The Last Task. Nathan Reed

looked miffed. Like all actresses, she was a bit of a show-off and expected everyone to listen to her all the time. She sighed.

      “Go on,” said Jessica. “I think the Feet First Fund sounds brilliant.”

      Heckitty Darling smiled prettily and moved her stool closer to Jessica’s.

      “The treasure, the absolute pearl of our collection, is a pair of shoes that had once belonged to that wonderful witch, the inventor of the Modern Witch’s Right-Way-Up broom, dear Dame Walpurga of the Blessed Warts.

      I discovered them at the bottom of Walpurga’s well myself, you know, despite what Professor Cobbleroni says.”

      “Who’s Professor Cobbleroni?” asked Jessica.

      “Oh, she runs that ridiculous Fancy Footwear Foundation. Anyway, I had hardly put the Dame’s shoes on display when they disappeared! I turned my back and puff! – they were gone.”

      “But who took them?” asked Jessica.

      Heckitty Darling raised her shoulders and let them drop. “We’ve no idea. We had had a lot of witch school tours that day so at first I suspected a prank. I tried any number of anti-vanishing spells to make the shoes reappear, but nothing worked. Then we organised a witch hunt. Oodles of witches took part, but the Dame’s shoes were nowhere to be found.”

      Heckitty Darling’s voice trembled again. “I’m afraid they may be gone for good.”

      “Goodness gracious,” said Jessica.

      “Fortunately,” said Heckitty, dabbing at her nose with a handkerchief, “I had the excellent idea of consulting an oracle.”

      “I once had to consult an oracle myself,” said Jessica, proudly. “It was a talking sea anemone on one of the Charm Islands.”

      Heckitty looked affronted. She obviously had not expected Jessica to know anything about oracles.

      “A talking sea anemone? How preposterous! The oracle that I went to is a Greek witch. She’s easily the best fortune teller in the world – people flock to ask her questions. Unfortunately, she tends to answer in riddles; it can be simply impossible to understand a word she says.”

      Behind her, Miss Strega’s cup rattled once again.

      “So, the long and the short of it,” Heckitty continued, “is that last night when the curtain came down on the show in Coven Garden, (have you seen my reviews, darlings? Simply marvellous!) I flew to the oracle to ask where the shoes could be. This is what she said …”

      Heckitty closed her eyes and began to speak in a very strange unearthly voice.

       “To find the shoes, no witch is fitBut she who is not a witch as yetMust fly to where a giant stands.The answer lies beneath his hands.”

      She opened her eyes and spoke in her normal voice.

      “What do you make of that?”

      “Weird,” said Jessica.

      “Absolutely baffling,” agreed Miss Strega.

      “Unless,” said Jessica, holding up a finger, “I have a hunch. Perhaps the oracle is saying that only a witch-in-training can find the shoes – she who is not a witch as yet.”

      Heckitty clapped her hands together. “By the hooting of Minerva’s owl, Miss Strega, I think Jessica’s got it.”

      “Bravo, my little lamb’s lettuce!” agreed Miss Strega.

      Heckitty Darling opened her handbag and, with a flourish, thrust an envelope into Jessica’s hands.

      “So, will you take on the Feet First Fund challenge? Will you track down Dame Walpurga’s missing shoes?”

      Jessica’s jaw dropped.

      “But, but,” she stammered. “Where should I … how do I … what’ll … when …”

      “Jessica,” said Miss Strega sternly. “You’re gibbering. I think it’s a splendid idea. There’s nothing more exciting than a quest. Of course you must do it.”

Chapter Three

      When Heckitty had left to tell the Feet First Fund how Jessica had agreed to help find the shoes, Jessica opened the envelope. It contained a colour photograph of Dame Walpurga’s shoes on display in the Shoe Salon at Goven Garden.

      They were purple boots with pearly buttons up the side and a tassel at the top and might once have been quite pretty, but they were in a terrible condition. The heels were stumpy and lopsided, the toes were scuffed and scratched, and the tassels had seen better days.

      Jessica shook her head. “I don’t believe it! These shoes may have been Walpurga’s but they’re wrecked. Whoever took them must be her Number One Fan, because nobody else would wear them.”

      Miss Strega tapped her nose. “Possibly not, but look at the label.

      “The Broomstick Battles?” said Jessica. “I did a project about that. Dame Walpurga led the modern witches (who flew with the twigs in front) against the cross old-fashioned witches (who flew with the twigs at the back). It was your grandmother Pluribella who led that bunch …”