Witch's Business (10 page)

“Oh, bother you, then!” said Jess, and chased on after Vernon. And Vernon, unable to see his own feet because of Jenny, tripped over a croquet hoop, dropped Jenny, and fell on his face.

Buster, who had been hanging back at the edge of the game, probably a little nervous of the guests and their mallets, summoned his courage, gave out his very worst word, and led the gang charging out among the guests.

“I say!” said the guest again. “Look here!”

Frankie, with her head down, looking very determined, raced across to Jenny and dragged her up. Frank ran to help Vernon and tripped over the same hoop himself. Jess was left stranded between a row of startled guests and the charging gang. The guests were obviously useless. It was just as useless to run away. So Jess put her head down and charged at the gang.

“You beastly horrible bullies!” she screamed.

To her amazement, all nine of them stopped dead. Buster, who was the nearest, began to back away, screwing his face up against her. “Hey!” he said. “You body-parts well stop that, Jessica Pirie. What are you
doing
?” Behind him, Stafford fell over another croquet hoop in his hurry to get away. Jess could hardly believe it and could not understand it at all, but she went on toward them.

“Stop it!” shrieked two younger ones.

“I say! This is a bit thick!” said a guest. “What's going on?”

“You boil your head,” said Buster, “if you can't stop her.”

The guest opened and shut his mouth. Before he could say anything, a French window in the side of the house came crashing open, and out onto the lawn came leaping a rather tubby man with a ginger mustache. After him came Martin.

“You bunch of little hoodlums!” roared this man. He came leaping and bounding down on Buster. “Get out of here, or I'll call the police!” he shouted. Jess realized he must be Mr. Taylor, and she blessed Martin for fetching him.

“Save your breath,” said Buster. “We're just going.” This was true. The rest of the gang, at the mere sight of Mr. Taylor, went scuttling away across the croquet lawn. Stafford was picking himself up to follow. Buster was poised on one leg, ready to run, but he just could not resist being rude first. He put out his tongue before he ran.

Mr. Taylor gave a roar like a lion's and fetched him a swipe that must have made his head ring. “That's for your impertinence!” he said. “Get out!” Buster staggered, shook his head—not meaning to say no, but because his ears were singing—and ran like a weasel after the rest. Mr. Taylor swung round at Jess. “And you! What do you think you're doing, messing up the croquet like this?”

“We're sorry,” said Jess.

“She's a friend of mine,” Martin said quickly. “They all are, Dad.”

“They were chasing us, Mr. Taylor,” Vernon explained, limping up beside Martin.

Mr. Taylor looked them all over, including Frankie and Jenny, pulling his mustache suspiciously. “Oh, they are, are they?” he said. Then he took a dive round at Martin. “Then, if they're your friends, boy, you should know better than to let them create this kind of disturbance. All over the croquet! It's too bad, Martin! Get them away. Take the lot of them inside and give them tea, or something. Only—” Mr. Taylor put his hands in the air and roared again, until everyone's ears throbbed.
“Only get them out of it!
”

“Yes, Dad,” said Martin.

Five minutes later, they were all sitting stiffly in a small, clean sitting room, and Mrs. Taylor was setting out tea things on several little round tables. She would not let Jess help, nor Frankie and Jenny. For some reason, she seemed to think that the two Adams girls were Jess's sisters.

“Aren't they sweet!” she said. “You must feel like a little mother to them.”

“Not quite, really,” Jess said, while Frankie and Jenny sat side by side on a sofa like two fierce mice and glared from Jess to Mrs. Taylor.

“I
love
little girls!” said Mrs. Taylor. “I've always wanted one of my own. I make a lot of fuss of Vernon's little sisters. Don't you think they're sweet?”

“Yes,” said Jess, and Vernon wriggled rather.

Mrs. Taylor, perhaps because she liked girls so much, was a little sharp with the boys. She told Martin not to fidget and Vernon to mind his feet against the table. She asked Frank whether his hands were clean. Frank's hands, unfortunately, after searching the stables, were very grimy indeed. Martin was sent to show Frank where to wash. Jess sat on her hands, because there was still toffee on them, which had somehow collected a great deal of dirt, and was afraid that the next half hour was going to be rather trying. To her intense relief, just as Martin and Frank came soberly back, Mrs. Taylor was called away to see to something else, and they were left to have tea by themselves.

“Sorry,” said Martin. “My people are sometimes rather a pain.”

“Gave us tea, though,” Vernon said consolingly, and began to pour it out.

Frankie and Jenny were still rather stormy. Frankie announced that neither of them were sweet, and Jenny added that they did not want any tea.

Vernon sighed. “You go without, then,” he said. “I don't think you're sweet.”

As this did not seem to soothe Frankie and Jenny, Jess tried. The only thing she could think of was to explain properly about Silas and the tooth, what Biddy had said about the heirloom, and what it seemed Buster had done. To her relief, it worked. Before she was halfway through the explanation, Frankie, not thinking what she was doing, reached out and picked up a sandwich. Vernon winked at Frank and put a cup of tea beside each of them. While Jess explained the nine tailors, Jenny picked up her cup and drank it down, looking at Jess all the time. Then she passed it to Vernon for more. Martin nearly spat his tea out, trying not to laugh. By the time Jess had finished, Frankie, too, was sipping her tea.

