Potions and Pageants Page 17

  “That leaves Headmistress Glory,” said Nan. “She can have a word with the higher ups at the Eldritch Council.”

  Percy shook her head. Headmistress Glory would get suspicious about Percy’s sudden interest in this whole matter, and that road would lead to Lucifer. Plus, Glory had already said she wanted Percy to sort out Lucifer’s messes.

  “Let me worry about it,” she said. “I’ll think of something.”

  Nan did not look relieved at this idea. She gave a half-nod, half-shrug. Percy had hoped Nan might offer to help, two brains being better than one. But she couldn’t blame Nan for not wanting to get involved in Lucifer’s messes. It wasn’t her problem.

  “We should head back,” Nan said. “They might get suspicious about what we are doing here.”

  Percy followed Nan back towards the assembly hall.

  Nan looked miserable. “I can’t believe this has happened. Poor Judge Emma. Gosh, I feel so horrible for saying this, but they’re probably going to cancel the final show on Friday, and I was so looking forward to it and we sold all of the tickets and everything…” Her voice trailed off.

  “Sorry,” said Percy. “I know you worked really hard on this. It’s pretty amazing really how you managed to make it all come together.”

  Nan’s face glowed at the compliment. “Thanks Percy,” she said.

  “No problem, Cherub.”

  “Shut up, Demonling.”

  They laughed, but then the gravity of the situation hit them again and they stopped.

  When the girls reached the assembly hall, they began looking for Mrs Gooding among all the groups of people still there. The stage was visible now, the curtains having been raised back up. Percy saw that the paramedics had already carted away the body.

  “Aren’t they going to take pictures of the crime scene or anything?” said Percy anxiously.

  Mrs Gooding came hurrying towards them. “There you two are,” she said. “I was worried. Nan, darling, the police and the Eldritch Council have agreed that it was a horrible accident, and the headmistress and Head Judge Alice both want Friday’s final to go ahead in Judge Emma’s memory. Especially as it’s for a good cause and they think that’s what Emma Waters would have wanted. How do you feel about that, darling?”

  “Oh thank goodness!” said Nan, throwing her arms around her mum, who hugged her tightly.

  “Oh good. I know how hard you’ve worked, darling. I thought you’d be so disappointed. I mean, what happened to Judge Emma is just terrible. But it was a horrible freak accident. She was such a nice lady. I’m sure she’d approve of it going ahead.”

  “A freak accident?” said Percy in disbelief. “Aren’t they going to investigate?”

  “Investigate what, dear?” said Mrs Gooding looking confused.

  The two girls looked at each other, but they didn’t know how to explain what Percy thought to Mrs Gooding.

  Percy thought Nan even looked a little relieved at the idea of the whole thing being over.

  “But what if it wasn’t an accident?” said Percy

  “Of course it was an accident, dear,” insisted Mrs Gooding. “We all saw it happen. I know it’s very upsetting, but the school will make counselling available for all the students. In fact, counselling was the idea of that wonderful young man Felix… Oh I forget his second name. But wasn’t that thoughtful of him to suggest such a thing?”

  Percy looked around the assembly hall in disbelief. People must have been given the go-ahead to leave, because they were slowly filing towards the doors. There was a muted energy about the place, as if the whole matter had been just an exciting little drama and had all been laid to rest.

  On the stage, Headmistress Glory was shaking Councilor Strickt’s hand with a sense of finality and ushering him towards the exit, as if the whole matter had been wrapped up to their satisfaction.

  Alice Evangelista and Georgie Little were by the judges’ table. To Percy’s horror, she saw Alice Evangelista hand over Judge Emma’s handbag, with the green juice inside it, to a Humble police officer.

  The Humble police would have no idea how to check for remnants of any magical potion. And Percy was sure that whatever was inside must be magical.

  Bella hurried past Percy, flanked by both her parents.

