The Worst Witch All at Sea (16 page)

Ethel had obviously been out again. Her hair was windswept and she was wearing her cloak, which she folded neatly on top of her suitcase before she came and stood at the foot of Mildred’s mat.

‘I wouldn’t bother going on any trip if I were you,’ she announced.

‘What trip?’ asked Mildred, confused for a moment. ‘Oh yes! The trip to the rock. Yes – well, as I told you, I decided against it.
You
know best about these things, Ethel.’

‘Just in case you change your mind,’ said Ethel darkly, ‘why don’t you take a look out of the window.’

Mildred sprang to her feet and peered out into the darkening night.

Far below, in the deep shadow of the cove, she could just make out the shape of the boat, no longer attached to the breakwater, making its way steadily out into the open sea.

‘Ethel you – you –’ Words failed Mildred as she ran to the door, pulling on her cardigan and cloak over her pyjamas. ‘Why can’t you ever leave anything alone?’

‘Don’t make such a fuss, Mildred!’ said Ethel feeling a little embarrassed, as half the class was now propped up in their beds, listening. ‘It’s only a boat for goodness’ sake.’

Only a boat! thought Mildred, as she raced through the stone corridors and began the descent down the rickety steps. It says a lot for her desperation to rescue Tabby, that she didn’t stop to remember that she was afraid of the dark.

tanding at the edge of the waves with her eyes as wide open as possible, Mildred tried to gauge how far the boat had progressed. It certainly seemed a long way away, and the growing breeze was a little alarming, ruffling white crests on to the edge of the waves. Fortunately, a perfect full moon was rising above the horizon, casting a strong enough light to make Mildred less desperate about being out alone in the dark. There seemed to be nothing she could do. She couldn’t swim at all, not even the doggie-paddle. If only she had a broomstick.

Suddenly, there was a loud miaow from the cave. Mildred’s heart leapt — first in fright, then for joy as she thought that Tabby must have somehow got off the boat and be sheltering in the cave.

‘Tabby!’ she called as she ran to peer into the darkness, but the cat which pattered out to rub itself against her ankles was not a tabby, but a beautiful, sleek, black one. Mildred noticed the broomstick leaning against the wall just inside the cave as she bent down and picked up the cat.

‘Now who do
you
belong to?’ asked Mildred. ‘Hello? Is there anyone there?’ she called into the dark corners of the cave.

The complete stillness of the cave was her reply. The cat was now entwining itself round the broomstick, which Mildred caught as it toppled over sideways.

‘
I
know!’ she exclaimed, as an idea struck her. ‘Here’s your rescuer, Tabby! It won’t take a minute on this to zoom out to the boat and bring you back! Perhaps I could even bring back the boat and no one would be any the wiser.’

She did wonder who the broomstick and cat belonged to, but of course there was no reason to suppose that they were Miss Hardbroom’s. Poor Mildred would have been even more terrified if she had known that she was setting out on Miss Hardbroom’s best broomstick and that Miss Hardbroom herself was in the boat.

‘Drat that Ethel!’ she muttered as she pulled her cape around her shoulders. ‘I know she didn’t realize about Tabby, but it’s still an awful thing to do to unmoor a boat and just shove it out to sea – and I just
know
I’m bound to get the blame if it isn’t back at the breakwater by the morning. You stay here in this nice warm cave, little cat – I won’t be long.’

She pushed the cat firmly back into the cave as, to Mildred’s surprise, it tried to jump on to the back of the broomstick, which was hovering patiently in mid-air as she had commanded it.

‘Off we go then!’ said Mildred, climbing on and giving the stick a brisk tap, and they set off up the beach, skimming the waves like a hovercraft.

Unfortunately Mildred had forgotten Miss Hardbroom’s warning about the broomstick not working if it was

damp, and instead of rising above the water she ploughed straight into it.

There was enough air trapped under Mildred’s cloak to hold her up

amid the waves, giving her time to remember how Ethel had come to grief during the broomstick water-skiing because she didn’t hold it high above the water. It was very hard not to panic, but Mildred managed to tread water well enough to stop herself sinking. She grabbed the broomstick and held it as far up in the air as she could.

‘Fly!
Please
fly!’ she gasped. ‘Off we go,
nice
broom,
beautiful
broom.
Please
.’

Perhaps it was the flattery that did