That was six weeks ago, and since then, things have gone from bad to worse.
Instead of the new trainers and jeans I was promised, I was black hat, black dress, black apron and black boots.
Instead of going to St Munchin’s and making lots of new friends, I was up at dawn every day, working. I’m only nine, and even I know that’s against the law.
The aunts didn’t care. They had me cleaning the house, digging up the garden, and slaving over the cauldron. They made me cook really horrible food, such as beetle legs in jelly and toenail toffee, and then bottle it. The food we ate was disgusting too. On a typical day, we would eat fish eyes on toast, live worm salad, and eel pie with slime on the side. There was never a sausage or a chip in sight.
But worst of all, I never got to speak to a soul, except Grizz and Wormella. The only friend I had was Charlie, a black cat. He took a liking to me after I gave him my fish eyes.
Sometimes, when I was working in the kitchen, I’d look out of the window and see a blonde girl, about my own age, walking down the street. She wore a St Munchin’s blue uniform and she looked really cool. I’d see her playing with friends or riding her bike, and I’d wave and try and get her attention, but she never saw me. So I’d sigh and carry on working.
One morning, in the kitchen, the aunts were hunched over some stained yellow papers, and I was stirring the boiling black cauldron as usual.
‘This one sounds good, Wormy,’ said Grizz, licking her thin lips. ‘Tree-beetle custard. Yum yum. It’s been ages since we had some of that.’
‘Yes, sister,’ twittered Wormella, who rarely said anything else.
Grizz shot me an evil look.
‘We can send the girl out to get tree beetles tonight,’ she said. ‘She can go after dark, when it’s nice and quiet in the woods.’
My grip tightened on the wooden spoon. This was the last straw: Nice and quiet? More like spooky and DANGEROUS! I stopped stirring, whipped out the spoon and flung it across the dingy kitchen.
It soared over the heads of Grizz and Wormella, and missed Charlie by a whisker.
‘That’s it!’ I shouted. ‘That is finally, definitely, totally IT!’ I took off my pointy black hat and threw it on the floor.
‘What did you say?!’ roared Grizz. She pointed one of her talons at me. ‘How dare you!’
‘If you think I’m going to spend my life stirring beetles in this stupid cauldron – you can think again!’ I shouted.
‘Pick up that spoon and get on with your work, girl!’ said Grizz. ‘Or else!’
‘Or else what?’ I was so cross I didn’t care what I said. I made two fists with my hands.
‘I won’t do it! I’ve had enough!’ shouted. ‘I don’t know what’s going on here, but I’m just an ordinary girl and I should be in school, not boiling to death in this dump!’
Grizz leapt from her seat and stalked towards me, while Wormella hid her fat face in her frilly apron.
‘School?’ shouted Grizz. ‘Do you think we adopted you from that dirty little kid’s home so you could swan about at school?’
That was typical. She was always going on about how I should be grateful for being rescued from Sunny Hills. As if it was my fault I didn’t have any parents. As if Sunny Hills wasn’t much, much nicer than Crag Road.
‘At least at Sunny Hills, I had friends,’ I shouted. ‘But here, I have nobody except Charlie – and he’s not even human!’
Charlie jumped from his seat and wound himself around my ankles.
‘No offence, Charlie,’ I said.
‘Friends?’ said Grizz. ‘We’re witches! We don’t have friends, we have victims!’
She threw her head back and cackled long and loud. My blood froze in my veins and even Wormella seemed to cower away from her sister.
So that was it. Grizz had finally admitted what we were all doing. Witchcraft! And I was helping! I tried to face Grizz down.
‘Look at this kip!’ I said, waving my arms around the kitchen. ‘It’s disgusting! And I don’t believe you have the first clue what you’re doing. Witches – ha! – you’re rubbish!’
I took off my black apron, threw it on top of the black hat and stamped on them both.
There was a sharp intake of breath from Wormella. Grizz’s face darkened in fury and her eyes narrowed to slits.
‘Ungrateful little …!’ shouted Grizz. ‘Wormella made that specially!’
‘And that’s another thing,’ I said. ‘We all look like we’re at a funeral. What have you done with my real clothes? Where are my jeans?’
‘Witches don’t wear jeans, dear,’ said Wormella.
Grizz whipped a black wand out of her apron pocket, and pointed it at me, chanting:
‘Short and freckly on the rug,
Turn this girl into a slug!’
Nothing happened – if you don’t count the fact that my heart nearly stopped in fright. You see, although I didn’t believe in witchcraft, these two looked pretty convincing.
Still, I needed to put on a brave face, so I cocked my head on one side and folded my arms.
‘Told you so,’ I said. ‘You’re not very good, are you?’
‘Oh, hellfire!’ shouted Grizz. She threw down her wand and rushed at me, seizing me by my ponytail and dragging me towards the stairs. Wormella trotted after us, getting in the way.
‘Oh dear, Grizz,’ Wormella said. ‘You’re not going to leave her in the cellar?’
‘Stand back, Wormella,’ Grizz said. ‘This little twerp needs taming. A few hours in the dark should do it.’
I stifled a whimper. Oh no, I thought. Not the dark – anything but the dark …
Grizz pushed past Wormella, opened the cellar door and threw me down some stone steps into a black, musty dungeon.
‘School, indeed! Waste of a young witch’s time!’ said Grizz.
‘I’m … not … a … witch,’ I shouted, thudding to the bottom of the steps. ‘And neither are you, Grizz, whatever you may think!’
‘Don’t touch anything!’ said Grizz. She flounced out, slamming the door and bolting it on the outside. I sprang to my feet, ran to the door and pounded on it.
‘Let me out!’ I shouted. There was no answer, except the sound of laughter …