All I can think is that the witch cast a spell on Will to make him go dumb - before he shoved her in the wardrobe.
Poor kid. I just left him, at home, sitting at the kitchen table, staring into space. He wasn't even bothered that the cat had got hold of his best wizard's hat and was rolling it around under his feet, clawing at the purple tassles, pulling some off.
The police have just been with him. A man and a woman. Asking him what happened. I can't see that he's to blame in any way. They'll want to speak to me. I'll tell them the witch was trying to steal his powers. Or Abigail can tell them. That's my girlfriend. She'll explain it better than me.
They can't send 14-year-olds to prison, can they? Not a real prison.
He looked terrible. I couldn't get him to say anything.

2

It all started a few weeks back. I'd just got home from rugby and Will was playing with the cat while mum cooked Sunday lunch. He followed me upstairs to my bedroom and sat on the end of the bed. "What's up?" he wanted to know.
"Nothing" I told him, but I wasn't fooling anybody.

[
A couple of years ago mum and dad stopped praising Will, and his schoolwork, when I was there. They thought I'd be jealous, but it's not in me to be jealous. He got the brains and I got left with the brawn, I suppose, but I'm proud of him.
Besides, he's a funny kid, and I think you can be too sensitive.
]

Because I'd said it was going to be an easy game, and I'd come in dragging my kit bag behind me on the ground, he'd worked out there was something else on my mind.
"It's this girl," I said, "Abigail" and I blushed as I said her name. It's not that I was uncomfortable. I can talk to Will about this stuff. No-one else though.
Will smiled at me and I thought: that was the first time I'd said Abigail's name.

[
If there's anything about Will that I am jealous of, though, It's that he can talk to girls. He's got loads of friends that are girls, but they're a strange bunch.
I don't think they own any clothes that aren't black and they smoke too much. A few weeks back I asked: "Where do they keep their broomsticks?"
But Will just looked at me and said: "Chris, I would expect better from you."
Like I said, you can be too sensitive.
I told him I wished I could talk to girls like he could and he said: "If I had a pound for every girl that said to me 'you're Chris's little brother, aren't you?' I would be a very rich man."
I felt terrible that I'd made fun of his friends and I said sorry.
]
I started to pull my top off and pretended to get it stuck over my eyes, so he couldn't see me blushing.
I told him that I'd liked Abigail for ages, but I hadn't dared speak to her because she's so clever and beautiful and anyway, I was happy to admire her from a distance.
"Then Phil told me that his girlfriend, another Abigail, had told him that Abigail liked me and wanted me to ask her out."
I stopped and Will said: "That's great, isn't it?"
"No, because I was going to talk to her... some time. Now I can't, because if I mess it up, I'll know I've really messed up, knowing that she likes me..."
Sometimes Will can look really old, in his eyes. Maybe it's just that he doesn't get enough sleep, or eat enough fruit. He sat on the bottom of the bed, not saying anything, while I unpacked my rugby kit and threw it in the laundry basket. Then I went for a shower.
He was still there when I got back. He said: "Do you believe in magic?"
I laughed. "You mean witches, wizards and spells?"
He said: "Yes."
I said: "No."
Doing my hair in the mirror, I could see the reflection of the cat, standing in the doorway, watching us.
Will said: "You don't think that you can use certain words to make strange things happen?"
I said: "No."
"When you said 'Abigail' before, your face went red and your eye started twitching."
"What are you talking about?"
"Love is just a spell you cast on yourself. When she walks into a room, can't you tell that she's there, even if you haven't seen her. If you think about it, it's scary, but it's just part of the spell. You can change the spell, if you know what you're doing."
The cat had gone from the doorway. I wondered if it was sitting in the bottom of my wardrobe, as it sometimes does, shedding hairs on my jumpers. But Will had got me interested. I sat down on the bed next to him.
I said: "Go on."
"I can help you, but..."
"What?"
"You'll have to pay me."

3

She was watching me: our next door neighbour, from her window, as I was polishing her car. A really nice convertible MG. I wondered why she was watching me, because I always did a good job. I didn't look back at her. I was feeling awkward after what mum had said earlier that day.

