Mrs Ellie Cragbrook
“Go on Ollie, knock on the door. She won’t hurt us.” Pammy and Ollie stood at the bottom of the steps to 106 Linter Street; Mrs Ellie Cragbrook’s house.
“I’ll knock on the door in a minute”, spouted Ollie to his sister, annoyed at her persistence.
The house looked shabby and unloved, with broken window panes and holes in the woodwork that showed evidence of mice.
Ollie took a cautious step forward, onto the creaky steps, that led to a leafy porch-way. He paused, “Maybe I’ll get my ball back tomorrow.” He was wary of the fierce temper of Mrs Cragbrook, which he had experienced in the past.
“Don’t be silly. We’re here now.” Pammy huffed and rolled her eyes.
Mrs Ellie Cragbrook had lived in the house for 73 years, since she was a little girl. She never had any visitors, ’maybe because she is so old and grumpy’ thought the children.
“Go on, knock on the door” Pammy demanded and nudged Ollie forward.
“But I’m scared,” he squealed as he held onto the gate post, stopping himself being pushed any further. “She might put a spell on us and then cook us in a stew!”
Pammy was ten years old, petite and rather energetic. “Oh Ollie, when are you going to learn to stand up for yourself? She can’t hurt us!” and she looked at him with her big brown eyes and cute infectious smile, hoping he would suddenly have an air of braveness.
“I can’t help it,” he said almost in tears but holding them back. He didn’t want to appear cowardly.
Pammy was younger than Ollie by a couple of years, but she was the braver of the two. Maybe because she was a bit of a tomboy who loved to get dirty and get involved in any scrap that she came across.
Now Ollie, he was a little different. Actually, he was a lot different. He was tall and skinny and always played the big brother routine by telling Pammy what to do, how to behave and where and when she should go out. But she never listened to him.
“Don’t be a wuss! She won’t put us in a stew. She can’t hurt us. If she tries anything I’ll bite her long warty nose off and tread hard on her gammy toes!” Pammy screwed up her face and acted out the movements by stamping her feet, showing him how she would do it.
Ollie turned away, fumbled around in his trouser pocket and retrieved a coin. “If you knock on the door I’ll give you 50p from my pocket money?” and he enticed her by holding out a fifty pence coin that shone brightly in the sun.
Pammy grabbed the money and without hesitation she opened the gate, ran up the steps and gave three hard knocks to the door. Then, she ran back down and quickly hid behind Ollie, poking her head around him.
“Don’t hide behind me. You can face her as well,” he said and pulled her from behind him; maybe she wasn’t that brave after all.
They waited nervously at the bottom of the steps for Mrs Cragbrook to answer.
“Do you think she’s in?” asked Pammy. “Maybe she’s dead. She is so very old.”
“Don’t be a fool! She can’t die. Witches live forever.”
Pammy thought for a moment, “Do you think anyone has ever loved her, being as ugly as she is? Have you seen that bushy eyebrow that goes all the way across her forehead? And she doesn’t have many teeth either,” her voice raised a pitch or two higher.
“I know,” giggled Ollie, “but I’m sure she didn’t always look like that.”
“Ollie. She’s here” whispered Pammy alertly as she grabbed hold of her brother’s arm.
The old lady’s bulging eyes peered through the window in the door.
“Who is it?!” Mrs Cragbrook shouted out in a loud and screechy tone. “What do you want? I’ll take your breath and bottle it, if I catch you!”
She opened the door and stood on the porch. The bent-over lady waved her fist in the air, which raised her blue print dress to reveal crinkly knees and crumpled tights. She held onto a walking stick with the other hand to support herself.
“What do you ’orrible imps want?” She glared at the children as she stood screwing up her wrinkled face.
Ollie took a large gulp then plucked up the courage to speak, “Excuse me, Mrs Cranbone. Can we have our ball back? It’s gone over the wall and into your-“ he barely finished.
“Mrs Cranbone?! Mrs Cranbone?! How dare you!” she exploded, spitting and spluttering as she screamed. “It’s Mrs Cragbrook!” Her despair vibrated the air. She was infuriated with the children’s ignorance. “No you can’t have your ball back and don’t ever come to my door again!” She steadied herself holding on to the banister as she descended the steps, “And stay away from my garden. Anything that comes into my garden stays in my garden. If I catch you, I’ll put you into a stew and feed you to the pigs!”
The children turned and ran out of the gate, down the path as fast as they could and back into their own house.
Pammy looked over her shoulder and poked out her tongue, just as Mrs Cragbrook looked around and saw her. With her slightly bulbous eyes, she stared at Pammy with an angry glare.
“I’ll get you, you ’orrible child!” and the old woman closed the door to the outside world.
“You’re old, ugly, and wrinkly, and nobody loves you!” Pammy shouted back, but her comments landed on deaf ears.
It all started earlier on that Saturday morning and the children were full of high spirits. They got up, had their breakfast, did their chores and finished their homework. Then they went outside to play with Ollie’s ball; it was his favourite ball as it had been signed by his favourite football team. Normally it wasn’t to be played with but Ollie gave in, just this once, to Pammy’s pestering.
“We must be careful with it. I don’t want to get it ruined!” Ollie exclaimed, holding it back from Pammy.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be careful.” She leant forward, snatched it from his hands and ran off.
They were happily playing; throwing and kicking the ball to each other but as Pammy went to kick the ball, Treacle, their dog ran in front of her. Trying to avoid hitting Treacle, she kicked the ball off at an angle but accidently aimed towards Ollie, hitting him hard in the face. He was not pleased.
