Note: This was actually one of the first chapters I wrote. It's been waiting for your approval for a long time... So I thought I'd post it, seeing as though I have nothing to do whilst waiting for my veggie burger and potato wedges to cook. Enjoy!
Pandora's Box
Twenty-One
Clad in only her dressing gown, with her wet hair piled on top of her head in a towel, Constance wondered, not for the first time that afternoon, what she was letting herself in for. She paused, her hand hovering over the door handle to her room, unwilling to actually open it and face whatever horrors lay in wait behind it.
"Miss Hardbroom," came Fenella's voice with a sigh. "You can't hide forever."
Constance set her jaw firmly and opened the door.
"Fenella Feverfew, Grizelda Blackwood, I would like to remind you that, even though you are no longer pupils here at Cackle's, I am still a far more qualified and powerful witch than both of you, and I still have the propensity to make both of your existences a living hell," she said through gritted teeth as she crossed the room to her dressing table and the two ex-students, who were smiling like the cats who had got the proverbial cream.
"An interesting choice of words to use in the circumstances," mused Grizelda, "but point taken and duly noted."
Constance growled softly under her breath and cursed herself for ever agreeing to accepting Fenella and Grizelda's offer of assistance in the first place. She sat down in front of the mirror but before Fenella could make to sweep the towel off her head and let her hair cascade loose, Constance spoke again.
"I would also like to remind you," she added stiffly, "that this is a highly irregular situation that will never be repeated. Ever. Have I made myself perfectly understood?"
Fenella bowed low in mock reverence.
"Of course. Now." She straightened and smiled wickedly at her partner-in-crime. "Let's get to work!"
The girls were obviously in their element, Constance noted grimly as they attacked her hair, and she was half-worried, half-intrigued to see the outcome. It could not be denied that Fenella and Grizelda were both excellent witches, and they could have gone so far had they lent that talent to the appliance of more academic pursuits, rather than the formulation of magical beauty products and various other items. When, in their third year, Grizelda had pointed out to a fuming Constance, who had just confiscated their stocks, that they were making a veritable fortune, it had only served to land her in detention for a week. Now, she had to admit that their extra-curricular activities were actually coming into good use, however uncomfortable she might be.
"Now we have hit a slight flaw," said Grizelda, waving a dangerous looking implement in the mirror, "in that whilst we have managed to procure a set of curling tongs from our lovely flatmate, we have no electricity in the castle." The blonde sighed despondently at the plug, and Constance felt a slight wave of relief, that faded once more when she saw the amount of hair adhered to the brush that Fenella had been using to comb out her tresses. It was a miracle she wasn't bald. "But luckily, we have also managed to purloin from her a battery-powered travel hairdryer, and we two have ingenuity enough between us."
"Couldn't you just use magic?" pleaded Constance as Grizelda took a chunk of hair and wound it round a roller. "Please?"
"Miss Hardbroom!" said Fenella, feigning shock. "Magic should not be used for selfish or trivial purposes! Surely you wouldn't want us to forget that most important rule in the Witches' Code!"
Bested, Constance settled for glowering at her younger companions in the mirror.
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" she muttered.
Grizelda bent down so that her face was level with Constance's in the mirror.
"Every second," she replied with a grin. "Now shut up and let us get on with it. You're going to look gorgeous."
"Grizelda, I am nearly forty years old!"
"So?"
Constance sighed with exasperation, wishing that her ex-pupils were not so unable to see how inappropriate it was for a witch of her years to look 'gorgeous'. She closed her eyes and let them get on with it, the pawing and pulling reminding her of the many times when Alison had almost tied her to a kitchen chair and given her a makeover. At the time, she had enjoyed it, and it had certainly taken all the effort out of titivating, but now it served only as a chilling reminder of the last time her long hair had been in rollers, and of the fallout that had followed. She shuddered, earning herself a remonstration from Fenella.
"Keep still! Or we'll go wonky, and that would never do."
After a while, the tugging on her hair stopped, and Constance dared to open her eyes, groaning inwardly at the mess of rollers.
"Right," said Fenella as they stood back to admire their handiwork so far. "I shall leave you in the very capable hands of my partner here to do your make-up."
Grizelda's eyes positively gleamed in anticipation.
"Well," she said, clicking her fingers to adjust Constance's dressing-table stool away from the mirror. "Having pooled all our resources..."
"And everyone else in the school's" snorted Fenella from the doorway, and Constance heard the dress-cover holding Della's evening gown unzip. She had not had the courage to look at it yet, and she felt a little worried that Fenella was getting the first glimpse. Grizelda ignored her and continued.
"...we think we might just have enough bits and pieces to do a good job."
"Isn't that rather unhygienic?" asked Constance.
"Well, you didn't exactly leave us much choice!" said Grizelda, her tone exasperated as she swept a hand over Constance's own scant make-up items: pressed powder, mulberry lipstick and a worn-down eyeliner pencil that was at least twenty years old. Sighing theatrically, she picked up a sponge and began dabbing base onto Constance's nose. There was silence for a few moments, broken only by a low whistle from Fenella.
"Wow," she breathed. "That is a dress and a half..."
There was a pregnant pause, and whilst Constance didn't like to consider what Fenella was thinking at the best of times, she was still completely unprepared for her next remark.
"What are you going to wear underneath it?"
"I beg your pardon!" she spluttered, causing Grizelda to sigh and mutter about smudged lipstick. She turned to see Fenella standing in front of the dress appreciatively, and, her heart sinking, she realised that it was strapless, and the full meaning of Della's remark about being too small for it hit home.
