Cosmo and the Secret Spell

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  Cosmo the kitten was now ten months old, which meant that he almost wasn’t a kitten any more. He wasn’t a fully grown adult cat yet either though, and the witch family he lived with had started to call him a teenage cat, which they seemed to think was very funny every time they said it.

  ‘Father, what is a teenage cat exactly?’ Cosmo asked his father, Mephisto, one morning.

  His father looked up from licking his jet-black fur and seemed about to reply, but instead his nose started twitching and the only sound he made was, ‘A-A-A-TCHOO!’ as he sneezed everywhere.

  The noise brought Scarlett (the witch-girl they lived with) running into the room. ‘That’s your fifth sneeze this morning, Mephisto! And you’ve been sneezing like that since yesterday. You must have caught a cold and you know what that means!’

  Mephisto miaowed loudly in protest, because he knew what was coming next. Since witch-cats like Mephisto and Cosmo were known for their powerful magic sneezes (which witches used to help with their spells), a witch-cat with a cold was a very great problem. They might sneeze anywhere at any time, and that meant they might cause all sorts of unintended spells to be activated.

  ‘You’ll have to go into quarantine until your cold is over,’ Scarlett said firmly. ‘I’ll make up a nice cosy cat bed for you in the spare room and put the litter tray in there too. We’ll bring you plenty of food and drink but you must stay put until you stop sneezing!’

  Cosmo looked on while a grumbly Mephisto was carried upstairs by Scarlett. Cosmo’s mother wasn’t going to like this one bit, he thought, since it meant she was going to have to look after her eight new kittens all by herself.

  Cosmo went out through the kitchen cat flap to look for his mother – a beautiful, pure white, short-haired cat called India. It was a lovely sunny day and he soon found her out in the garden trying to wash three of her kittens at the same time. Three more kittens were playing together on the grass nearby while another was chasing a bumblebee despite the fact that India was mewing at it to stop unless it wanted to get stung. The smallest kitten, who looked the most similar to Cosmo, came rushing over to chase his older brother’s tail.

  ‘Go away, Kit!’ Cosmo hissed, impatiently flicking his tail out of the way.

  Whereas Cosmo was almost completely black with four white paws and a white tip to his tail, the youngest kitten had a completely black tail and only three white paws.

  The kittens were eight weeks old and full of energy, and Cosmo’s parents had yet to give any of them names. Instead the four female kittens were all called Kitty and the four males were all called Kit – which Cosmo thought was a very unsatisfactory arrangement.

  ‘We’re going to have to give them proper names soon, aren’t we, Mother?’ Cosmo said, not for the first time.

  ‘I’ve told your father that’s his job,’ India miaowed back. ‘I’m far too busy to be naming kittens as well as keeping them all clean. Where is he, by the way?’

  ‘Scarlett thinks he’s got a cold and she’s shutting him up in the spare room,’ Cosmo replied.

  ‘What? You mean he’s not coming to help me?’

  ‘It’s not his fault, Mother,’ Cosmo mewed while carefully heading back towards the house as he sensed what was coming next.

  ‘Well, I can’t wash eight kittens all at the same time,’ India protested. ‘Cosmo, I think you’re old enough now to help with keeping them clean so—’

  But Cosmo had already disappeared round the side of the house and out into the front garden. It was bad enough trying to keep himself clean let alone washing his baby brothers and sisters as well. Besides, he was a teenage cat now, and he was fairly sure that teenage cats did not look after baby kittens. He was no ordinary teenage cat either, he reminded himself. He was a witch-cat, just like his father, and the older he got, the more powerful his own magic sneezes were becoming.

  Normally Cosmo would be required to spend at least part of his day with his father, helping Scarlett’s parents, Goody and Gabriel, with their spells. But today Goody and Gabriel were leaving to visit their elderly aunt who wanted to see their new baby, Spike (who had been born at around the same time as India’s kittens). Scarlett was going to stay with Goody’s sister, Bunty, who lived a short broomstick ride away, and the cats were being left on their own with Scarlett popping in regularly to put down fresh food and water and to check up on them.

