The Worst Witch and the Wishing Star

  JILL MURPHY

  PUFFIN

  Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  JILL MURPHY started putting books together (literally with a stapler) when she was six. Her Worst Witch series, the first book of which was published in 1974, is hugely successful. She has also written and illustrated several award-winning picture books for younger children.

  Books by Jill Murphy

  THE WORST WITCH

  THE WORST WITCH STRIKES AGAIN

  A BAD SPELL FOR THE WORST WITCH

  TEH WORST WITCH ALL AT SEA

  THE WORST WITCH SAVES THE DAY

  THE WORST WITCH TO THE RESCUE

  THE WORST WITCH AND THE WISHING STAR

  DEAR HOUND

  CHAPTER ONE

  qualling rain and a biting wind buffeted the pupils of Miss Cackle’s Academy as they struggled to reach the school in time for the first day of the Winter Term. The girls’ cloaks kept blowing inside out, then flapping round their faces like wet flannels, and most of the older pupils (who were expected to keep the cats sitting on their brooms at all times) had given up and crammed the cats into their baskets for safety.

  Mildred Hubble, who was not one of the best fliers in the school, was valiantly trying her best to keep Tabby (her nervous striped cat) perched on the broom just in case anyone was watching when she arrived. She had wedged Tabby between her back and a laundry-bag stuffed with books, and she could feel his claws through her gymslip as the unruly cloak flapped and whirled above her shoulders.

  ‘Ouch!’ she yelled. ‘It’s all right, Tab, we’re nearly there … hang on just a teeny bit longer – OW! I didn’t mean literally hang on! OW! OUCH!’

  Mildred was quite right to be careful; someone was watching. Miss Cackle, their kindly headmistress, and Miss Hardbroom, her ferocious second-in-command, were lurking just out of sight in Miss Cackle’s study, watching from the window as the girls wobbled or zoomed (depending on the gusting wind) over the wall and into the concrete playground.

  ‘Well, just look at that, Miss Hardbroom,’ exclaimed Miss Cackle. ‘Mildred Hubble is the only senior pupil to have her cat on the broom, as stated in the regulations.’

  ‘Hmmm,’ said Miss Hardbroom. ‘Don’t get too excited, Miss Cackle, I’m sure she’ll manage some little disaster before too long – she usually does.’

  ‘Now, now, Miss Hardbroom,’ chided Miss Cackle. ‘It’s the first day of term and we must begin it with hope in our hearts – even when contemplating one of our more challenging pupils!’

  Down in the windswept courtyard Miss Bat and Miss Mould were huddling beneath a huge dripping umbrella in the shelter of the castle wall, directing the pupils to put any free-roaming cats into their baskets, leave everything in the cloakrooms and go straight to the Great Hall, as it was obviously far too wet to assemble in the playground. As usual, the first-years (who seemed smaller with each passing year to Mildred and her friends) arrived on foot, looking bedraggled and terrified as they entered the prison-like school and heard the gate clang shut behind them.

  To the flying pupils’ horror, the playground was full of puddles, so that the relief of arriving in one piece was ruined as the girls swooped and hovered, desperately trying to avoid landing in the water. One of the first rules of broomstick management is that brooms are badly affected if they are too near the surface of a large amount of water, which can make them stop working abruptly, and the last thing that anyone wanted was to crash-land in a puddle on the very first day.

  Mildred was delighted to land safely, well clear of a deep puddle to her left. She jumped off and commanded the broom to wait and hover while she reached round and detached Tabby, claw by claw, from his rucksack-like position under her cloak. She shoved him back on to the broom next to the laundry-bag just in time to grab her best friend Maud, who had made it safely over the wall but was now heading for a small lake along the edge of the playground. Maud was completely tangled up in her cloak and Mildred managed to catch her in the nick of time.

  ‘Hold on, Maud!’ yelled Mildred, flinging an arm round Maud’s waist and restraining the broom with the other. ‘Tell it to stop or you’ll end up in that huge puddle!’

  ‘Stay, broom!’ shrieked Maud, unwrapping the cloak from her head and seizing her best friend in a bear hug. ‘Thank goodness you saw me, Mil – you saved my bacon.’

  Unfortunately they were not quick enough to save their friend Enid, who lurched suddenly over the wall in an uncontrollable nosedive straight into the lake of water which Maud had managed to avoid.

  ‘Oh no!’ cried Enid, spraying a plume of water behind her as she collapsed into a messy heap of bags and cat basket, with her cloak billowing up around her on the surface of the puddle. ‘Now everything’s ruined – just look at it all!’

  Enid’s cat, who was locked in the basket, was yowling his head off as the water seeped in round his paws. The broomstick was floating in the water, looking as if it would never do anything magic again, and Enid, though trying to keep calm, had burst into tears. Mildred and Maud helped Enid to her feet and dragged all her luggage clear of the huge puddle as quickly as possible.

