Polly plants her hands firmly on the wooden handle and tries to remember what she knows about broomstick flying. Apparently it’s all in the weight of your body, she remembers her sister telling her, and she leans abruptly to the left. The broomstick swerves and Miss Spinnaker falls hard against her.

‘Gently!’ her teacher yells. ‘And don’t look down.’

Of course this last bit of advice only serves to make Polly look down, and she sees the ground spinning up to meet them. Her stomach lurches. Miss Spinnaker pulls Polly tightly against her and, as she leans backwards, the broomstick lifts skywards again.

‘I want to get off,’ Buster moans. But both Polly and Miss Spinnaker ignore him.

Polly leans to the right and they peel away towards a line of trees in the opposite direction, inky black against the navy sky.

‘Good thinking, Polly,’ Miss Spinnaker says. ‘Keep going straight. That’s the Amber Skull Forest up ahead.’

Polly feels her chest fill with pride. She thinks she might be beginning to get the hang of this broomstick-flying business.

Mrs Halloway jerks her broomstick around

and sends another jolt
   in their direction,

but this time Miss Spinnaker is prepared. She spins her wrist in circles and throws out a twisting bolt of light just as Mrs Halloway’s spark nearly hits them. The spark bounces off Miss Spinnaker’s well-timed bolt and spirals into the night. The dark forest looms ahead.

‘What should I do?’ Polly yells.

‘Just keep going,’ Miss Spinnaker yells back.

They enter the forest, crashing through branches and leaves, then Polly hears a roar of flames rise up behind her. She feels a searing heat against her back.

‘Don’t stop,’ Miss Spinnaker shouts. ‘And whatever you do, don’t look behind you.’

This time, Polly does what she is told, and they zigzag through the trees while the forest is devoured by flames.

Polly feels her heart sink. She knows the wall of fire will protect them from Mrs Halloway and her cronies, but she feels deeply saddened that a whole forest needed to die just to save them.

‘Don’t worry,’ Miss Spinnaker murmurs into her ear, as if she’s read Polly’s mind. ‘An illusion spell can look and feel so much like the real thing even grown witches have been known to be fooled.’

Polly gasps. An illusion spell! Her teacher never ceases to impress her, but she had no idea she was this powerful.

Miss Spinnaker takes over directing the handle and slows the broomstick down to its former speed. They chug through the forest a few metres above the leafy floor. All around them forest animals screech, swing and flutter through the trees in fear of the burning wall of fire. Even though the flames are no longer rolling towards them, it still belches out clouds of black smoke. Polly takes in a deep lungful and discovers it tastes of fresh air.

‘It will dissolve soon,’ Miss Spinnaker reassures her. ‘The animals will be OK.’ She pats Polly’s arm. ‘Good work with the broomstick flying. If I didn’t know better I’d think you’d done it all your life.’

‘Thanks Miss Spinnaker,’ Polly grins, her heart pounding and her hands clammy on the broomstick handle.

Polly hears Buster moan. ‘Are we there yet?’ he groans weakly. ‘My tummy hurts.’

‘Just a little longer,’ Miss Spinnaker soothes.

‘Are we still going back to your place?’ Polly asks Miss Spinnaker. She twists around to see Buster leaning his whole weight against her teacher. His eyes are shut, his long arms are draped around her neck, and he has shrunk into a tight, furry ball. Dear old Buster, she thinks. He’s the bravest monster I know and he’s afraid of heights!

‘No, not now,’ Miss Spinnaker says. ‘Now that Deidre Halloway knows you are with me she will likely be heading straight to my house. We can’t go there.’

Polly feels a worm of worry in her belly. ‘Where will we go then?’

‘I’m taking you somewhere safe,’ says Miss Spinnaker. ‘It’s not far off now. See that little light through the trees?’

Polly squints and, sure enough, sees a pale yellow glow in the distance. ‘Who in blinking bats would live there?’ she asks.

‘That, Polly, my dear,’ says Miss Spinnaker, sighing deeply, ‘is my mother’s house.’