  I wish I could get away from the house for a few days too, Cosmo thought to himself. It’s going to be very boring with Scarlett gone and Mother wanting me to help her all the time with the kittens. And just as he thought that, he spotted Albert-of-the-street sauntering along the pavement. Albert-of-the-street was a very handsome adult witch-cat who was all black, apart from his white moustache, which curled up at both ends. As his name suggested, Albert didn’t live in a house like Cosmo’s family, but roamed free on the streets instead – and right now the idea of having that much freedom greatly appealed to Cosmo.

  ‘Albert, wait for me!’ Cosmo called out, bounding across his front garden to catch up with the older cat.

  He quickly explained his situation, and Albert immediately invited him to hang out with him. ‘I can’t think of anything worse than being cooped up in a house filled with other cats,’ he said. ‘I can teach you to be a street cat, no problem. Just follow me.’

  As they walked along together, Albert explained to Cosmo that being a street cat on no account meant that one had to sleep on the street. ‘I have many places to sleep,’ Albert explained, ‘though usually not one of them is my home for more than a few nights at a time. The exception is that for the last few weeks I have been sleeping in the same place every night. Ever since a certain bad witch we both know got sent to prison, I have been sleeping in her vacant house – Sticky-End Cottage.’

  ‘Selina Slaughter’s house?’ Cosmo said in alarm. ‘But doesn’t that make you feel . . . ?’ He shuddered, thinking about Selina Slaughter and how she had very nearly succeeded in pulling off an extremely evil spell only a few weeks before.

  ‘Scared?’ Albert said, looking sideways at Cosmo. ‘Not at all, my friend. The house is empty apart from Selina’s white mice, who keep well out of my way as you can imagine!’ He chuckled. ‘They used to act as spies for her in exchange for having a nice warm place to sleep and plenty of cheese to eat. Now they just sit around the house all day long with nothing to do except pay her a visit in prison from time to time. Not that they were as grateful as I expected when I offered to move in for a while and keep them company. I did tell them that I rarely eat mice, but they still got into a total flap. Silly creatures.’

  ‘Maybe some good witches will come and live in Sticky-End Cottage soon,’ Cosmo said hopefully.

  ‘Perhaps – though that cottage always seems to attract bad witches – the Broom sisters lived there before Selina, and remember how bad they were? One of them’s in prison with Selina now, I believe. Still, luckily the Broom sisters had a cat and so there’s a cat flap in the back door, which makes it very easy for me to get in and out.’

  ‘I’m not sure I want to sleep in Sticky-End Cottage tonight, Albert,’ Cosmo mewed. ‘Isn’t there somewhere else we could stay instead?’

  ‘Street cats can’t be choosy, Cosmo,’ Albert said sternly. ‘So if you’re going to be fussy you’d better go back to your parents right now.’

  Cosmo did his best to feel brave. ‘No, it’s all right. I really do want to learn how to be a street cat like
you, Albert.’

  ‘Then follow me.’ And Albert led him down into an open sewage pipe, which he had discovered was a handy shortcut underneath the main road. And Cosmo felt very brave indeed as he thought about what his mother would say if she could see him – and smell him – right now.

  It took them quite some time to reach Sticky-End Cottage, since Albert made several stops on the way to steal titbits of food from various houses with open windows. But finally they arrived at Selina’s old house, where, to Albert’s obvious surprise, a large removal van was parked outside.

  Two white mice were scurrying away from the house as they approached it and Albert called out after them, ‘Who’s moving in?’

  ‘Selina’s son and his pregnant wife,’ one of the mice squeaked back at him. (Most cats understood a bit of mouse language and vice versa.)

  ‘Surely there’s no need to run away?’ Albert said in surprise. ‘Selina let you live with her, didn’t she? Surely her son will do the same?’

  ‘Yes, but his wife has food cravings and one of them is for mice on toast!’ the mouse explained. And with that they both vanished into the bushes.

  ‘Well,’ said Albert, looking at one of the removal men as he carried a large dog kennel round to the back of the house, ‘it looks like this might not be the best place to stay tonight after all.’

