get it over with,” sighed Jessica.
Amelia opened the door and promptly disappeared into thin air. The rest of us went through the open door.
“Where are you, Amelia?” hissed Peter.
“Never mind where I am,” hissed Amelia’s voice from just in front of us. “Just go!”
William and Carl were, once again, the first people we met when we got downstairs. They were exactly where we had left them, only now the grannies—Hilda and Violet—had joined them. The last two looked around at us and raised their eyebrows, telling us clearly that we were in for it. We barely had time to trade smirks with William and Carl before an angry voice echoed from the kitchen behind us, and Mum and Marge came into the room.
“So,” said Mum, seeming to swell with mounting fury before our eyes. I could tell that both Peter and Nicole were on the verge of saying, “So what”, but thankfully they held themselves in. I had to assume that us being cheeky would only make Amelia’s job more difficult.
“Hi Mum,” said Felicity cheerfully to her mother, who looked ready to breathe fire.
“In,” said Marge sharply, pointing over her shoulder back into the kitchen. “Table, now. And you two as well,” she finished, shooting a look at William and Carl.
William and Carl both looked startled. “What did we—”
“Now!”
William and Carl looked at each other, and I had to fight hard not to laugh. Something told me, clearly, that they had been treated like this at some point in the past by either their mothers or their wives many, many years ago, and they weren’t used to it. They sighed and stood up, following us into the kitchen, with Hilda and Violet wheeling themselves along in their chairs behind us all.
The six of us sat down at the table, but William and Carl, perhaps wanting to remain in some position of authority, refused to sit, and therefore remained standing on the other side of the table, facing Mum and Marge. Our mothers were standing, staring at the six of us in furious disbelief.
“Typical that you do this now instead of waiting ‘til Dad gets home,” said Nicole before any of us could stop her.
“That’s enough out of you, young lady!” snapped Mum, and Nicole fell silent. She then turned on Peter and I. “So, what do you two have to say for yourselves?”
“What’s for dinner?” asked Peter politely.
I groaned and put my hand over my face. Really, Nicole and Peter just couldn’t resist being cheeky when they had their backs against the wall. I could just imagine Hammerson holding an agonator against Peter, and him saying something really stupid to land himself in a whole lot more trouble. Another typical Playman trait, though one I didn’t carry quite like the other two, probably because I had been adopted by the Playmans rather than born into the family. Although I had picked some of the cheek up over the years. Most of it seemed to be inherent rather than learnt.
“Don’t be smart,” snapped Marge. “You know perfectly well what we’re talking about.”
“James is smarter than me,” said Peter, but I elbowed him hard to make him shut up.
“We know,” I said, preferring not to stall. “But Dad and Charlie were okay with it once they understood—”
“And since when have those two ever got it right?” Mum shot back.
“Well they’re yet to be wrong, really,” said Nicole. “I mean, we’re all still here, aren’t we?”
“Enough,” snarled Mum, and I knew that no brand of reasoning was going to work on them today; not that it ever did, when it came to our business with the Sorcerers.
“You are all grounded indefinitely,” said Marge, “and for the same sort of nonsense as this: Going out when we explicitly tell you not to. Did you forget that?”
“I thought that was over,” said Jessica. “That was nearly two weeks ago.”
“You never actually told us how long we were grounded for,” Peter pointed out. “How long is ‘indefinitely’ anyway?”
“It means you’re grounded until we say so!” shouted Mum. “You are not going anywhere tomorrow night, and nothing you or your foolish fathers say can change that. I will personally be making sure you don’t leave this house tomorrow night.”
We all stared at her for a moment, shocked at how angry she was. Finally Peter shifted his weight. “Can we leave next door’s house tomorrow night instead?” he asked, grinning in utter spite of the situation, as if he thought it might help.
“Enough of this,” snarled Mum. “I thought we’d sorted this out already. It’s bad enough that you want to party with the Hammersons, let alone stay out all night with them—”
“It’s not ‘all night’,” I said, noticing as I did so that Marge’s eyes had slid out of focus, before returning to the conversation straight away. I knew right then that Amelia had claimed her first victim. Now it was our job to keep talking about the party. “It’s just ‘til late.”
“My point exactly,” said Mum. “You’re not going anywhere. From now on you will leave this house for school only, and you will return here as soon as it’s finished, and that will be the story of your lives. We can’t stop your fathers putting their necks on the line, but you will not be in the same boat. I refuse!”
She looked at Marge for support, apparently realising that her words weren’t making much of an impression on us.
Marge thought through it, and finally said, in a defeated voice, “I’m not sure if there’s much we can do to stop them.”
“What do you mean?” snapped Mum. “Of course we can—”
“And when have they ever paid attention to what we’ve told them to do?” sighed Marge, the fight going out of her. “They just go and do whatever they like anyway. They’re still hanging around with that Marc, for one thing.”
“So you’re prepared to throw in the towel?” said Mum incredulously. I almost laughed at the sight of her and Marge in disagreement regarding our behaviour; that was one area where they usually thought alike. Luckily, I stopped myself just in time.
“Not quite,” said Marge, and she turned back to face the rest of us. “I’m prepared to allow some leniency if you agree to certain terms.”
“Good thinking,” said Mum. “For instance, you are all to be home by 11 o’clock. No later.”
“Yes,” said Marge, nodding. “And no friends will come to stay with you this time.”
“And you are all to be 100 percent sober,” joked Carl, but Mum and Marge glared at him.
“Exactly,” said Mum. “Absolutely no drinking, under any circumstances. We’ll be waiting up to smell your breath as soon as you get in.”
We looked at each other. It was better than we had expected; we would only be there for three hours, and would probably miss half the party, but three hours would be enough to show Stella that she wasn’t alone in this thing.
Unfortunately, however, the fight wasn’t over yet.
“Margaret! Marge!” shrieked Hilda, as she and Violet prepared to enter the fray.
“Do you two have a better idea?” asked Mum, glaring around at them. I had the impression that Amelia had worked her magic on her now too.
“I am astounded you would let your maternal instincts drop so easily,” said Violet, looking appalled. “There’ll be all sorts of dodgy people there. The boys will come home with black eyes and broken noses, and the girls will probably be drugged senseless, and then who knows what.”
There