‘I wish I could come to your Halloween party,’ moaned Bedwyr on Thursday evening as he and Grace-Ella sat in the horse chestnut tree at the bottom of the garden. ‘We never have one at our school and I’d love to get all dressed up like some kind of venomous spider or something. I bet you’ve got all sorts of magical things planned and I’ll be missing out on it all. And Auntie Julie and Evan are coming over on Friday, so me and Evan will be sat in my room completely ignoring each other because we so don’t get on. All he talks about is football and who’s winning the prentice league or whatever it’s called. Hey, maybe if I dressed as a witch you could smuggle me in…’
‘Do you know,’ said Grace-Ella, ‘I think you’re right. That’s exactly what we should do.’
They jumped to the ground and landed in a messy heap.
‘Come over tomorrow about five o’clock. I’ve plenty of costumes and I’m sure we can transform you into the best-looking witch at St Winifred’s,’ she said.
‘If you say so,’ said Bedwyr. ‘I hadn’t exactly planned on getting dressed up as a girl, but it does kind of sound fun. But even if you do manage to get me in, what about dancing? These beetle-scrunchers are great for stomping, but they aren’t all girly-twirly. They’ll see through my disguise straight away.’
‘Leave it with me,’ said Grace-Ella, a twinkle in her eye.
Back in her bedroom, Grace-Ella browsed through ‘Potions: Part One’ and stopped at the ‘D’ section.
‘Aha,’ she said. ‘Just the thing. Come on, Mr Whiskins. We’ve got work to do.’
With the cauldron set up, she read out the ingredients.
‘A handful of bird’s feathers and a spoonful of honey … some spidery webs and wobbly jelly … a couple of pine cones to add some prickle and a pinch of glitter to add some sparkle.’
She stirred the ingredients and watched the liquid bubble to a sparkling silver.
‘Now for the magic words: Twist and swirl and give it a whirl. A dancing delight to make you twirl.’
When the potion was ready, Grace-Ella carefully poured it into a glass bottle.
‘Now I definitely know who’s going to be St Winifred’s “Dancing Diva!”’ she said.
‘I’ll go and get changed while you two sort your outfits out,’ said Fflur the following evening, leaving Grace-Ella and Bedwyr in the summerhouse.
Pulling out her dressing-up box, Grace-Ella rummaged through. She found a pair of orange-and-black-striped tights, a purple tutu and a black top with green stars on it.
‘Put these on to start with,’ she said, passing the assortment of clothes to Bedwyr. ‘I’ll just go and get dressed with Fflur and then I’ll add the final touches.’
‘Are you serious?’ he said, holding the purple tutu like it was a rotten old aubergine. ‘I am going to look ridiculous with a capital R.’
When Grace-Ella got to her bedroom, Fflur was already dressed in her cat costume.
‘It’s rubbish, isn’t it?’ she said glumly. ‘I did try, but I’m just not very good at making things. The others will laugh when they see me. I’ll be the biggest joke of the night.’
Grace-Ella hated seeing her friend look so miserable. But she had to agree, the costume was a bit lacking in originality and did look a little rushed.
The lumpy tail was made from a black stocking stuffed with newspaper balls, which had then been stapled to her black leggings. The ears were triangles of flimsy black card taped onto a hairband and were already drooping. She had painted the end of her nose black and put three long stripes on each cheek as whiskers.
‘Don’t worry. I think I know what we can do,’ said Grace-Ella.
‘What do you think?’ asked Bedwyr as Grace-Ella and Fflur returned to the summerhouse.
‘Witchtastic!’ said Grace-Ella. ‘Now, put this wig and hat on and I’ll put a bit of face paint on you and no one will suspect a thing.’
Bedwyr pulled on the black wig and pointy witch’s hat. Grace-Ella painted his face green, smudged black around his eyes then dotted a couple of ugly warts on his nose and chin.
‘Now give me your best pout so that I can paint your lips purple,’ she said.
Bedwyr leaned forwards and puckered up his mouth. The brush tickled and he tried his best not to laugh, but ended up making hilarious raspberry noises which had Grace-Ella in giggles.
‘Ta-dah!’ she said when she was done. ‘The wickedest witch in St Winifred’s. Well, apart from Amelia that is.’
‘Hubble, bubble, boil some trouble,’ cackled Bedwyr as he looked in the mirror.
Grace-Ella turned her attention to Fflur. ‘Now, let’s see if we can get you looking a bit more like Mr Whiskins,’ she said, picking up her magic wand.
‘You are sure that you can un-cast the spell? As much as I like cats, I think I prefer to be human,’ said Fflur a little nervously.
‘Don’t worry, I’ll un-cast the spell after the party and you’ll be back to normal. Now, just stand still. Twitchy, witchy when the moon comes out, a tail and whiskers you shall sprout.’
The magic wand sparked at Fflur, who was standing with her eyes shut tight. The three friends waited for something to happen.
‘Oh, my face feels a little tingly,’ said Fflur after a few seconds.
Grace-Ella and Bedwyr watched open-mouthed as out of Fflur’s cheeks sprouted some long silky whiskers.
‘Oh … um … my bottom’s tingling now…’
She turned her head to look behind her. They stared in amazement as a long fluffy black tail began to grow. It grew longer and longer until it curled gracefully up her back.
Her nails changed next, transforming into cat-like claws. Her eyes took on a bright yellow glow and narrowed into a feline shape. The cardboard ears turned furry and twitched on her head.
‘Oh … my … kitty-katkins,’ remarked Bedwyr.
‘Purrrfect,’ purred Fflur, admiring herself in the mirror.
‘Right, I think we’re ready,’ said Grace-Ella. ‘Let’s go. Oh, I nearly forgot. I just need to grab something.’
She hurried over to the shelves and pushed something into the pocket of her black cloak.
‘What’s that?’ asked Bedwyr.
‘You’ll see,’ she said winking.
Mrs Bevin was waiting for the children in the kitchen.
‘Ready?’ she asked. ‘Oh, I thought it was only you and Fflur. You didn’t mention any other friends.’
‘Sorry, I forgot. This is um … Beatrice. She’s new at school so I said she could come with us.’
Mrs Bevin peered closely at Bedwyr. ‘You look familiar. Do I know your parents?’
‘No, I don’t think so,’ said Grace-Ella. ‘They’ve just moved here from … um…’
‘Oh goodness, Fflur. You can’t possibly be,’ said Mrs Bevin. ‘You’ve not long eaten tea. There’ll be food at the party.’
‘No, I’m not hungry,’ Fflur explained. ‘I said Hungary. Beatrice comes from Hungary.’
‘Oh, I see. How wonderful. Well, Beatrice, you must tell your mum about our “Coffi Cymraeg” every Thursday morning. It’s just a get together to help newcomers to learn some basic Welsh. We have a lot of fun and cake. She should come along and get to know some of us mothers from the school. Anyway, let’s get going. Don’t want you missing any of the party.’
Mrs Bevin looked suspiciously at Grace-Ella’s magic wand as they left the house.
‘I hope you’re not planning any funny business,’ she whispered.
‘Wouldn’t dream of it,’ Grace-Ella answered.