  “Thank goodness the show is going ahead on Friday,” she was saying in strident tones. “After all the hard work that I put into it. Can you believe they were discussing cancelling it? Don’t they know that the first rule of show business is that the show must go on!”

  It was the last straw. The thought that she might have done it and was getting away with it was just too much for Percy.

  Before Percy could think about what she was doing, she had shouted out loud, “It was murder!”

  Her words seemed to echo through the whole assembly hall, bringing everyone to a shocking standstill. They all turned to stare at her, looking uncertain about whether she had really said what she had said.

  Percy ran up onto the stage and grabbed hold of the microphone.

  “It was murder,” she said again, her voice amplified so there was no mistaking it. “Judge Emma Waters was worried about a serious matter before she died and had insisted on talking to the headmistress and the other judges about it. It was the last thing she was talking about before she died, but she never got a chance to tell them. Are we really supposed to believe that her death was an accident?

  “Shut up, you freak!” said Bella furiously.

  “Mosshead has lost the plot,” jeered Delphine.

  “Sore loser, you mosshead,” shouted Eleanor. “You just want to cancel the show because you lost. You didn’t even get through to the final.”

  “Loser!” screamed Blanche and Barbie at the same time.

  And then the students started chanting, “Loser! Loser! Loser!”

  “Murder,” Percy said into the microphone, her words much louder than theirs. “Murder, murder, murder.”

  The microphone crackled, and the volume of her voice died down. Somebody had switched it off.

  Headmistress Glory was charging towards Percy with her jaw clenched, and Councilor Strickt was right behind her.

  “What is the meaning of this,Miss Prince?” she demanded.

  “Don’t you think they should investigate properly, headmistress, instead of sweeping it all under the carpet?” said Percy angrily.

  Headmistress Glory pursed her lips. Mrs Gooding looked flabbergasted. Councilor Strickt glared.

  He seemed to suddenly become aware that the entire audience was staring at him. Finally he gave a brief nod of his head.

  “I’ll make sure this gets investigated,” he said to Headmistress Glory. His tone was reassuring because he full well knew far too many ears were listening in. “However, as all witness statements indicate an accidental death, it is doubtful that there is anything that you or your students need to be alarmed about.”

  “And you’ll gather all the evidence,” said Percy insistently. “Including Judge Emma’s handbag.” She pointed at the Humble police officer who was holding it.

  He nodded again, and sent Felix over to collect it.

  Feeling relieved, Percy made her way off the stage and over to Nan and Mrs Gooding.

  “Can you believe they tried to shut the whole thing down without an investigation?” she said.

  Nan was looking at her in disbelief. “I thought you said that you understood how hard I had worked on all of this?” she said accusingly.

  “I do,” said Percy, confused.

  “Then why did you have to say your stupid murder theory on the microphone in front of everyone? Couldn’t you have just told the headmistress quietly? It’s like you want them to cancel my pageant!”

  Shooting Percy a hurt look, Nan left, dragging her mother with her.

  As Percy left the hall alone, someone called after her, “Moaning mosshead! What a sore loser!”

  15. Mr Bramble’s Aviary

  Percy got home and stashed the bottle of ominou
s green juice in the freezer.

  She felt tired and a little bit weird about how things ended with Nan. If Percy had waited, the evidence would have been lost. It wasn’t fair that Nan was upset with her. So why was it Percy who felt bad?

  There was no sign of Jeeves in the kitchen, and nor could she hear the faint sounds of him rattling around up in his attic. He was either out visiting one of his friends, or sulking because he was still mad at her for dumping his food in the bin.

  Percy knew she should go up and try to patch things up with him. She debated in her mind going up to knock on his door. She’d say she was sorry, even though she hated apologizing, and he’d be huffy about it like he always was.

  But then he would probably come down and make her a cup of tea, which was what he always did to show he was back to his usual self.

  Percy climbed the stairs towards the attic.