  ‘It’s all right, Enid,’ said Maud reassuringly, wringing out the hem of her friend’s dripping cloak. ‘It’s not as bad as it looks and your broom will be fine as soon as it’s dried out.’

  ‘Hey, you two!’ said Mildred suddenly. ‘Nice to see you again!’ She held her arms out and the three best friends flung their arms round each other and jumped about in the rain – unexpectedly pleased, despite the horrible weather and the long Winter Term ahead, that they were back together again, come what may.

  CHAPTER TWO

  ildred couldn’t help feeling secretly thrilled that she wasn’t the one squelching and dripping up the stairs as they made their way from the cloakrooms to the Great Hall. If anyone made a dramatic entrance to Miss Cackle’s on the first day of term it was usually Mildred, and she felt grateful for her perfect landing, especially in front of all those juniors, blowing around the playground like dustbin lids on a windy rubbish day.

  ‘Do you think anyone saw?’ asked Enid anxiously, wringing the last drops of water from her long, thick plait.

  ‘I don’t honestly think it matters too much,’ said Maud kindly. ‘People were plummeting into puddles all over the place, especially the younger ones – they can’t give the entire school a detention in the first five minutes!’

  ‘Maud’s right,’ agreed Mildred, feeling happy to be in the unusual position of offering comfort to someone else. ‘It’s not our fault that the school’s on top of a mountain; the weather’s nearly always doing something horrible up here – do you remember once when there was a blizzard on the first day of Summer Term?’

  ‘And it was a day like this,’ continued Maud, ‘when Mildred rescued her tortoise from the top of the pine tree outside the school gates. Gales and rain are part of the deal up her
e, Enid, no one will give a hoot about anyone in particular on such a ghastly first day.’

  ‘Did you notice anything unusual in the playground?’ asked Mildred, changing the subject. ‘We were all so busy trying not to crash that it’s only just dawned on me.’

  ‘Not really,’ said Maud. ‘Everything looked the same as ever. What was it?’

  ‘I’ve just realized that Miss Drill wasn’t there,’ continued Mildred. ‘She’s always the first person you see when you arrive, standing there in her gym kit, bossing everyone about and shepherding the new arrivals, but this time it was Miss Bat and Mouldy.’ (Mouldy was the girls’ nickname for Miss Mould, the art mistress.)

  ‘Perhaps she’s not well,’ suggested Enid. ‘Or she might have retired – she looks quite old.’

  ‘They all look quite old,’ commented Mildred. ‘I don’t think Miss Drill is older than anyone else – anyway, it doesn’t really matter where she is. We only have her for gym three or four times a week – all those broomstick exercise routines and cross-country runs, euch!’

  ‘Perhaps we’ll get a new gym mistress,’ said Enid.

  ‘A new one might be worse!’ said Maud. ‘She might be young and keen.’

  ‘Or older and more crotchety!’ laughed Mildred.

  They had reached the doors of the Great Hall, which were propped open so that the girls could pass inside more quickly.

  Mildred linked arms with her two best friends. ‘Here we go again,’ she said. ‘Time to find out what’s in store for us this year.’

  CHAPTER THREE

  he first thing that Mildred noticed as the new Form Four shuffled into line and glanced up at the teachers’ platform was Miss Drill, dressed in a grey tweed suit and a purple blouse, her wavy grey hair scragged into an untidy French pleat instead of her usual jaunty ponytail.

  ‘Look at Miss Drill!’ whispered Mildred to Maud. ‘I’ve never seen her out of shorts – doesn’t it look strange to see her in a proper outfit?’

  ‘Enough chatting, girls!’ warned Miss Hardbroom. ‘Get into your places at once! You’ve had long enough to greet each other and calm down after your extremely disorderly arrival – don’t think I didn’t notice the puddle incident, Enid Nightshade – not a very good start, even if the weather has been a trifle extreme.’

  Enid closed her eyes as if in pain.

  ‘Welcome back, girls,’ beamed Miss Cackle, taking over hastily from her second-in-command before the whole school was plunged into a state of terrified misery. ‘I’m sure the dreadful weather hasn’t been much help to any of us! Not to worry, there are many exciting new announcements to warm your hearts on this first day of the Winter Term, including a brilliant opportunity for one lucky witches’ school – and I sincerely hope it will be this one – to win a new indoor swimming pool.’

  There were gasps of delighted amazement from the girls.

  ‘There now!’ continued Miss Cackle, clapping her hands together gleefully, like a little girl. ‘I knew that would cheer you all up!’

  ‘I thought we were saving that piece of information until the end of all the other announcements!’ muttered Miss Hardbroom.

  ‘Oh dear, Miss Hardbroom,’ mumbled Miss Cackle. ‘You’re quite right – as usual. I’m afraid I got a bit carried away – I’ve been longing to tell the girls all about it. Perhaps you could take over and –’

  ‘Certainly,’ said Miss Hardbroom crisply. ‘Now then, girls, there are several new things to tell you about. First of all, Miss Drill has decided to give up her position as gym mistress, due to a knee injury sustained during her annual rock-climbing summer holiday. Not wishing to lose such a dedicated teacher, we have persuaded Miss Drill to stay on as class teacher to this year’s Form Four. We are trying hard to find a new gym mistress for later in the term, so Form Four can count themselves lucky that Miss Drill will be able to keep them fit and healthy until gym classes are up and running again.’