  ‘But where else can we go?’ Cosmo asked.

  ‘Another of my favourite stopover places is not far from here,’ Albert said. ‘Come on. We’ll go and stay with my friend the Frog-Witch instead. You’ve probably heard of her.’

  ‘No, I haven’t,’ said Cosmo. ‘Is she famous then?’

  ‘She’s the leading expert on frog magic in this country, but she’s also a bit of a recluse and rather eccentric. She never minds me curling up for the night on her sofa, and I’m sure she’ll let you stay too. All you have to remember is that on no account must you touch any of her frogs.’

  Cosmo felt a little worried at the thought of being in a room with lots of frogs that he wasn’t allowed to touch. After all, it was almost impossible to resist the urge to give a jumpy frog just a little tap with your paw. But Albert seemed unconcerned about that as he led Cosmo away from Sticky-End Cottage and back along the street.

  The Frog-Witch’s home turned out to be only two streets away in a road full of very large houses, several of which had the pink chimneys (invisible to humans) that showed they belonged to witches. As Albert led the way up the driveway, Cosmo saw several ponds in the front garden.

  ‘She keeps a lot of her frogs outside so that they can enjoy a more natural habitat,’ Albert told him. ‘You should see her back garden! It’s so full of ponds that there’s hardly any space left to walk.’

  As they approached the house they heard raised voices coming from inside.

  ‘She must have a visitor,’ Albert said. ‘Come on. There’s a kitchen window she always leaves open round the back. We’ll get in that way.’ But before they could veer off to the side of the house the front door was flung open and a very angry-looking dark-haired young man stepped outside.

  ‘You’ll regret this!’ he shouted back at the stout elderly witch who had followed him to the front door. ‘You’re an old fool and it won’t be long before you see just how stupid you’ve been! But then it will be too late!’ He strode down the path, narrowly missing stamping on Cosmo’s tail as the cats scurried to get out of his way.

  As the front gate crashed shut behind the Frog-Witch’s visitor, Albert came out of his hiding place and ran to greet the witch, who was looking quite shaken, at the door.

  ‘Oh, Albert, it’s you,’ she murmured as he rubbed against her legs. ‘Do you know, I think I need to sit down.’

  ‘I’ve brought a friend,’ Albert mewed to her, at which point Cosmo came bounding up the path to join them. ‘Cosmo, this is the Frog-Witch.’

  Cosmo mewed his politest greeting at the harassed-looking witch, who Cosmo saw had a large frog perched on one shoulder, another two poking out of one of the pockets in her cloak, and a third that looked like it had made a nest in her bushy grey hair. Albert was right, he thought. She did seem rather eccentric.

  ‘You’d better come inside and we’ll lock the door behind us. I don’t think he’ll come back, but you never know.’ The Frog-Witch shuddered as she glanced towards the gate.

  ‘Who is he?’ Albert asked her once they were safely inside the house.

  It was then that Cosmo realized the Frog-Witch was one of the few clever witches who understood cat language, because she answered, ‘A young male witch who thinks he knows better than I do! He knew all about my secret spell, Albert! And I don’t know how he found out!’

  ‘What secret spell?’ Cosmo asked curiously.

  The Frog-Witch narrowed her eyes. ‘The less anyone else knows about that the better. I know how gossipy you cats are! In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if it wasn’t a cat who’s been telling tales to that dreadful young man.’

  ‘Well, it wasn’t me,’ Albert assured her. ‘I haven’t breathed a word about it to anyone!’ He turned to Cosmo and added, ‘It’s extremely secret, you see.’

  ‘It’s an extremely secret spell that I’m very near to perfecting,’ the Frog-Witch murmured. ‘And when I do, it will change the boundaries of witchcraft forever!’

  As she spoke she led them through to the back of the house, where the noise of croaking could be heard. In fact, Cosmo had never heard so much croaking. There were deep frog croaks mixed with high chirps, long grunts and short ribbits, and as they entered an enormous living room, Cosmo saw that there were frogs everywhere. There were frogs perched on the backs of the sofa and armchairs, and sitting on the coffee table (where a large dish of water had been left for them to bathe in). There were even more frogs hopping about the carpet and one was resting in a large greenery-filled cage with a small artificial pond inside.