"No offence intended Miss, but you don't look like the sort of woman to own a multiway bra."
Constance sighed and went to rest her forehead in her palm, but Grizelda's screech of 'don't touch your face!' put paid to that idea. Just when she thought the humiliation could not get any worse, she heard the scraping of wood on wood and realised that Fenella was going through her underwear drawer.
"Fenella Feverfew, drop those knickers now!" Constance cursed the hot tears of embarrassment that were threatening to well up under her eyelids. "I shall sort out my undergarments in my own time, thank you very much!"
Angry sparks shot out of Constance's fingers almost on impulse, stinging Fenella away from the drawer. There was silence as the two younger witches looked at each other, and from their expressions, both knew that they had overstepped the mark this time. Grizelda returned to the vast array of make-up on the dressing table somewhat abashed, and Fenella tactfully zipped up the dress-cover again. After a few more minutes of prodding, Grizelda stood back and admired her handiwork with a satisfied smile. They left her alone to dress without a word, and Constance was most reluctant to call them back in so that they could continue her transformation, but she knew that it would not do to leave it half-done.
It was some time before the girls finished putting the 'finishing touches' to her ensemble, and finally stood back and allowed her to see herself fully. Constance looked at herself in the mirror, at the way her hair was pinned, the loose, corkscrew curls framing her face, at the way Grizelda had done her make-up, smoky grey eyes and scarlet lips, a proper little seductress. She looked like a different woman, at least fifteen years younger.
"We told you you'd look gorgeous," said Grizelda, grinning like the Cheshire Cat at the amazement that was obviously apparent on her former teacher's face. "And you didn't believe us."
The smile on the blonde girl's face soon faded though, as the reality of what Constance was about to do was creeping up on them thick and fast. It was almost time, and both of the younger witches knew that for all their hard work in transforming her, this might be the last anyone saw of Constance.
"We'll... leave you to yourself now," said Fenella, tugging Grizelda's arm to pull her out of the room. They paused at the doorway, all of their earlier glee at having the deputy-head at such a disadvantage gone. "Good luck Miss."
Constance closed her eyes and took a few shaky breaths to steady herself, not wanting to weep and ruin all Fenella and Grizelda's efforts.
It was all up to her now. All the research, all the theories: it was up to her to put them to use. Constance didn't think that she had ever been so scared of the weight that now rested on her bare shoulders. She risked another glance in the mirror and made a mental note to thank Della once again for the loan of the dress, should she live to be able to. It was a beautiful item, red and black swirling into patterns like oil on water, splashes of beading here and there, and of course, everything where it needed to be. She reached down and touched her lower leg where she had tied the thin syringe of Ambrosia Nex to conceal it. If she had borrowed an evening bag from one of the girls, there was far more likelihood of the Devil discovering it and all her plans going to waste. Constance shivered, and not just due to the unseasonably cool evening air hitting more exposed skin than she was used to. She was honestly terrified, of both her responsibility and the actions that would lead to it, and there was nothing that she could do about it.
She picked up the vial of Mirror Potion that Davina had insisted she took with her as a possible means of communication should she find herself in need of help and within the vicinity of an unenchanted glass, again since she was taking no bag to transport a compact. She cast around for a safe place to put it before taking a deep breath and pushing into her cleavage, the only available haven. Constance folded her arms, casting fingers ready, but before she left the pseudo-safety of the school, there was someone she needed to see. She vanished from her bedroom and materialised in the corridor outside the rooms of the headmistress, knocking tentatively.
"Come in," called Davina's fluting voice. She sounded tired, thought Constance. The little singing-mistress was really too old to be getting mixed up in such things as this, and she could tell that the events of the past couple of days were taking their toll on her. She entered the room quietly, taking in Amelia's peacefully sleeping form and Davina bent over her crochet in a moment of uncharacteristic solemnity.
"Davina," Constance began, looking at the strange wool contraption that was being made under her colleague's hand, "what are you making?"
"Carrot hats," she mumbled. "There was a bit of a problem with a Thermostat Charm that the first-years cast to make Mr Blossom's greenhouse more energy efficient, I thought I'd help out a little before all the vegetables died of frostbite..." She tailed off as she looked up at Constance hovering in the doorway. "My goodness... Constance, you look beautiful."
Constance could not help herself; she blushed beneath the layer of foundation.
"Thank Fenella and Grizelda." She sighed, unwilling to leave the warmth and comfort of Amelia's room.
"You don't have to do this," Davina said, her voice pleading. "Please don't do this Constance. Amelia's getting better, she'll be right as rain soon."
"That may be, but the Void is still opening, and we still have a gateway directly to the ninth circle in the dungeons." She shuddered as she remembered Davina imparting the news. "I wish there was another way, Davina, believe me I do, but we must accept it. This is the way it has to be. Besides," she laughed weakly, wishing she could put more force behind it, wishing she could siphon some of the school's rapidly fading optimism. "I've got a trick up my sleeve."
Both witches looked at Constance's bare arms and décolletage and gave a small snort of half-hearted laughter. Davina set aside her crochet and came across the room, pausing momentarily before throwing her arms around the taller witch. Constance staggered slightly, taken aback by the suddenness of the action, but then she returned the gesture.
"Good luck," whispered Davina as they broke apart and Constance made to leave the castle. "Come back to us Constance. Cackle's just wouldn't be the same without you."
"I'll do my best."
With that, Constance folded her arms, closed her eyes, and muttered a brief prayer before vanishing from within the walls of the castle.
Note2: And away we go... Stay tuned!