The Devil's Paintbox. Robin Jarvis

violet-coloured walls shifted through different hues of red and the carpet turned tangerine.

      ‘Were you always this dumb?’ Cherry asked. ‘Everything you get through this mysterious force we call magic has to come from someplace, ’specially if it’s the in-your-face, heavy-handed macho kind like what’s in the Nimius. Masculine forces follow two basic principles – control and grab.’

      ‘Female energies are the healing and nurturing ones,’ Lil added.

      ‘And the smuggest,’ Verne said. ‘Look, I’m really sorry, honest. It’s just that everything’s so bad at home. Mum and Dad are at each other’s throats the whole time. Since they fell out with your folks it’s got so much worse.’

      ‘Wait,’ Cherry interrupted. ‘Your moms and dads have had a row?’

      ‘They’re not speaking to each other,’ Lil said, embarrassed.

      ‘My mum doesn’t even like me hanging out with Lil now,’ Verne continued miserably. ‘But she knows she couldn’t stop me. When the Nimius woke up earlier, I thought it was answering my wishes. I just wanted to make everything better.’

      Cherry let her annoyance out with a long breath and the parlour dipped into softer tints of pale green, accompanied by a refreshing waft of peppermint and freshly mown grass.

      ‘Hey, I was gonna fix Lil and me a shake when you knocked,’ she said, nipping to the kitchen and returning with three tall glasses of milk, topped with creamy froth and impaled with straws. ‘What’s your favourite flavour?’

      ‘Chocolate,’ Verne said without hesitation.

      ‘And I know Lil’s is butterscotch, so here we go.’

      Setting the tray down, she waved a hand over it. There was a pulse of pale light. The milk in one glass turned a rich velvety brown and the other a pale caramel.

      ‘It’s how I first realised I weren’t quite like everyone else,’ Cherry said, passing the glasses round.

      Verne took an experimental sip. It was the most delicious milkshake he’d ever tasted.

      ‘On my sixth birthday,’ Cherry continued, ‘my daddy took me to a diner for a treat. I’d put on my prettiest new dress, candy pink with a white sash, pearl buttons, bobby socks and the dinkiest red shoes you ever saw. I was so proud to be out with him. He was shame-the-devil handsome, with his Sunday church suit and pomade in his hair. But even back then I was a contrary gal and, by the time the banana malt that I’d asked for arrived, I’d changed my mind and wanted strawberry instead. My daddy, who was just as stubborn as me, wouldn’t get it switched. So I held that glass in my hot little hands and glared at it like it was the worst calamity that ever befell a human being. Didn’t take long for that evil yellow malt to turn pink and start bubbling like a tar pit. I couldn’t stop it and I screamed. Then the glass exploded and there was strawberry gloop all over the diner. Ruined the dress and my daddy’s best suit. Never touched a banana since – but strawberries I forgave.’

      She had taken up her own glass. It was now shot through with deep pink swirls and she applied her fuchsia-painted lips to the straw.

      ‘My daddy never took me no place again,’ she said presently. ‘He vamoosed soon after and it was just me and Mom and our daily war of wills till I ran away at thirteen.’

      ‘That’s so sad,’ Lil said.

      ‘It’s part of being a witch,’ Cherry warned her. ‘It’ll turn your life inside out and sometimes you lose those dearest to you. They can’t handle what you really are, but if you try to stifle it, pretend you’re somethin’ you’re not, you’ll make yourself miserable.’

      ‘We’re OK here though,’ Lil argued. ‘Everyone in Whitby knows you’re a witch now, and how we ended the curse.’

      ‘Oh sure, they know,’ Cherry agreed. ‘And they was real grateful at first, but folks don’t like being beholden. Gratitude wears thin real fast.’

      ‘I haven’t noticed anything like that,’ Lil said.

      ‘That’s the way it goes. You’d better get ready for the backlash.’

      ‘They can say what they like,’ Lil declared. ‘I’ve been laughed at all my life because of Mum and Dad. A bit more won’t hurt.’

      ‘I’ll always be Lil’s friend,’ Verne said. ‘I think it’s fantastic she’s a witch now!’

      ‘You’ve got a chocolate moustache,’ Lil told him.

      Cherry smiled. The bond between those two was beautiful and strong.

      ‘Real friends are the truest treasure,’ she said. ‘They’re the family you choose and will be there when the real thing lets you down.’

      ‘I’m lucky with my parents,’ Lil countered. ‘They’ve been playing at being witches since they were kids themselves. Their idea of a date night was getting in the car, finding some remote spot and dancing round a bonfire in the nuddy.’

      ‘They don’t think they’re playin’,’ Cherry reminded her. ‘It’s a serious deal for them.’

      ‘Well, they don’t need to pretend any more. Their daughter is a proper witch.’

      Cherry wasn’t so sure. She felt that Lil was being a bit blind to what was happening in her own family. Changing the subject, she tapped the Nimius with her straw.

      ‘So,’ she asked Verne, ‘how strong d’you reckon this wealthus-pocus is?’

      ‘Very,’ he answered firmly. ‘I was chased across the bridge just now by a furious cloud of money that the bank spat at me. The cashpoints vommed it out and I couldn’t get away.’

      Lil started to laugh. ‘Like Winnie-the-Pooh and the honeybees?’ she cried. ‘Or money bees! I wish I’d seen that!’

      ‘Wasn’t funny!’ Verne protested. But his friend’s laughter was always infectious and he couldn’t help joining in.

      Cherry bit her lip and tried to stay stern, but the walls were shimmering pink and gold, betraying her amusement, which made Lil laugh all the louder.

      ‘What if it never stops?’ Verne giggled. ‘What if the queen comes knocking – with the crown jewels in a wheelbarrow?’

      They all laughed at that and were only stopped by an urgent banging on the front door. Looking at one another with shocked faces, they burst out laughing again.

      The insistent, battering summons continued.

      ‘It better not be Her Maj,’ Cherry said, going to answer it. ‘This Biba minidress weren’t made for no curtseys – ooh la la!’

      Verne turned the Nimius over in his hands. ‘Seriously,’ he groaned to Lil, ‘what am I going to do?’

      In the hall Cherry gave a yell. They heard the front door smash against the wall and a tall figure came stomping into the cottage.

      The face was hidden in the hood of a parka, fastened as high as the zip allowed. He wore trousers so baggy they were comical, but they were caked in mud and so were the shoes.

      Striding into the parlour, the intruder took his hands from the parka’s pockets.

      ‘Can’t be!’ Verne gasped.

      The walls and ceiling turned an angry scarlet as Cherry came storming after.

      ‘Just who d’you think you are, bustin’ in like this?’ she demanded.

      The figure unzipped the coat and pulled the hood down, revealing his tin skull and torch-lens eyes.

      ‘Pardon this unseemly intrusion,’ Jack Potts apologised. ‘I could not help myself.’

      The reels in his chest spun around and three oranges clunked to a stop. The ten pences that had been fed