The Witch in the Lake by Anna Fienberg Page A

sandal. Aunt Beatrice is about to squash me, she thought, and I’m as helpless as that little insect. Only it can leap away and I can’t.
    â€˜Oh, why don’t you find someone else to bully!’ Leo burst out. ‘What does it matter to you if Merilee has a little fun sometimes—’
    â€˜Fun?’ Aunt Beatrice spat the word, like water hissing over hot coals. ‘You think she has fun with you, son of a murderer? What can you offer her—you, with your family of failures! You come from the loins of a dribbling madman, from a demon whose name I won’t speak, and you want to stand in the company of my Merilee?’
    â€˜Aunt!’ cried Merilee. ‘Stop it!’
    â€˜What demon?’ asked Leo. ‘Who?’
    â€˜You take her here, to the forest, down near the lake—you don’t think about her safety, oh no, only your
fun
.’ She bent down with a grunt and picked up the recorder left lying on the ground. ‘I heard this silly noise from the top of the forest. Enjoyed your concert, did you? Nice to be entertained.’
    Merilee stared at her recorder lying in Beatrice’s plump hand. She thought of the sweat of her aunt’s palm on the smooth wood, the smell of her heavy skin on the mouthpiece. ‘Please give that back to me,’ she said, trying to control the disgust in her voice. ‘It’s mine.’
    Aunt Beatrice swung round to face her. ‘You can’t be trusted, Merilee. You’re a deceiving little liar, and liars don’t deserve to own anything. You’re going to be punished, my girl,’ and she grabbed Merilee’s arm and began to pull her towards the path.
    â€˜She’s not
your
girl, Signora,’ Leo cried after them. ‘It’s not up to you to make the rules. You’re not her mother!’
    Beatrice stopped on the path. ‘How dare you speak to me like that, you vermin. I’ll see that you’re punished too—and
santo dio
, you’ll wish you’d never been born.’
    â€˜You can’t touch me,’ Leo insisted. He was almost dancing with rage. ‘You’ve no right. Merilee’s parents are the ones to decide her fate and mine.’
    Beatrice shook her head. ‘Ah yes, poor Francesca.’ She sighed, her face settling into mock-sad lines. ‘My sister, who’s so wrung with grief she can hardly get up from her bed. You think she can make a decision about anything? Pah!’
    As Leo glared at Beatrice, he slid without thinking into
seeing
her. It was as easy as diving into a pond. And there at the bottom, at the heart of her, sat a little girl. She was curled with her knees drawn up to her chest, her head lowered against them. As Leo looked further, he saw she was all closed up like a clam, except for her hands. Her arms drooped beside her, and her palms lay open, empty, like bowls waiting to be filled.
    Leo felt a stirring of pity. She was the loneliest thing he had ever seen. But then Beatrice moved, giving Merilee a yank, and suddenly a shadow dropped over the little girl. She looked up and he glimpsed her face. A sickness rose at the back of his throat. The girl stared at him with snake eyes, yellow, flickering. Her green scales glittered and her forked tongue darted in and out of her mouth like a warning. She had a snake’s head.
    Leo closed his eyes.
    â€˜You’re coming with me, my girl,’ Beatrice said as Merilee struggled to pick up her sheet of music and push it into her bag. ‘We’re going away for a while.’
    â€˜Where?’ cried Leo and Merilee together.
    Merilee tried to hang onto Leo’s glance, but Beatrice was pulling her up the path, through the thick-growing trees. He stumbled after them, their voices drifting up the hill away from him. He caught snatches of words, but his own terror was jumbling everything he heard.
    â€˜For how long?’ Merilee asked. ‘How long will I be away?’
    Leo