[ "You've been doing a lot of work for Miss Williams next door," she said softly. She'd been standing, chopping a cucumber for the salad. She'd put the knife down before she spoke so I knew she was trying to say something. "You haven't got a little bit of a crush on her, have you?"
"Mum," I said, squirming, "Don't be stupid. She must be about thirty." Mum looked at me quietly for a second, in the same strange, sort-of-sad way that Will sometimes does. They've got the same eyes. Then she shook her head and carried on chopping. "Thirty, you think? Well, if I were you I wouldn't tell her you think she looks thirty. She can't be more than 24 or 25, love." I was out of the door before she could kick off her "you're just like your father" speech.
]
Crouching to do the front bumper, I saw Miss Williams had disappeared from the window. Then she appeared at the front door, lit a cigarette and wandered over.
"How is it going?" she said.
I looked up and found myself staring straight at her chest. She was wearing jeans and a tight, pink jumper. She was squinting into the sun and it looked like she'd been out all night. But the sun on her face, and in the blonde bits in her hair, made her look pretty.
I picked up my rag and turned back to the bumper, probably too quickly. I said: "Fine, I'm nearly done."
She sucked on her cigarette. I knew she was looking at me, thinking. Why does everyone do that? She said: "Where is it all going, Chris?"
"Sorry?"
"I mean the money. You've been doing all this work for me. Don't get me wrong. I appreciate it, but I'm sure there are other things you'd rather be doing?"
I didn't know what to say.

[
It had been a week since Will had given me a copy of the spell he said I needed and it was working, well, it was working like a charm.
He'd torn a sheet from his A4 pad, sat down at his desk, written a couple of sentences, folded it up and handed it to me. He said: "Say this three times and then go and speak to her."
"What shall I say?"
"It doesn't matter. Just read the spell first, and whatever you say will be fine."
"How much do I owe you?"
Will said he didn't want to charge me, but it was the rules. The Ministry and Magic, Will said, want royalties every time you cast a spell. I asked how the Ministry would find out, but he just laughed. I unfolded the paper and read the words.
Something shifted inside my head. It's hard to describe, but after reading it, I could see myself talking to Abigail, and I could see it being fine.
£10 a week ought to keep the Ministry happy, Will said. Although I've paid for the spell, I can't tell you what it is, I'm afraid, because that would be infringing the Ministry's copyright, and we'd both get into trouble.
And he's in enough trouble as it is.
]

I told Miss Williams I was saving up to buy a rowing machine. I've no idea why I said I was saving up to buy a rowing machine. She smiled at me, finished her cigarette, flicked the end of it into the bucket of water I'd used to wash her car, and went back into the house without saying anything.

4

On the Thursday of the next week, one week and four days after Will had given me the spell, I was at the cinema with Abigail. It was our second date. She looked really, really great in her black dress. Quite a few lads, even some with girlfriends, were looking at her.
It was a subtitled French film. I didn't have a clue what was going on, even though I was reading the translation. Abigail said that, after a while, she got used to the French and didn't need to read the words. "It's strange," she said as we were walking out, "it's like magic."

[
Things had been going well with Abigail, I thought.
As I'd been getting ready to go out, Will sat on the end of my bed. I said I couldn't believe that I'd been nervous about speaking to Abigail. Now, I said, it would seem strange to not speak to her.
He smiled and said: "That's the power of the spell."
But then he asked seriously: "What's you favourite thing about her?"
We'd kissed a couple of times and it was really, really good. I didn't want to do anything else. Kissing felt like enough for now. I said: "I don't know."
He said: "What do you like about the time you spend with her?"
I thought of something straight away and I could see that Will had seen it, so I said: "I feel proud to be with her. I can't believe that someone as good as her: I mean as smart and as beautiful, would want to be with me."
Will frowned and had started to say something about it being time for a new spell when the doorbell rang. He jumped off the bed, like the cat sometimes does, said he hoped I had a good time, and disappeared down the stairs.
]

