

“Go on now, hurry,” Marie Claire said, making shooing motions with her hands. “You are already going to be late.”

News of Madeline Reynolds's escape was all over Potts Bottom Elementary by the time Cat got there. She could hear kids whispering about it in class. Cat noticed a number of them giving her funny looks, glancing over quickly and away again, as if she had something to do with it. Concentrating in math was impossible, but when Cat tried to send Peter a note, Ms. Finley, their teacher, crumpled it up and tossed it into the bin before Peter had even read it. Cat had to wait until recess before they could talk.

“That's what the emergency was last night,” Peter told her as they stood in the corridor. “All the police stations were informed, and since Ruthersfield is in Potts Bottom and Madeline Reynolds went to school here, my dad's been getting lots of calls.”

“I feel sick to my stomach,” Cat said. “I wish you hadn't told me that.” She could see Anika and Karen walking toward them. They had their arms linked, and Karen pulled Anika over to the other side of her as they passed by Peter and Cat.

“Her mum used to be just like Madeline Reynolds,” Karen whispered loudly.

“You know nothing about my mother,” Cat said.

Anika gave Cat a shy smile and tried to pull away from Karen as if she didn't really agree with her.

“I know she runs the bakery and seems as nice as pie,” Karen said. “But I still can't believe she went over to the dark side when she was our age.”

“Are you talking about Madeline Reynolds?” Emily Willis said, running up to Karen and Anika. She pushed in between them. “Aren't you pleased you don't live in Italy? You know Madeline Reynolds is going to go back there and wash the rest of the country away.”

“How do you know that?” Peter asked, rubbing his glasses clean on his shirt.

“Well, that's what everyone says,” Emily whispered. “But I'm not at all worried. Nor are my parents. The guards will catch her.”

“Come on,” Peter said, pulling Cat down the corridor. “Those girls are so stupid. They don't know what they're talking about.”

“But the guards will catch her, right?” Cat said, needing to feel reassured. “No wand or broomstick. How dangerous can she be?”

“Look, my dad is really concerned,” Peter whispered. “I mean, think about it, Cat. She managed to escape from Scrubs Prison, and no one escapes from Scrubs, do they?”

“Peter, stop it!” Cat covered her ears.

“I thought you were over Madeline Reynolds.”

“Well, I lied.”

“Wow, you do need to work on your fears!” Peter said. He handed Cat a little Tupperware box. “As you requested! One giant hairy spider that I found in the basement this morning.”

Cat could see the spider through the clear plastic container. It looked about the size of a grape, with fat bent legs covered in fur. She shoved it back at Peter with a muffled cry. “I cannot have that in my backpack all day.”

“It's not going to hurt you, Cat,” Peter said with a grin.

“No!”

“But you asked me to find you one. I even put in a couple of tiny insect things for it to eat.”

“I'll collect it after school,” Cat said, thinking that conquering this fear of spiders was not going to be as easy as she'd thought. Something tickled the back of her neck and Cat screamed. She reached behind her and slapped Peter's hand away. “That's not funny, Peter,” Cat fumed as he cracked up laughing. “Not funny at all!”

M
R. ABBOTT, THE HEADMASTER OF
Potts Bottom Elementary, had gathered the whole school together so he could talk to them before dismissal that afternoon.

“Now, I know you have heard the news,” Mr. Abbott said, standing on a table at the front of the room. He was a little man and wanted to make sure everyone could see him. “But there is no need to panic.” He kept dabbing at his sweaty face with a handkerchief, and Cat thought he looked utterly terrified. “This matter will be taken care of by the guards at Scrubs Prison. They are trained to deal with witches from the dark side, and I have no doubt they will handle this in a swift and timely manner. So no one is to worry.” Mr. Abbott bared his teeth at them. It was meant to be a smile, Cat realized, but he looked more like one of Auntie Charlie's snaggletoothed goats. The look was not reassuring.

Cat waited for Peter in the school yard. “All right, I'm ready for the spider,” she said as he came striding over. Peter tucked the container into the side pocket of Cat's backpack, and she gave a little shudder. “It better not escape.”