The Shop Witch’s Quest
Aisha Bushby
Published by Barrington Stoke
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Westerhill Road, Bishopbriggs, Glasgow, G64 2QT www.barringtonstoke.co.uk
HarperCollinsPublishers
Macken House, 39/40 Mayor Street Upper, Dublin 1, DO1 C9W8, Ireland
First published in 2024
Text © 2024 Aisha Bushby
The moral right of Aisha Bushby to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988
ISBN 978-0-00868-851-6
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in whole or in any part in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior permission in writing of the publisher and copyright owners
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
Chapter 1 Witch Wares Emporium
In a land of monsters and magic, there were two sorts of people. There were the heroes who protected everyone from danger and went on brave adventures to fight epic battles, and there were the witches who lived peaceful lives filled with practical magic and clever potions that kept everything working.
Laurel was a thirteen-year-old shop-witch who sometimes wished she was a hero. She wanted to go on adventures, to climb tall mountains and fight dragons. But, instead, she was stuck looking after her parents’ magic shop.
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The magic shop was in the village of Elfingham, and it was called Witch Wares Emporium. Inside, it was like a maze, and instead of a roof it had a huge glass dome that spilled light into every corner. The shelves were packed with things like magic wool that you could use to weave magic clothes, and jars to store memories you didn’t want to forget. On the floor of the shop were armchairs that hid your deepest darkest secrets, umbrellas with silver linings to protect you from bad thoughts, and rugs to sweep your problems under.
Laurel’s parents had nipped out for the morning to go to the town meeting about the dragon crossing. The crossing happened every year, but the witches needed to check that everyone knew what they had to do. The firewitches needed to be ready to put out fireballs, and the dung-witches had to clean up all the dragon poop. Laurel’s parents had to make
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sure their shop was stocked with everything the other witches needed to do their jobs.
Laurel had been waiting all morning for a customer. But so far the only person who’d come in was the seam-witch. She had delivered a new set of red velvet curtains that could predict the weather. The shop was often empty now because a big shopping centre had opened just outside the village, and everyone went there instead.
“I’m bored!” said Laurel to Bedlam, her cat. Bedlam was Laurel’s familiar – a companion that every witch had. “I’ve been cleaning all morning,” Laurel continued, “and there’s still loads to do. Maybe I’ll use a spell to dust the shelves. It would be much quicker!”
“No!” yowled Bedlam. “The last time you tried to do that, you made your father’s eyebrows vanish. We can’t afford to have all of the shop items vanish too.”
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“His eyebrows grew back, didn’t they?” Laurel insisted.
“Yes, but it would have been better if you hadn’t made the mistake in the first place.”
“I know,” frowned Laurel. “But that was when I thought ‘tidy’ meant to make something look better, not put it away.”
On Laurel’s school report, her teacher had said she was “a stubborn witch with plenty of spirit”. That meant Laurel could be a good witch, if only she learned from her mistakes. Luckily, she had Bedlam to help her. The only problem was, he didn’t seem to trust her.
Suddenly, Laurel and Bedlam heard the shop bell ring, and their first customer walked in. It was Agatha, the grumpiest witch in the village. She was a garden-witch, in charge of growing all the plants for making potions, which made her feel very important.
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“Hello?” Agatha said, before she’d even reached the counter. “Can I please get some service?” Laurel sighed. “Hello, Agatha.”
“Oh,” said Agatha, looking round in a grumpy way. “I’ve been calling for ages . Didn’t you hear me?”
Laurel smiled sweetly and said, “I’m sorry, Agatha. It won’t happen again,” but she also muttered a secret curse to make Agatha’s stockings slip down her legs and bunch up in her boots in a way that was really annoying. Agatha was always telling Laurel off. It wasn’t fair! “I need some self-writing parchment,” Agatha said crossly. “And some new polish for my cauldron.”
“We’ve just run out of polish, I’m afraid, but I’ll get your parchment,” said Laurel.
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Agatha huffed and puffed. “That’s no good!” she said. “When your grandmother ran the shop, she was never out of stock of anything. I might have to do my shopping at the shopping centre instead. I bet they never run out of things there …”
Laurel wanted to cast another secret spell on Agatha, but she thought Bedlam would find out and tell her off, so she turned around and carried on tidying up instead.
After Agatha left, it took Laurel a very long time to finish all the dusting, mopping and polishing. When she was just about done, the bell rang again.
Laurel was very excited to see who had come in this time: it was a hero!
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