Weava the Wilful Witch Read Free Page A

who likes parties, not me,’ muttered Jemima.
    â€˜I wish you’d make an effort,’ said her mother. ‘I’m starting this children’s party business for you. I want you to have lots of fun.’
    Jemima sighed. ‘I don’t think fancy-dress parties are fun,’ she said.
    â€˜Nonsense!’ Mrs James waved her hand. ‘Guess what? Mary Charm’s little sister is here for a visit. Her name’s Wendy, I think. Now you’ll have someone to play with.’
    Jemima stayed sitting on the stairs after her mother had gone. ‘Wendy Charm is a silly name,’ she said aloud.
    â€˜I agree,’ said a voice.
    Jemima jumped as a girl appeared. She was Jemima’s size, and she had curly hair. She wore a long black dress that came almost to her ankles. Under that were striped stockings and buckled shoes. She held a broom in her right hand.
    â€˜Where did you come from?’ Jemima asked the girl.
    â€˜My sister’s flat,’ said the girl. ‘I sneaked out when she wasn’t looking.’
    â€˜Is your name Wendy?’ said Jemima.
    The girl frowned. ‘It’s Weava. Get it right. Names are important to witches.’
    Jemima looked at Weava again. ‘Why are you wearing a witch costume? Mum hasn’t started her stupid dress-up children’s parties yet.’
    â€˜I am a witch.’
    â€˜You are not,’ said Jemima. ‘There’s no such thing.’
    â€˜I am so,’ said the girl. ‘Merry’s one, too.’
    â€˜Who’s Merry? Do you mean Mary from next door?’
    â€˜Yes, she’s my sister. But her name’s not Mary.’ The girl sat down beside Jemima. ‘That woman with the green hair got her name wrong, too.’
    â€˜That’s my mum,’ said Jemima. ‘How do you know what she said? You weren’t here.’
    â€˜I was here,’ said Weava. ‘You just didn’t see me.’
    â€˜But——’ Jemima began to protest. Suddenly, Weava wasn’t there any more.
    â€˜Weava?’ Jemima glanced up and down the stairs. ‘Where did you go?’
    â€˜Nowhere,’ said Weava’s voice, out of thin air.
    Jemima blinked. There Weava was again, sitting on a stair. ‘You’re a ghost?’
    â€˜A witch,’ said Weava. ‘I didn’t go anywhere. I just put on my DNM spell so you couldn’t see me.’ *
    â€˜Witches aren’t real,’ said Jemima.
    Weava smiled. ‘Yes, they are. I’ll prove it to you. Let’s go to my room.’
    Jemima got up off the stair. ‘OK.’
    Weava got on her broom, and patted the stick behind her. ‘Jump on!’ she said.
    Jemima got on and put her arms around Weava. Weava whispered something, and the broom lifted into the air and glided down the stairs.
    Jemima gasped. ‘I thought we were going to your room!’
    â€˜We are. Through the outside window,’ said Weava.

    Jemima clung to Weava as the broom shot through the entrance hall, out the doors, and bounced into the air in the street outside.
    â€˜Duck!’ said Weava.
    Jemima ducked as the broom swept upwards, close to the back wall of Brimstone Buildings.
    Then the broom swooped through a window and landed in a bedroom.
    â€˜This is my room,’ said Weava. She sat on the bed and nodded to Jemima to sit down, too.
    Jemima was glad to obey. Her insides felt as if she’d gone up in a lift very fast and then dropped back down again.
    â€˜See,’ said Weava. ‘I told you witches were——’ She stopped short and stared at the foot of the bed.
    â€˜What?’ said Jemima.
    â€˜Hush,’ said Weava. ‘No, no,’ she said, still staring at nothing. ‘This is part of my bad deed.’ She paused. ‘Yes, I’m sure. Take off your DNM spell, so I can introduce you.’
    Jemima’s eyes widened as a black kitten appeared on the foot of the bed. At least, it