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‘Witches,’ my grandmother said. ‘The witches did it.’
‘I can't have a mouse for a son!’ shrieked Mr Jenkins.
‘You've got one,’ my grandmother said. ‘Be nice to him, Mr Jenkins.’
‘Mrs Jenkins will go crazy!’ yelled Mr Jenkins. ‘She can't stand the things!’
‘She'll just have to get used to him,’ my grandmother said. ‘I hope you don't keep a cat in the house.’
‘We do! We do!’ cried Mr Jenkins. ‘Topsy is my wife's favourite creature!’
‘Then you'll just have to get rid of Topsy,’ my grandmother said. ‘Your son is more important than your cat.’
‘He certainly is!’ Bruno shouted from inside the handbag. ‘You tell Mum she's got to get rid of Topsy before I go home!’
By now half the Dining-Room was watching our little group. Knives and forks and spoons had been put down and all over the place heads were turning round to stare at Mr Jenkins as he stood there spluttering and shouting. They couldn't see either Bruno or me and they were wondering what all the fuss was about.
‘By the way,’ my grandmother said, ‘would you like to know who did this to him?’ There was a mischievous little smile on her face and I could see that she was about to get Mr Jenkins into trouble.
‘Who?’ he cried. ‘Who did it?’
‘That woman over there,’ my grandmother said. ‘The small one in a black dress at the head of the long table.’
‘She's RSPCC!’ cried Mr Jenkins. ‘She's the Chairwoman!’
‘No, she's not,’ my grandmother said. ‘She's The Grand High Witch Of All The World.’
‘You mean she did it, that skinny little woman over there!’ shouted Mr Jenkins, pointing at her with a long finger. ‘By gad, I'll have my lawyers on to her for this! I'll make her pay through the nose!’
‘I wouldn't do anything rash,’ my grandmother said to him. ‘That woman has magic powers. She might decide to turn you into something even sillier than a mouse. A cockroach perhaps.’
‘Turn me into a cockroach!’ shouted Mr Jenkins, puffing out his chest. ‘I'd like to see her try!’ He swung around and started marching across the Dining-Room towards The Grand High Witch's table. My grandmother and I watched him. Bruno had jumped up on to our table and was also watching his father. Practically everyone in the Dining-Room was watching Mr Jenkins now. I stayed where I was, peeping out of my grandmother's handbag. I thought it might be wiser to stay put.
The Triumph
Mr Jenkins had not gone more than a few paces towards The Grand High Witch's table when a piercing scream rose high above all the other noises in the room, and at the same moment I saw The Grand High Witch go shooting up into the air!
Now she was standing on her chair, still screaming…
Now she was on the table-top, waving her arms…
‘What on earth's happening, Grandmamma?’
‘Wait!’ my grandmother said. ‘Keep quiet and watch.’
Suddenly all the other witches, more than eighty of them, were beginning to scream and jump up out of their seats as though spikes were being stuck into their bottoms. Some were standing on chairs, some were up on the tables and all of them were wiggling about and waving their arms in the most extraordinary manner.
Then, all at once, they became quiet.
Then they stiffened. Every single witch stood there as stiff and silent as a corpse.
The whole room became deathly still.
‘They're shrinking, Grandmamma!’ I said. ‘They're shrinking just like I did!’
‘I know they are,’ my grandmother said.
‘It's the Mouse-Maker!’ I cried. ‘Look! Some of them are growing fur on their faces! Why is it working so quickly, Grandmamma?’