  ‘I try to let them come and go as they please,’ the Frog-Witch explained, seeing Cosmo looking at the cage, ‘but I do have one frog that I have to keep under lock and key because he is extremely precious.’

  Cosmo stared up at the large cage, which contained a very handsome green frog who had a sprig of ivy on its head and who was croaking loudly at them in a cross sort of manner.

  ‘That one used to be a prince,’ Albert told Cosmo. ‘That’s why he’s so cross – and why he likes to wear that ivy crown all the time.’

  ‘Wow!’ Cosmo exclaimed, because although he knew all about princes being turned into frogs by wicked spells, he had never before met one who it had actually happened to. ‘But can’t the Frog-Witch just find a princess to kiss him and turn him back into a prince again?’ he asked.

  ‘Don’t be silly, Cosmo!’ Albert said. ‘A kiss from a princess can’t really turn a frog back into a prince. That only happens in fairy tales!’

  ‘Oh,’ Cosmo mewed in surprise. ‘So can’t anybody help him then?’

  ‘The Frog-Witch is his only hope,’ Albert said.

  Cosmo glanced at the Frog-Witch, who was now cooing dotingly as she tried to tickle under the chin of a frog that was poking its head out of one of her long sleeves.

  Albert lowered his voice and added, ‘She may seem a bit loopy, but she really is one of the cleverest witches you’re ever likely to meet, Cosmo.’

  ‘Is she?’ Cosmo murmured.

  ‘Oh yes. You know how, in the local Witch Prison, all the bad witches are fitted with a special magic tag that means they get turned into frogs if they try and escape?’

  Cosmo nodded.

  ‘Well, it was the Frog-Witch who invented those tags.’

  ‘That is clever,’ Cosmo agreed excitedly, and he went on to tell Albert about the witch he used to live with – Sybil – who had got turned into a frog when she had tried to escape from prison. Sybil – who had been very bad indeed – had owned the house Cosmo’s family had lived in before the Two-Shoes family moved in – and whereas Scarlett, Goody and Gabriel were good witches, Sybil had only been
pretending to be good. Cosmo was the one who had exposed how bad she really was – and she had vowed to get him back for getting her sent to Witch Prison. But when she had tried to use even more bad magic to escape from prison, the spell had gone wrong, and instead of escaping she had been turned into a large, angry frog. And since it was a wellknown fact that no witch who had been turned into a frog had ever been turned back again, everyone assumed that Sybil was now gone for good.

  ‘I expect she’s a very ugly frog,’ Cosmo said to himself, and he shivered at the thought of ever meeting Sybil again – even if it was only in frog-form.

  The Frog-Witch was sitting down on the sofa now, with a large croaking frog on each knee. ‘Frogs are such soothing creatures to have around,’ she said, sighing contentedly as a third plump frog jumped up on to her lap. ‘I know most witches prefer cats, but I must say I find the sound of frogs croaking every bit as restful as the purr of a cat.’

  Albert gave Cosmo a wink as he jumped up on to the nearest unoccupied chair and curled up in readiness for his afternoon nap. ‘Like I told you – she’s frog mad,’ he murmured. ‘But she doesn’t mind the odd cat visiting now and again. Find yourself a chair and get comfortable, why don’t you?’

  However, Cosmo was beginning to find all the chirping and croaking and frog-song around him extremely unsoothing – not to mention the continuous hopping and jumping that was going on everywhere in the room.

  ‘I’ve been thinking . . .’ he told Albert. ‘Mother might get quite worried about me if I don’t go home soon. I know I said I wanted to be a street cat like you, but I think I’d better go and tell Mother that I’m planning on leaving home first.’

  ‘Very wise,’ Albert agreed, closing his eyes and curling one paw in front of them to block out any light that might spoil his afternoon slumber. ‘You go and speak to her about it, and if you still want to be a street cat tomorrow then come back and meet me here.’