  Jeeves was full of interesting information, and if anyone could help her figure out what was wrong with the green juice, it might be him. She would have to think of a way to ask him about it without telling him anything about her murder suspicions. This was going to be very difficult, because Jeeves liked to ask all sorts of questions.

  Halfway up the stairs, Percy hesitated. Was telling him really the best idea?

  Jeeves was likely to know the sorts of people who could help Percy, but those people would have questions of their very own, especially if something particularly nasty was found in the juice. Questions Percy would not want to answer.

  Sighing, Percy went back to the kitchen and sat down at the table to contemplate the conundrum.

  Suddenly an idea popped into her head. Grabbing a thick jumper, she yanked it on. Then she got the bottle of green juice out of the freezer, and hurried out of the back door and into the garden.

  She made her way down to the bottom of her garden, which involved a long walk down a meandering path and landscaped flower beds and shrubbery.

  The garden was a much larger place than it had a right to be. Her mother had magically enhanced it to be enormous so that she could entertain her guests on hot summer days.

  Right at the very back, behind a little orchard of fruit trees, was the dense patch of thorny blackberry and rose brambles. Percy was not looking forward to them.

  Pulling the long sleeves over her hands and the over-large hood down low over her face, she battled her way through the brambles, wincing whenever the thorns tugging at her clothes managed to scratch her skin.

  There used to be a path here that Mr Bramble had kept clear when she had been young, but it had overgrown years ago, seeing as she didn’t regularly visit Mr Bramble’s home any more.

  “Mr Bramble?” she called out loudly as she went.

  Mr Bramble did not like surprise visits. He was a very private individual.

  “Mr Bramble, are you there?” she called.

  Him not answering was all too reminiscent of her last visit to his home, and a little ball of anxiety formed in her stomach.

  On the other side of the bramble patch, she had to pull aside some hanging ivy until she found a little door set into a sloping rock that emerged out of the ground. This led to Mr Bramble’s underground home.

  She had grown far too tall to comfortably enter, so she hoped she could cajole him into coming out to speak with her.

  She knocked on the door. There was no answer.

  She hoped this was not because he wasn’t in, and was because he was mad at her. It had to be the latter.

  She was in the mood to rattle the door handle, but she did not. And hegs had various unpleasant means with which they protected their homes from unwanted company. She didn’t want to find herself attacked by poisonous spiders or pecked to death by angry crows, although she hoped that Mr Bramble wouldn’t be the sort of heg to resort to such means.

  “Mr Bramble?” she called again.

  There was no answer, but she did hear a rustle coming from the far side of Mr Bramble’s part of the garden.

  She followed the sound, down a dainty, moss-covered stone path winding amid a patch of wild flowers and shrubs. At its end she discovered Mr Bramble contemplating a tree.

  He huffed when he heard her arrival, as if he was displeased that she was here.

  “I’m sorry about yesterday, Mr Bramble,” she said. “I was angry and I took it out on you. I shouldn’t have.”

  Percy felt humiliated saying these words. It was not in her nature to apologize, and she would have much preferred to have waited a few days and then offered him a cup of tea when he finally came around again.

  But she didn’t have a few days to wait, and Mr Bramble did deserve this apology.

  She was a little bit miffed that he acted like he had not heard it. He did not say anything and he continued to look at his tree, his back to her.

  “I didn’t mean what I said,” she said. “About you writing and telling mum all my… er, private stuff.”

  “My poor birds,” said Mr Bramble sadly.

  Ah, no wonder he was distracted.

  Percy looked up at the tree, which wasn’t particularly tall. Amongst the dense leaves, she could see several nests in the higher branches.

  She heard a twittering, and a little robin flew out of one of them. The robin cheeped at Mr Bramble.

  Mr Bramble held out a hand, and the Robin flew over to perch on his forefinger. It chirruped a little noise that sounded like a complaint.

  “Er, what’s wrong with your birds?” asked Percy.

  The bird twittered some more and flew away.

  Mr Bramble turned around to face Percy. “What do you want?” he asked.

