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Gertie had gone to bed. ‘The
spell only worked when she relaxed a bit. What she needs is a familiar. That’ll
help her target her spells properly.’
        Ma began to think. Many witches had what they called a
‘familiar’. To most, it was a black cat. It would go everywhere with its owner,
like a pet. Even on her broomstick!
        Grothilde’s familiar was a large black rabbit, but that was
simply by mistake. Ma remembered the tale well. Grothilde had misplaced her cat
familiar. Well, she called it misplaced. Actually, Griselde had seen the poor
cat falling off Grothilde’s broomstick in full flight, then running for cover
in the hope of hanging on to its remaining eight lives. Grothilde’s “Staying on
a Broomstick” spell wasn’t very strong, because she could only focus one eye at
a time on the subject of her magic.
        For a while, the squint-eyed witch had been without a familiar.
One day though, she was walking with her sister when she spotted a black shape
go darting past out of the corner of her good eye. Calling to her sister to put
a freeze spell on the shape, Grothilde ran after it.
        ‘Are you sure?’ her puzzled sister had asked the retreating
figure. She received no reply, so did as she was asked.
        By the time Grothilde saw the creature clearly enough to realise
it wasn’t a cat after all, but a rabbit, she didn’t dare admit it. Being
remembered for the Bat Spit spell was bad enough without going down in witch
history for mistaking a rabbit for a cat too.
        ‘Did you think it was a cat?’ Mona asked, a laugh beginning to
play on the corners of her crooked, whiskery, mouth.
        ‘A cat? Course not,’ lied Grothilde. ‘What would I want another
cat for? They can’t even stay on broomsticks.’
        Mona was about to say that everyone else’s did, but thought
better of it.
        ‘A rabbit. That’s what I want,’ continued Grothilde trying to
convince herself. ‘Clever these rabbits. You’ll see.’
        It hadn’t proved itself to be clever, but it hadn’t fallen off
her broomstick yet either.
        Ma Grimthorpe pondered all this in the flickering of the fire in
the grate.
        ‘Yes, maybe you’re right, Granny. Gertie probably does need a
familiar. I’ll talk to her in the morning.’
        Granny nodded wisely, and carried on with her knitting.

Chapter Four
     
    The
next day, Ma Grimthorpe explained to Gertie that she and Gran believed it would
be best for her to have a familiar. ‘You’re growing up now, Gertie, and at nine
years of age you should have your first familiar.’
        ‘Does it matter what I choose?’ the little witch asked. Gertie
knew that most witches preferred a cat, but she had never liked them very much.
Nor had they ever liked her really. She was positively allergic to them. ‘I
only have to see a cat to set me off in a fit of sneezing,’ she continued by
way of explanation.
        Gertie’s nose gave a definite twitch if she even saw a picture
of a cat. No, a cat was definitely out.
        ‘Well no, it doesn’t matter,’ her mother agreed. ‘But it has to
be something you feel comfortable and happy with. Something you believe will be
able to help you with your spells.’
        Gertie considered Wart, and then remembered he had been the
result of a failed spell. Maybe it shouldn’t be him. He hadn’t exactly helped
Gertie with that one. He did seem an amazing toad however, as he didn’t look to
have aged at all in the time Gertie had known him. Gertie didn’t know much
about the life spans of toads, but she knew Wart should have at least appeared
older. She didn’t dwell on the subject. She was trying to find a familiar, and
Wart didn’t fit the bill.
        She went for a walk with her mother to think about it. Together,
they wandered the wood bordering their village. Gertie pondered, and Ma left
her to it while she picked herbs and weeds for her latest spell.
        ‘Don’t