“I still think the MacArthur should have told us,” Mrs MacLean said angrily as they sat round the living room fire that evening. “I’ve never heard the like of it. Snow worms, indeed! They sound awful!”
“They were,” agreed Clara, “but, I told you, Mum. Prince Kalman saved me.”
“And he’s a different person now that he’s a Lord of the North,” Neil reminded her. “I told you — really fab! You’ll like him, Mum! We did!”
“If he saved you from these snow worms you keep talking about,” her father interrupted, “then he must have changed for the better!”
“Well, actually, I don’t think he had much of a choice,” Neil said, considering the matter. “He’d know that the Lords of the North would be as mad as fire if they heard he’d let her be eaten by snow worms and done nothing about it.”
“Don’t say things like that, Neil,” his mother scolded. “I still …”
“… think the MacArthur should have told you,” Neil repeated. “I know! I know! But look, Mum, can’t you understand! There was no time! If they’d waited for you to get to Edinburgh from here, Clara would have been eaten by snow worms!”
“Honestly, I’m fine, Mum,” Clara assured her yet again. “Now, can we change the subject, for goodness sake? How did you enjoy the play this afternoon?”
“Pumpkin Pie?” her father said, bursting out laughing at the very thought of it. “It was excellent! Really excellent! I’ve never seen such a good school concert.”
“And serving slices of pumpkin pie afterwards was such a good idea,” continued her mother. “It finished the afternoon off nicely. Really,” she mused, “I’m so glad you’re enjoying Netherfield. Muriel would be pleased to know you like it.”
“And you played your part very well, Clara,” added her father.
“Such a pity that the teacher who wrote it was ill, though,” Mrs. MacLean said, looking at the clock on the mantelpiece and thinking vaguely about supper.
Neil and Clara looked at one another and grinned. They hadn’t quite got round to telling their parents that Miss Markham was a witch, knowing that they would freak. The Headmaster had made polite excuses and covered up her absence fairly well but the fact that Miss Markham and Herr von Grozny had both disappeared at the same time had raised quite a few eyebrows among both staff and pupils. Rumours, needless to say, had raced round the school like wildfire but none of them were anywhere near as fantastic as the truth.
John MacLean looked at Clara seriously. “And you say that it was your German teacher, the wolf man, who got the talisman in the end?”
Clara frowned. “Yes, Dad,” she said, “and to tell you the truth, I’m glad I don’t have it any more. I know Auntie Murial did it for the best but I think she was wrong to have left it to me in the first place.”
“I’m glad it’s gone as well,” her mother said, getting up to go to the kitchen. “I still can’t believe the trouble it caused! The whole of the Borders was turned upside down what with the scarecrows, the snowmen and the witches. But I must say,” she continued, “that it’s been lovely actually living here. Your dad’s done a bit of gardening and I’ve been finding my way round the shops in Berwick and Coldstream.”
“Yes,” her husband smiled, “now that the builders have finally finished, we can relax and enjoy our new house — at long last!”
There was a pause. Suddenly Edinburgh and the Royal Mile Primary seemed very far away.
Neil and Clara looked at one another. “I know,” John MacLean admitted, “it’s like living in another world down here, isn’t it. I’ll find it strange leaving Edinburgh after all these years as well.”
“Has anyone moved into the cottage yet?” Clara asked, thinking back to their old house beside Arthur’s Seat. “Have you been given a date yet?”
“Actually, I meant to tell you sooner,” her mother answered. “Robbie Moffat’s moving in next Monday. He’s taking over your dad’s job and he and his wife want to move in before the end of the month. You can understand it,” she added. “They have young children and want to have everything sorted out before the Christmas rush begins.”
“And I’ve been offered job as Estate Manager on one of the big estates down by the river, so it all fits in rather nicely,” their father added. “They want me to start at the beginning of December.”
“Gosh! Great, Dad!” Neil said, looking pleased. “That’s fantastic!”
“Isn’t it,” Janet MacLean smiled happily. “Everything seems to be working out very nicely. And it looks as if you won’t be boarders for much longer,” she continued as her husband left the room to answer the telephone. “I must remember to pop in and see the school secretary next week to arrange places for you both on the school bus.”
Clara’s face brightened. Neil had made loads of friends at school but she hadn’t really settled to being a boarder. The thought of taking the school bus backwards and forwards was ideal. “Angela and Caroline both come to school on the bus,” she grinned, “they were witches as well …”
“You’ll make lots more friends as a day girl,” her mother nodded. “In fact, I’m thinking of having a Christmas party so that I get to know some of the mothers!”
Neil looked up as his father came back into the room. “That was Jimmy MacFarlane,” he said. “He’s asked us round to the farm tomorrow afternoon to meet some people from one of those English crop circle societies. Remember the night we saw the wheat making all those fantastic patterns, Neil?”
“Will I ever forget,” Neil shivered. “That was scary!”
“Well, apparently Jimmy took pictures of the field the next day and sold them to the Berwickshire News to make a bit of money. They splashed them all over the front page, of course, and the upshot of it all is that Jimmy’s been approached by some members of a crop circle club who wanted to investigate the field. They’re going to go over it with metal detectors to test it for signs of magnetism or some such thing.”
“Do you think they’ll find anything?” Neil frowned. “I mean …”
“I shouldn’t think so,” her father said reassuringly. “The witches are far too clever to leave any traces behind.”