“Ouch, that hurt!” His face went bright red. He screwed up his fists and kicked the ball as hard as he could. It flew into the wall and bounced, catching the flower pot, knocking it over then hitting the corner of the shed. The ball travelled high into the air, over the six foot wall and disappeared. “Oh no, my ball, my favourite ball!” he fell to his knees, holding his hands up to his face, covering the shame that he felt.
Treacle, the black and white Springer Spaniel, ran round and around in circles then bounced up and down. “Woof, woof” he barked. He couldn’t understand where the ball had gone.
“Don’t worry, Ollie,” said Pammy, holding out a hand of sympathy. “We’ll get it back. We’ll go and see the old bat next door and ask for it back.”
“That’s not going to work. She’s evil, you know she’s a witch,” retorted Ollie. “She’ll put us in a stew and feed us to some pigs. She said once before that she would do it.”
“Don’t be silly. She doesn’t scare me,”
Ollie took a deep breath and sighed, “Ok, we’ll give it a go but I’m warning you- she’s evil, she really is.” He was quite scared of her and clasped his hands tightly to his chin.
Off they went, through their house and out of the front door.
“You must wait here,” Pammy told Treacle and he reluctantly waited, staring at the door and pricking his ears up at every sound.
Fifteen minutes later they came back running through the front door, slamming it behind them.
Treacle was there to greet them, wagging his tail and jumping up.
“I told you she was evil,” said Ollie trying to catch his breath.
Pammy was crouching down laughing hysterically, while Treacle was trying to lick her face. He wondered what was going on.
“It’s not funny,” moaned Ollie, “she nearly got us.”
Pammy suddenly stopped laughing, she had an idea. “I know... How about tonight when everyone’s asleep? We can go over the wall and get it back ourselves.” Her eyes widened as she waited for Ollie to accept her brilliant idea.
Ollie looked at Pammy, turned away and walked up and down their hallway with his arms crossed then stopped in front of her. “You know, that may actually be a good idea.”
That night Pammy laid in her bed waiting for her parent’s light to go off in their bedroom, but they were taking a long time. In the end she fell fast asleep.
“Wake up Pammy, wake up, it’s time to go. Mum and Dad are asleep now.” Ollie stood over her.
Pammy sat up and rubbed her eyes, “Oh, I must have fallen asleep,” she yawned widely.
“Come on Pammy, we need to get going,” and he started to pull her up.
“Okay, Okay, I’m gonna get dressed.” She flipped the covers back and slowly climbed out of bed, still yawning.
Treacle heard the children and came up to see what was going on. “Woof, woof” he barked.
“Quiet Treacle, we don’t want to wake Mum and Dad up,” demanded Ollie and then he listened to see if he could hear his parents, but it was still quiet. “Phew, that was close.”
“I’m ready now. Shall we go?” Pammy said excitedly, now she was fully awake. She was dressed in a little pink cotton top and a pair of pale blue shorts.
“You can’t wear that,” retorted Ollie with a look of disbelief.
“Why?”
“Because it’s dark and it will be cold out there. It’s not summer time you know,” and he turned her around to get changed.
“Okay,” she said, feeling a bit miffed that she couldn’t wear what she wanted. She got changed anyway, into her long patchwork jeans and brightly coloured striped jumper.
Ollie was dressed in much the same - blue jeans, green jumper, white t-shirt and they both wore trainers. Standing at the window in Ollie’s bedroom, he asked, “Are we ready then?”
Pammy nodded and Treacle wagged his tail.
The window opened out onto the bathroom roof, it was easy to climb onto and it was flat, so at least they wouldn’t slide off and hurt themselves.
Mrs Cragbrook’s garden could be seen from Ollie’s window. Even though it was dark with limited light from the moon, they could see it quite clearly. It was a normal garden full of overgrown grass, wild flowers and lots of weeds. There was nothing out of the ordinary.
“We will be there and back in no time, and Mum and Dad won’t even know we’ve been gone” said Ollie, certain that their planned trip over the wall would be undiscovered. He opened the window and climbed out.
Treacle jumped out after him, not waiting to be told if it was okay, and then Pammy climbed out with Ollie’s help.
They crept to the furthest corner of the roof where it joined to the wall, and there they sat with their legs dangling over the edge, towards the garden.
Treacle stood next to them with a look on his face as if to say, where are you going and please don’t leave me behind?
“Sorry Treacle. We can’t take you,” said Ollie, thinking he knew what was on his mind.
But Treacle was not accepting that, “Woof, woof, woof” he barked.
“Shush or you’ll wake everyone up,” whispered Ollie sternly, as he held onto Treacle’s nose.
Pammy looked around. “Look, over there,” she pointed to a corner of the garden. “There’s a step ladder. We can get back with that and then Treacle could come with us too. You said we aren’t going to be long.”
Ollie tousled Treacle’s fur, “Ok you can come with us, but you must be quiet.”
The excited dog ran round in a couple of circles, then sat back down and scratched his floppy ears with his back paw.
Pammy and Ollie sat on the wall, ready to jump and Treacle stood beside them, trying to keep his balance.
“Okay, we go over the wall and get my ball.... Where is my ball?” Ollie looked around but he couldn’t see it anywhere.
“Don’t worry, we’ll find it,” said Pammy, having a good look around.
“I hope the witch hasn’t taken it inside,” he replied.
“Okay, I’m ready,” said Pammy, trying to hurry him along. She was excited about doing something she wasn’t meant to be doing.
Treacle just sat with his head tilted and his tongue hanging out and waited.
“Okay then...’ said Ollie, ’1, 2, 3, Jump,” and all three of them jumped.