  Percy was going to demand why he would assume that she only came to visit him because she wanted something, but then she bit her tongue. It was true. She had only come to visit him because she needed something.

  “I would have come to visit you before,” she said. “But Jeeves said you were resting. Are you feeling better now?”

  “It’s good to be back in my garden,” he said. “Good to be with my friends.”

  “Speaking of friends,” she said. “You know that friend of yours who is a hegwitch? Are you still in touch with her?”

  Mr Bramble’s thick, fuzzy eyebrows lowered ominously over his beetle eyes. “Why?” he said suspiciously.

  It was no wonder Mr Bramble was alarmed. If the Eldritch Council disapproved of hegs making their homes within cities, this was nothing compared to how they felt about hegs who had magic.

  Hegs with magic were rare, probably because they were so feared by the magical and eldritch communities that they had all been wiped out throughout history. Or so Percy’s mum had said.

  From her standing position, Percy was towering over Mr Bramble, so she sat down cross-legged on the grass.

  “I was hoping your friend could help me,” she said.

  She handed him the bottle of green juice. “There’s something wrong with this, and I was thinking your friend might be able to figure out what it was.”

  Mr Bramble frowned at the green juice inside the clear bottle. He unscrewed the cap.

  “Careful!” said Percy. “I think it might be dangerous.”

  She did not tell him that she could see an ominous black haze surrounding the bottle. Clearly Mr Bramble could not see the same thing or he would have been equally as alarmed as she was.

  Mr Bramble took a sniff of the contents, and then his head reared back sharply, as if he had smelt something unpleasant.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  Percy had taken a sniff herself but hadn’t been able to detect anything other than what smelled like kale and cucumber.

  “I couldn’t smell anything,” she added.

  “I don’t know,” said Mr Bramble. “All sorts of good things, but something bad too.”

  Hegs had a strong affinity with nature. If Mr Bramble thought there was something wrong with the green juice, then there had to be something wrong. Percy was excited.

  “I think it might be something ma
gical,” she said. “Will your friend take a look at it for me?”

  “No,” said Mr Bramble. He handed the bottle back to Percy.

  She refused to take it. “Please!” she said.

  “This thing is a troubling thing. I shan’t help you with it.”

  “Please,” she begged. “I don’t know who else to go to.”

  “What is it for?” he demanded.

  “Promise not to tell mum?” she said. “Or Jeeves?”

  Mr Bramble’s bottom lip stuck out mutinously. “I haven’t written to your mother in weeks,” he said. “And all because you fired Nanny Nora, and I knew you’d be mad at me if I told her about that. And I couldn’t write to her and not tell her about it, because that would be like telling a lie!”

  His cheeks had gone pink, and his eyes were suspiciously shiny. Percy felt very guilty.

  “Mr Bramble, is that why you went walkabout in the first place?”

  Hegs liked to go for long walks when they were stressed. And Mr Bramble had very nearly got lost forever. And it was all because of her?

  “I needed to think,” he said. “Too many thoughts were buzzing in my head. Buzzing and fuzzing. Not nice buzzing like the bees.”

  Percy felt terrible. Why had she not foreseen it? She knew that Mr Bramble managed his relationship with her mother very carefully. He had always helped Gwendolyn to take care of Percy as a kind of repayment for Gwendolyn’s kindness in letting him live in the garden without informing the Eldritch Council.

  And he also got along quite well with her mother too, who was one of the few people he could call a friend. Percy had not realized that firing Nanny Nora would have had this effect on Mr Bramble’s correspondence with her mother. She had thought that he would simply not mention the nanny situation at all.

  “Sorry,” she said. She sighed. “I’ll write to mum myself right away and let her know that I fired Nanny Nora. Will you help me now?”

  “No!” he said stubbornly. “I shan’t help you until you help yourself. You’re always doing things you aren’t supposed to be doing, and never doing things you are supposed to be doing. Never.”