The Darke Toad Read Online Free PDF Page B

was settled by a nasty kick to the shins that left Veronica hobbling down the corridor in Linda’s wake.
    Simon followed Daphne and her wheelbarrow, in which lay a large black metal box containing, he guessed, the woodworms. The box was covered in tiny writing, which Simon stared at, trying to decipher.
    â€œNosy, aren’t you?” said Daphne.
    Simon sprang back. “Sorry,” he said. “I mean, about your woodworms.”
    Daphne immediately thawed. No one had ever been nice about her woodworms before. “They’re my friends,” she said. “I know every single one of them. Look, I’ve written all their names on the box.”
    Trying to be friendly, Simon asked, “Gosh. How do you think up so many names?”
    Daphne looked indignant. “I don’t think them up. They tell me what their names are. Stupid .”
    â€œOh. Yes. Of course they do.”
    Daphne sighed. “They are all in there except for Louise, Paulie, Bernina and Freddo, who are stuck on the spikes of the Witch Mother’s shoes. Oh, and Dukey, who died last night. Do you want to see him?”
    â€œOh! Well, no, thanks, I—”
    But Daphne was not listening. From her pocket she pulled out a surprisingly large—and clearly dead, judging by its stiffness and the amount of pocket fluff stuck to it—segmented fat brown worm with stumpy legs. “He was one of my favorites,” Daphne said sadly. “I used to tell him bedtime stories, and he had his own little house and everything. But he got ill last week after I fed him some cat food. You don’t think I killed him, do you?”
    Simon thought that Daphne probably had, but he knew better than to say so. “No, of course not,” he said.
    Daphne dropped the ex-Dukey back into her pocket, wiped her arm across her eyes and sniffed. “It was probably Linda. Nasty cow.” With that, the witch grabbed the handles of the wheelbarrow and trundled out of the kitchen.
    Simon followed the procession down the dark corridor toward the front door. Suddenly everyone came to a halt. A door opened and Dorinda came out, a huge towel wrapped precariously around her head.
    â€œOh, hello, Dorinda,” the Witch Mother said, as though nothing to do with elephant ears had ever happened. “We’re going out. You coming?”
    Dorinda gingerly patted her towel and gave a small, brittle smile. “Oh, not tonight, thank you, Witch Mother. I’ve just washed my hair.” And she wandered back into the shadows.
    The witches staggered down the corridor and fell out of the front door, screaming with laughter.
    From its perch on the doorknocker, the Darke Toad watched its Master go. It waited its statutory Listening Time —five minutes and a little bit more—then it hopped down and set off along the street, following its Master as a Darke Toad must.

7
ALICE AT THE WINDOW

    I t was two in the morning, and a small, high window on the ground floor of the Customs House still showed a light. Alice Nettles, Chief Customs Officer to the Port, believed in doing her fair share of the late shift, but she was beginning to wish she weren’t quite so evenhanded. A large shipment of brown Wellington boots had come in on the late tide and a dispute had arisen about the classification of the boots (work or domestic use) and consequently which rate of duty applied to them. Alice had settled the argument by impounding the lot, and some half an hour ago had sat down to write her report. It was tedious but it had to be done—tomorrow was another busy day.
    Alice was an imposing, businesslike woman, with gray hair and more often than not a stern expression, which she had acquired from her time working as a judge at the Castle. But tonight she looked tired and a little lonely as she sat in the chilly little office with her deep blue Customs Officer robes wrapped around her. She was, to her relief, reaching the conclusion of her