“So you do see,” Jess said, “the only way we can cure Jenny and Silas seems to be to find the necklace. So could you tell us more about it, please?”

Jenny looked at her refilled teacup as if it astonished her. Then she looked at Vernon, rather accusingly, and Vernon tried not to laugh.

“Biddy
is
horrible,” Jenny said. “I like Silas. He helps me with my sums.”

“They're in the same class,” Frankie explained to Jess.

“I bet you get a whole heap wrong, then,” Vernon said.

“Yes,” said Jenny, “but if he didn't help me, I'd get them
all
wrong. Only we don't know any more about the heirloom than we've said.”

“I bet you do,” Martin and Frank said together.

“It's you just being little kids,” Vernon explained. “You say one thing, and you think we know the rest—like Silas.” Frankie's chin went up. Vernon said hurriedly, “I'll show you. Ask you questions, and you'll see. When did you last see this necklace?”

“On Mother's dressing table,” said Jenny.

“She used to let us sit on the stool and show us the things,” said Frankie. “She showed Jenny hers, and she showed me mine. Mine's diamonds.”

“There were lots of other things, too,” said Jenny. “They all went.”

“You see?” said Vernon. “You didn't say that before. Where was this dressing table?”

“In the big room at the front, upstairs,” said Frankie.

“You mean, in this house?” asked Martin.

The two girls nodded. “We told you. We lived here,” said Frankie. “It's our house really.”

“And when did they go?” Jess asked.

Frankie and Jenny looked at each other. “After Mother went,” said Jenny. “Mother went when we lived here, before the money went.”

“You mean she died?” Vernon asked, rather tactlessly, Jess thought.

They both shook their heads indignantly. “No. She just went. We told you.”

Jess made faces at Vernon.

Vernon said, “Someone told them that, I bet, not to upset them. And when did the necklaces and things go?” he asked.

“After we moved to the Mill House,” said Jenny. “We heard Aunt saying.”

“You're sure they weren't sold?” asked Frank.

“No, they weren't,” said Frankie, “because they were too precious. But we know Biddy did it, because we heard Aunt say it was after she'd been once. They had the police.”

“So it was at
your
house!” said Frank. “If you'd told us properly, we needn't have wasted our time looking here. Have you looked in your house?”

“Not really,” said Jenny. “We thought they'd be here.”

“Why?” said Martin.

“They're little kids. They don't think clear,” Vernon explained.

“Because Biddy used to come here a lot, when we lived here,” Jenny said. “But we've been all over everywhere here, lots of times.”

“You're telling me you have!” said Martin. “But I don't think they're here. Do you?”

“No,” said Frankie. “We'd better look in our house.”

“Not unless there's us there,” said Vernon. “Understand? If Biddy's found out, then she's going to send Buster's lot to stop you as soon as you start. So you've got to wait until we're there to hold them off while you look. We'll get ourselves painted, and you can search while we're sitting there tomorrow.”

Frank made a face and groaned. “Isn't there some easier way?” he said. “Or do you
have
to make it as boring as possible?”

“It's not boring,” said Vernon cheerfully. “It's a good way to do it.”

“Unless the Aunt or Mr. Adams go and tell Biddy we're looking,” said Jess. “Frankie—No. Not you, Frank.
Frankie
.”

“Can't we call you Fanny?” Frank said to Frankie. “It's muddling. I keep thinking they mean me.”

“So do I,” said Frankie, “but I'm not going to be Fanny all the same. It's what they shout.”

“Be Frances, then,” said Jess, “and listen, anyway. Did your father give himself to Biddy like Buster? Or did your aunt? Because, if they did, it's awfully horrid and dangerous to do what Vernon wants.”

“I don't think so,” said Frankie. “We were too little to know much, but we think it was gradual. She sort of got them bit by bit, and I don't think they
like
doing what she wants. They just have to.”

“And it makes them all funny,” said Jenny. “Not sensible. Sort of sleepy.”

“Really?” said Frank unbelievingly. “Your aunt, too, as well as your father?”

“They're just imagining it,” Martin said. “I bet the Aunt's been that way peculiar all her life.”

“No, we're not,” said Jenny. “She's got them. Really.” True or not, it was easy to see both little girls believed it.

Jess, Frank, and Martin all found it next to impossible to believe. Jess felt it must be true, about Mr. Adams at least, because of the way Buster's gang had appeared and chased them, but Frank and Martin thought even that must have been an accident. Vernon was the only one who seemed to believe what Jenny said, and it made not the slightest difference to his plan. Silas was his brother, and, anyway, he liked being painted.

Once again, they all found themselves doing what Vernon said. They arranged to meet at the Mill House at ten the next morning, and Frankie and Jenny agreed to hunt for heirlooms while the others sat for the Aunt. After this, they thanked Mrs. Taylor for the tea and tried to leave.

Mrs. Taylor insisted on kissing Frankie and Jenny before she let them go. Jess and Frank left her hugging them, and the little girls glaring, and scurried away to their bicycles.

“What's the hurry?” said Frank, who had hoped to spend a little longer with Martin, whom he was coming rather to like.

“Bridge Street,” said Jess. “We must, Frank. And I'd rather die than be kissed by Mrs. Taylor, wouldn't you?”

“She wouldn't kiss me even if I offered to let her,” said Frank. “What's she got against boys, anyway? You'd think only girls were human, the way she goes on.”