A strong wind howled through the corridors of Cackles Academy and an icy draught blasted its way beneath every door. Mildred Hubble raised her head from the letter she had been trying to write as her door was rattled again by a passing gust.
She shivered and wrapped her bedclothes tighter about herself. There was plaintive meowing from Tabby, as the cat was unceremoniously dumped onto the floor by his owner's actions.
"Sorry Tabby." Mildred immediately apologised and reached down to scoop up the small grey tabby cat. She placed him on her lap and was pleased to hear the reassuring happy purr within moments. Mildred didn't like to think that her cat ever held a grudge against her for the way that he was treated but it didn't hurt to pander to Tabby once in a while.
"I hate the new year." She told the cat miserably as she tried to gather her writing things together again. Her hands were so cold that she was beginning to find it difficult to keep hold of her pen. She read through her letter again and realised just how little information it contained. Her parents were always telling her that they wanted to know what she was getting up to at school but Mildred doubted that they really wanted to know about the detentions and the exploding cauldrons that made up the best part of her school life. She sighed heavily as she tried to think of something positive to write about. The past week had been nothing short of disastrous. The weather had been doing its best to prove that it could provide the coldest January on record and Miss Drill had been equally determined to prove that a little cold never hurt anyone. She shivered as she cast her mind back to the long run that they'd been forced to take on the Monday morning.
Mildred would have been the first to admit that she had very little in common with Miss Hardbroom but the imposing potions teacher had, to her mind, struck the nail on the head when she announced, very loudly, that she considered Cross-country running to be one of the most pointless things in the school timetable. She didn't agree with her teacher's belief that their time would be better spent in the potions lab but she did agree that almost anything was better than being forced to run for miles through the frozen countryside without even the promise of a cake at Cosie's café at the end of it.
Mildred's mind then turned to thoughts of Tuesday and triple Potions with Miss Hardbroom. She was fairly certain that there would never be a situation in life where she would have to turn herself into bulrushes. This was something she was pretty pleased about as after four attempts the nearest she had managed was a rather sorry looking willow tree. Miss Hardbroom had done her best to hide her disappointment, which was to say that she'd not actually sent Mildred out of the class but she had strongly suggested that Mildred apply herself to her homework with a little more vigour in future.
Mildred let her chin drop onto her knees. The term had not started well and there was nothing in the weeks ahead that promised to lighten the gloom that was visibly settling upon the school.
"I think this is going to be the worst term to date." She informed Tabby as she turned her attention back to her letter and tried to think what she could tell her parents without alarming them.
Imogen Drill suppressed a shiver as she entered the staff room. She hated to admit it to herself but she was finding it hard to maintain a high level of enthusiasm for cross-country running in the current wintry climate. She pushed her hands through her short blond hair, checking that she'd managed to remove all the random bits of twigs and leaves that seemed to delight in accumulating there. She knew that she couldn't rely on her fellow teachers to point out the random greenery to her. She'd spent three hours on Monday afternoon with what amounted to nearly half a tree stuck in her hair without anyone seeing fit to tell her about it. If it hadn't have been for the broody owl from Pentangles who was trying to collect together material for a new nest she might never have found out about it. Her frown deepened as she remembered the way that the swooping owl had rudely disrupted the volleyball game between Cackles and Pentangles. She did not appreciate being the centre of such attention.
When she'd confronted her colleagues about the matter later in the staff room, Davina Bat had simply pointed at the baton jammed into her own unruly hair and mumbled that she thought that Imogen was copying her. Miss Cackle had been placating and apologetic whereas Constance Hardbroom had simply stared at her uncomprehendingly. If Constance had noticed the twigs, she hadn't thought it her place to mention it to her colleague.
"Having a hard day Imogen?"
"What?" Imogen jumped as she heard Miss Cackle's enquiring tone. There were times when Amelia Cackle seemed to almost blend in with the furniture in the staff room.
"I'm fine… really." She tried to find some energy to respond brightly but the words came out flat and unconvincing.
Amelia Cackle frowned as she watched the usually effervescent games teacher flop onto one of the seats and let out a heavy sigh.
"Is something bothering you?" She enquired.
Imogen shook her head.
"Nope, everything's fine. I'm just a little down that's all."
"Hmm." Amelia rose to her feet and moved to the fireplace. "January in this place seems to do that to pupils and staff alike."
"Perhaps we should do something to lift the spirits." Imogen suggested.
"What do you suggest?" Amelia inquired, a sudden dread striking her. "Not another volleyball tournament?"
