Miss Spinnaker pulls up in front of a small stone hut, built into the mound of a grassy hill and completely hidden by trees.

Polly feels her heart butterfly with curiosity. Miss Spinnaker’s mother! She knows that teachers have homes and parents and all those sorts of things, but it still feels very strange to think of Miss Spinnaker having a life outside of school. When Polly was little she even thought her teachers lived at school!

Buster tumbles off his end of the broomstick and curls into a ball. ‘Oh, my tummy,’ he wails. ‘I don’t feel good.’

Polly giggles. ‘But you are always floating up into the sky, Buster! You shouldn’t be afraid of heights.’

Buster frowns. ‘It’s not the height, Polly, it’s the speed. And anyway, I told you, I’m not scared. Just airsick.’

‘Come along, Buster,’ Miss Spinnaker says, smiling kindly. ‘We’ll find something inside to fix you up.’

Polly skips along a stepping-stone path with her teacher, patting her pocket to check the stones are still there. It winds through the dark and shadowy suggestion of a vegetable garden.

‘Are you sure your mother will be all right with us turning up this late at night?’ she asks. She looks back at Buster, still lying on the grass, and lowers her voice. ‘And with a … you know … monster?’

Miss Spinnaker stops and turns to face Polly, a wry smile on her face. ‘Don’t worry. My mother has so few guests she’d welcome anyone I bring into this home. Witch or monster.’ She calls out to Buster, who is clutching his stomach and groaning. ‘Come along now, Buster. Stop making a fuss. We won’t wait out in the cold for you all evening.’

Miss Spinnaker walks up to the heavy wooden door and reaches for the solid brass knocker, moulded into the shape of a monster’s fist. But before she has the chance to grasp it, the door swings open and the front porch is flooded with warm light.

‘Iris!’ comes a husky little voice.

Polly stares at Miss Spinnaker’s mother, who is not at all what she expected. Her teacher has proven to be no end of surprises over the past twenty-four hours, but somehow Polly had imagined Miss Spinnaker, Head of Spells and powerful Black Witch, to have a rather grand and imposing mother, a little like the headmistress at Miss Madden’s Academy.

Instead, the witch at the front door is squat and round. She has frizzy dyed hair that puffs out from her scalp like a pink cloud, and a big stain down the front of her baggy floral nightdress. When she sees who is hiding behind her daughter, she smiles, and Polly notices she has several teeth missing.

‘Ooh, how delightful!’

she coos. ‘You’ve brought me some visitors!’

‘We’re not staying long,’ Miss Spinnaker says. ‘Just for a night or two, that’s all. Polly and her friend are … er … in a little bit of trouble with the Committee.’

‘Well, come in! Come in!’ Miss Spinnaker’s mother says. ‘Plenty of room in here. Mortimer!’ she yells. ‘We’ve got guests. You’ll have to make up the beds in the spare room.’

Polly follows Miss Spinnaker into the little stone house. ‘Mortimer?’ she asks. ‘Is he your dad?’ She wonders why her teacher hasn’t mentioned him before.

Miss Spinnaker shakes her head. ‘No. Kind of. It’s complicated. Hurry up, Buster,’ she calls out, and marches ahead of Polly down the corridor.

Polly feels a little giggle of excitement bubble up through her. Even in her wildest dreams, she never would have imagined doing all the things she’s done tonight. A dangerous broomstick chase, a Fire Illusion spell in the woods, and even meeting her teacher’s parents. Polly is beginning to like this adventure already.

‘Come on, Buster,’ she calls out, walking back to help her best friend to his feet. ‘You’ll be OK in a little while.’

Polly grabs Buster’s paw and manages to pull him into a wobbly upright position. He is still as small as Polly and a sickly shade of grey.

Suddenly his eyes grow wide. His cheeks puff out and he claps his paw over his mouth. But it’s no use. Half-eaten ju-ju berries spray through his fingers, narrowly missing Polly’s feet.

‘Ew, Buster!’ she squeals, jumping backwards in disgust.

‘Oh,’ Buster groans, wiping the sticky juice off his fur. The colour begins to return to his face and he puffs out to his normal size again. ‘That’s better. That’s much better.’ He wipes a paw across his mouth, then starts to walk towards the door. ‘Come on then!’ he says.

Polly laughs, skipping away from the puddle of mushed-up ju-ju fruits.

‘You know what?’ Buster says, putting on his very serious voice. ‘I think I may have learned something tonight.’

Polly rolls her eyes at him. ‘What’s that?’ she giggles.

Buster grins. He puts a paw on Polly’s shoulder and bends down towards her. Polly jerks back a little, her nose wrinkling at the smell of fermented fruit on his breath.

Buster shakes his head and strokes his big hairy stomach. ‘Ju-ju fruits and broomstick rides. Just. Don’t. Mix.’