Witch's Business by Diana Wynne Jones Read Free Book Online

ways of being unlucky, and Frank knew three more, but none of it seemed to help. Martin, when he at last came out to join them, said he knew nothing about it at all.
    â€œOnly the first thing seems to be to get the tooth back,” he said, and he took off his watch to add to the heap.
    â€œBut that’s not fair,” said Jess, trying to stop him. “You didn’t have anything to do with the wretched tooth.”
    â€œVernon’s my best friend,” said Martin. “So it is fair. He’s done all sorts of things for me.”
    So Jess gave in, and took up the heap in both hands before she crammed it into her pocket. “Surely,” she said, “this ought to be enough for one little baby tooth. Weighed in the balance, I mean. Even if it was a gold tooth.”
    â€œI wish it had been,” Vernon said glumly. “Then Buster would have bought them all fish and chips with it instead.”
    They set off, the Piries wheeling their bicycles beside the other two, until they came to the allotment fence. Everyone was anxious and dejected. Frank almost admitted to being scared as well. He did not like the idea of breaking into Biddy’s hut—particularly now she really did seem to be a witch. Still, as he looked at Martin walking in front down the path with Vernon, Frank was more encouraged by him than he had expected. Martin was not as tall as Vernon—probably he was a little younger—but he was promisingly solid looking, and he did not try to boss anyone. It was Vernon who seemed to be the bossy one. At least, somehow, they all kept doing what Vernon said.
    They separated before Biddy’s hut was in sight. Vernon and Jess went on down the path to the hut. Frank and Martin set off to toil through the white grass, over tin cans and old bicycles, through squashy hidden marsh, to the back of the hut. Stale stinks came up under their feet. Both of them sweated and gasped for air.
    â€œYou feel you want to open a window,” Martin whispered.
    Frank nodded but could not think of a reply. He thought he was going to find it very hard to talk to Martin, until after they had each, with a long stride, got themselves onto the firmer ground under the willows, he remembered one thing he could say.
    â€œWe stopped the Adams kids for you,” he whispered.
    Martin said, “Thanks,” and began to sidle along the riverbank to the leaning, rotten-looking back of the hut. “You’ll have to wait to be paid, though.”
    â€œCan’t be helped,” said Frank, awkwardly.
    Vernon and Jess, meanwhile, went very slowly on toward the bare patch in front of the hut. Jess was so frightened that she found it hard to put one foot before the other, for now they knew Biddy was some kind of witch, and Biddy had warned her and Frank to keep away. Vernon, Jess suspected, was almost as frightened as she was. It showed when he tried to make her go first between the petrol drums, and it showed again when the cockerel flew up to the roof. Both of them ducked and put one arm up. Jess nearly ran away, only Vernon caught her coat and would not let her go.
    Biddy did not seem to be there. Jess hoped she was out—shopping or something. She had often seen Biddy out shopping, with a string bag, all stooped over, peering through her glasses and taking big, irregular, swooping steps. Jess prayed she was doing it now. Vernon fidgeted and seemed to get over being frightened.
    â€œI think she’s out,” Jess whispered.
    â€œShall we see?” Vernon asked, with a sideways sort of grin at her. Before Jess could stop him, he picked up a stick and hammered at a petrol drum with it.
    A hen squawked. The cat darted out of another drum and ran crouching into the hut. It was so fuggy that the echoes died quickly, as if someone had dropped a blanket over Jess’s ears. She and Vernon stood in deep silence until they heard a small shuffling inside the hut. Jess gasped. Vernon’s