Imogen completely missed the fear in Miss Cackle's voice; she was too busy trying to think of a better way of gaining the students interest.
"We should do something exciting." She mused. "Something to really engage the students and take their minds off of the grey world outside the doors."
"Not a volleyball tournament then?"
"What?" Imogen became aware that Miss Cackle had just said something. "Sorry I was miles away."
"I was just wondering if your idea had anything to do with volleyball?"
Imogen weighed up the thought.
"Well I hadn't actually considered that but…"
"You're probably right. Something new and original would be better." Miss Cackle hastened to try and steer Imogen away from anything that involved high nets and flying balls.
"I'll do some research." Imogen announced. "See if I can't come up with something to brighten things up a little."
"You do that." Amelia encouraged her, letting out a sigh of relief that she wasn't going to have to be on her guard against wildly hit spherical missiles. She'd researched volleyball after the incident during the last tournament and come to the conclusion that the version of the game the girls played was different to the one in the books. The books she had found on the subject made no mention of physical contact or the need to provide protective clothing for those people watching on from the sidelines.
"Do you think we could arrange something that could take place indoors?" Amelia inquired.
Constance Hardbroom stood at the window and breathed in the chill, clear morning air. There was nothing, she reflected, so perfect as a crisp January morning. To her way of thinking, January was one of the best months of the year. October had to win out in the end of course as that month contained Hallowe'en, the most important event in the witch calendar, but January ran in a close second. There was something untouched about the New Year; a promise that anything could happen in the coming months. She closed her eyes and let the peaceful silence of the day wash over her. It was going to be a good year she told herself; this was the year that Cackle's would once again return to the top of the witch training league tables.
There was an explosion of sound as the door to the potions lab crashed open and the peaceful silence that Constance had been enjoying was shattered beyond recognition. She drew in a quick breath.
"Quiet." She waited and was pleased to hear the cacophony drop away instantly. "This is a potions lab not a youth club. Mildred Hubble take that ridiculous multi-coloured bow out of your hair this is not carnival season. Ruby Cherrytree how many times do I have to tell you that my potions lab is not the place for chewing gum? In fact, no place in this school is the right place for chewing gum. Maud Moonshine and Enid Nightshade I want to know why you don't have the correct books with you for this session."
The girls were in stunned silence and, from her position at the window; Constance Hardbroom allowed herself a small smile. She knew that the girls would be too interested in trying to work out how she had picked up on all their failings without turning away from the window to cause any trouble in the up coming lesson.
"How does she do that?" Maud whispered to Mildred as she took her place at one of the long desks that ran across the lab.
"Beats me." Mildred confessed as she dutifully removed the ribbon from her hair. "Do you think she sneaks into our rooms and spies on us?"
Maud exchanged a look with her.
"She wouldn't be allowed to surely?"
"Yeah but who'd know? We all know HB can make herself invisible at will. What's to stop her from doing whatever she wants without detection?"
Maud shivered.
"Shut up Millie."
"Wise words." Miss Hardbroom boomed from the front of the class.
Mildred looked up to see that Miss Hardbroom was glaring at her, impatient to begin her lesson.
"Sorry Miss Hardbroom." Mildred apologised and waited for her teacher to face the blackboard before whispering to Maud. "Do you think she heard us?"
Maud checked that Miss Hardbroom was still writing before she answered.
"If she had I'm sure we'd be on our way to Miss Cackle's office by now."
"I thought I said quiet!" Miss Hardbroom reminded the girls. "Is there something in that instruction that you find difficult to understand?"
"No Miss Hardbroom. Sorry Miss Hardbroom."
Constance finished writing on the board and placed the chalk on the small shelf at the bottom of the board. Maybe it wasn't going to Cackle's year to shine after all, not if she had to contend with the lax discipline and sloppy manners of Mildred and her friends.
She turned back and faced the class, fleetingly wondering if this term was going to be as painful as the last.
"Haldane Harrington and his travelling players." Miss Cackle read from the gaudily coloured flyer that Imogen had handed her. She lowered the sheet of paper and looked at Imogen over the top of her glasses. "I take it you haven't shown this to Constance?"
Imogen shook her head and crossed her fingers.
"I haven't had the chance." She lied as she sipped at her orange juice. Her mind kindly provided her with a playback of the frantic few seconds when she had run round the staff room trying to find somewhere to hide the piece of paper before Constance had entered the room at morning break. "I'm sure she'd greet the idea with her usual level of enthusiasm though."
She tried to maintain a note of sincerity but Miss Cackle's frown told her that her effort was obviously wide of the mark.