  Maud and Enid glanced sideways at Mildred, who was looking desperate.

  ‘During the holidays,’ said Miss Hardbroom, ‘there have been exciting improvements in all the bedrooms. Glass has been fitted in every pupil’s window.’

  There were whoops of joy from the entire school, except the bewildered first-years, who had no idea that their bedrooms would not have had proper windows in the first place; but there was great rejoicing from all the old hands as they imagined snuggling up in a cosy bed, without rain and wind blowing on to their pillows. In particularly bad weather, they had all had to move their beds away from the open stone windows.

  ‘Settle down now, girls!’ barked Miss Hardbroom. ‘What is it, Mildred?’

  Mildred had put up her hand.

  ‘Excuse me, Miss Hardbroom,’ she began shyly, as everyone turned to look at her. ‘I was just wondering how the bats are going to get in and out.’

  Miss Cackle smiled and put a staying hand on Miss Hardbroom’s arm to show that she would answer the question.

  ‘I knew you’d be anxious about that, Mildred,’ said Miss Cackle. ‘Don’t worry, my dear, we’ve put a small swinging flap on each window – a sort of bat flap, you might say – we’ve already checked and they’ve obviously got used to the idea. The usual furry flock was huddled along your picture rail when I last looked.’

  ‘Thank you, Miss Cackle,’ said Mildred, breathing a sigh of relief.

  ‘Would you like to carry on with the final announcement, Miss Cackle?’ asked Miss Hardbroom, sounding a little tetchy. ‘Or shall I?’

  ‘Actually, Miss Hardbroom,’ said Miss Cackle, feeling braver than usual, ‘I think I will, if you don’t mind.’

  ‘Of course I don’t,’ said Miss Hardbroom primly. ‘You are the headmistress, Miss Cackle.’

  ‘Well then, girls!’ said Miss Cackle, looking quite radiant. ‘This brings me to the swimming-pool competition, and not just any old outdoor, freezing-cold swimming pool but an indoor one, to be used all year round. Such a magnificent prize – goodness me, we will all be so fit –’

  ‘We have to actually win the competition first, Miss Cackle,’ said Miss Hardbroom sourly, ‘which will mean weeks of diligent practice, not to mention coming up with a prize-winning idea in the first place.’

  ‘Yes, of course, Miss Hardbroom,’ said Miss Cackle. ‘I was coming to that in a moment.’

  ‘Not a moment too soon, if you ask me!’ said Miss Hardbroom, her piercing gaze managing to convince every pupil that she was looking into their very soul. ‘There will be a great deal of extra work involved in getting the competing pupils up to scratch if we are to be in the running for such a prize.’

  ‘Thank you, Miss Hardbroom,’ said Miss Cackle tactfully. ‘I hope you were listening, girls! The competition is between all the witches’ schools in the country and we have some very stiff competition, especially as there seem to be new schools for sorcery popping up like mushrooms these days. Miss Pentangle’s Academy is a strong contender and Moonridge High School is also doing rather well. The details of the competition are to be found on the noticeboard in the passageway next to the cloakrooms, to be discussed with your form teachers tomorrow. Also there, you will find the lists giving certain selected pupils their form tasks. Read them well – we expect any pupil lucky enough to have been chosen, to take her task seriously, to ensure the smooth running of everyday life at Miss Cackle’s Academy, the best witches’ academy in the land!’

  Miss Cackle smiled happily down at her girls, who all realized that they could risk cheering and looking happy for a brief moment, before Miss Hardbroom brought them back down to earth.

  ‘To conclude!’ said Miss Hardbroom, motioning to the girls to be silent. ‘You may spend the next few hours drying out your clothes and tending to your cats in your rooms. First-years, stay behind and I will explain the rules so that you will know where you cannot go and what you are not allowed to do. Miss Bat?’

  Miss Bat the chanting mistress, who was beginning to look more scruffily vague with each passing year, seated hers
elf at the ancient piano and began to play a stirring piece of music. Mildred would never have admitted it but the strident rhythm of the piano lifted her spirits as she marched her way out of the Great Hall and into the new term.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  et’s go and check out the tasks,’ said Maud as they clattered down the stairs.

  ‘I think we get more difficult stuff, now that we’re in Form Four,’ said Enid gloomily.

  ‘Well I hope I haven’t got anything at all,’ said Mildred.

  ‘Hello, you three,’ said someone coming up behind them, draping an arm round Mildred and Maud’s shoulders.

  ‘Oh hello, Ethel,’ said Mildred, turning to see that it was indeed Ethel, her least favourite person. ‘We were just wondering what our tasks might be.’