"I know Constance can seem a little…" Amelia searched around for the right word to describe her workaholic colleague. "A little of the disciplinarian at times." She finally settled with. "But she does have the students well being at heart."
"But you know as well as I do that she wouldn't see the educational benefit of having these people within the school. She'd think of the mess and the disruption to her routine before she thought of the benefit that it might have for the students."
"Hmmm."
Imogen crossed the fingers on her other hand as she hoped that the 'Hmmm' from Miss Cackle was a positive sign.
"They could set up their plays in the great hall." Imogen tried to find another way to sell the project. "And we have enough empty rooms in the cellars that they could use as dressing rooms."
"They are not cellars Imogen, they are dungeons." Amelia replied without thinking. There were times when she thought that Imogen would never truly manage to come to terms with the fact that Cackles was a castle with a long history and not a traditional school.
Amelia closed her eyes and tried for a moment to imagine what the place would look like with a bunch of actors in its midst.
"I swear the present second year are the worst that Cackle's has ever seen."
Amelia's eyes snapped open as she heard the clipped tones of Constance Hardbroom. The imposing potions teacher was standing next to the urn and contemplating whether her tea needed milk or not. A quick glance towards the door revealed that it was still closed. The frantic mopping of orange juice from the first years homework pile that Miss Drill was attempting told Amelia that Constance had once again chosen to forgo the traditional method of entering a room in favour of simply materialising.
"I swear that we should fit you with a bell." Imogen complained angrily as she failed to prevent an errant stream of orange juice from attacking a well intentioned but poorly executed drawing of a cat. The animal had looked sorry for itself before the introduction of juice, now it looked positively petrified.
"What?" Constance seemed unaware of the disruption that her sudden entrance into the room had caused. She picked up the steaming mug of tea. "I've been looking forward to this for the past hour."
"Couldn't you just have magiced one up for yourself?" Imogen wanted to know and Amelia felt her heart sink as she heard the question. There were times when Imogen's status as a non-witch in the school was made painfully obvious. This was one of those times. Amelia watched as Constance's eyes narrowed. If there was one thing Constance hated, and to be fair Amelia wasn't exactly sure how long the list was at the present time, the use of the word 'magiced' was undoubtedly somewhere near the top.
"Magiced!" The word dripped with distain and Amelia turned her head as she heard the lock being slid on the stationary cupboard's door. She hadn't even been aware that Davina Bat was in the room. Taking a breath she decided that she'd better step in before the argument really kicked off.
"Now Constance you know that Imogen isn't trying to…"
"Magiced! Magiced! Just what sort of a word is magiced? You start allowing words like magiced to enter everyday vocabulary and before you know it, we'll be potioning and chantering! I really hope that you don't use words like 'magiced' in front of the students Miss Drill."
"Constance." Miss Cackle tried again to get through to her deputy but, as she'd learnt through bitter experience over the years, once Constance Hardbroom was on a roll there was no stopping her.
"But there should be standards Headmistress, proper standards that everyone, without exception, adheres to. If we don't have these standards in place then chaos will result. Oh I know you think I'm over-reacting but I'm not. We need to have standards if we are to expect our students to have any."
Imogen sighed heavily.
"It was only an expression for heaven's sake Constance. I wasn't advocating the complete destruction of the English language."
"Now ladies, ladies." Miss Cackle moved to stand between the two teachers. "I'm sure that Imogen didn't mean anything by her use of that word and Constance I'm sure that we all agree that we don't want to see the standards at Cackle's slip. Can we please just make up and return this staff room to a calm and civilised environment?"
Constance glared at Imogen before simply disappearing into thin air.
"Well that went well." Imogen noted.
"Hmm." Was Amelia's only response. Imogen had the feeling that this wasn't the same sort of positive 'Hmm' that she'd heard earlier.
"Do you think that you'll be able to persuade Constance that having a theatre group in the school is a good idea?"
Amelia settled herself back at her desk and picked up the discarded flyer.
"I think it's all a matter of the way that we choose to broach the subject. Give me some time to think about it and I'm sure we can persuade her that it's in the best interests of the students."
"So you're agreeing to the idea?" Imogen's eyes lit up with excitement.
"I rather think I am agreeing to the idea." Amelia confirmed. "What this place needs is something to lift the spirits." She tapped the flyer. "I rather think Haldane Harrington could be the answer. Can I leave it to you to sort out the details with him?"
Imogen nodded and headed straight out of the room. Amelia watched her go and then looked down at the paper in her hand. There had to be some way of breaking the news to Constance, it was just a case of working out the best way.