I was standing in the cinema waiting for Abigail to come out of the toilet when I saw Miss Williams over by the giant glass tube full of popcorn. She noticed me at the same time as I noticed her and she came over. She said: "Either you're a closet fan of art house cinema or you're on a date."
"I'm on date. She's in the loo."
Miss Williams had her hair up and she'd painted her nails pink. She said: "It will be good to meet your rowing machine. What's her name?"
Then Abigail came out of the toilet and stood next to me. Both of them waited for me to say something. I said: "Abigail, this is Miss Williams, our next door neighbour. Miss Williams, this is Abigail, my girlfriend."
They shook hands. Miss Williams said: "Abi".
Abigail said: "Abigail."
Miss Williams said: "No, sorry, my name's Abi. It's Abigail too, really, but I call myself Abi."
"Abigail Williams?"
"Yes, I know. 'I saw Goody Proctor with the Devil'."
They laughed together. I had no idea what they were talking about. Then Miss Williams reached by me to stub her cigarette out in an ashtray on a ledge just behind me. She said, "So, Abigail, what are you doing hanging around with this idiot?"
"Well, you know, he's a really good shag."
I was so embarrassed. I wanted to disappear in a puff of smoke. I couldn't believe my ears. Suddenly, I felt I didn't know Abigail at all. It got worse when, on the way home, she asked me about the odd jobs I did for Miss Williams. I said I washed her car every week. I told her it was a really nice convertible MG, but she wasn't interested. She wanted to know why my face was red when she'd come out of the toilet.
I said: "It was hot."
I have no idea why I said it was hot. I should have explained about the rowing machine, but I knew I wouldn't be able to, and it would make things worse. Walking up to Abigail's front door, I grabbed her and pulled her towards me for a kiss. But she pulled away, saying she was expecting a phone call from a friend in New Zealand who she was going to stay with next year, on her year out before university. She said she'd see me tomorrow, and disappeared inside.
At home dad was sitting at the kitchen table. I asked him if he'd finished with the sports section of the paper. He didn't say anything. I saw that he was asleep. When I got to bed, though, I couldn't concentrate on reading it. I spent ages lying and thinking what I was going to do. Then I started wondering who Miss Williams had been at the cinema with, and I went to sleep.

5

By Sunday, everything was fine again, because Will had given me a new spell. He said it was important I didn't read it until just before I spoke to Abigail. When I read it, I could see why. On Friday, I'd found her in the dinner hall, handed her a bunch of daffodils, and walked straight back to the table with Phil and the others.
I'd asked Will whether I would have to pay for the new spell on top of the first one. He said I would, but the two together would be £17.50. It wasn't that the second spell was cheaper, he explained, it was that it was spring, and the Ministry had a special offer on for love spells.
I needed to get the money from somewhere.

I could tell Miss Williams was surprised to see me when she opened the door, even though most of her face was hidden by the paintbrush between her teeth.
"You've come just at the right moment," she said, after taking the brush out of her mouth and waving me into the kitchen where the kettle was boiling. "I was just about to get started."
Standing between the end of the sofa and her wardrobe, which she said she kept in the lounge because there wasn't room for it in her bedroom, Miss Williams held the step ladder while I rolled paint backwards and forwards across the ceiling.
"How's it going with the rowing machine?" she asked.
I think I was waiting for her to ask.
"Good, I think." But then I didn't know what else to say, so I said: "How's it going with yours? Boyfriend, I mean."
She let go of the stepladder and, while I didn't feel I was in danger of falling, I felt less secure. She said: "What makes you think I've got a boyfriend?"
"You were at the cinema and..."
"Girls don't go to the cinema on their own, or with friends?"
"It's not that."
"It's that I'd made an effort. Nice black dress, painted my nails."
"Sorry."
"Don't be. Like most assumptions, it's correct. It's just funny that... Well, since you ask, he's not my boyfriend. He wants to be, or he thinks he does. He'll keep wanting to be until I let him. or shortly afterwards."
I must have just stood there, staring down at her in her overalls.
She said: "So tell me about the rowing machine. I wonder if you think she's a great as she obviously thinks she is."
"I think she's great."
"You know she'll dump you, don't know? When you go away to university, if not before."
"I... don't think she will."
"What makes you so sure? What strange power do you have over her?"
Miss Williams rested her arm on the rung of the ladder where my right foot was and ran her fingertips up and down the hair on my ankle.
For some reason I said: "That would be telling."
When she smiled at me I realised I must have been smiling, nervously, at her. Then she put her foot on the bottom rung of the ladder and pulled herself up towards me. Then she ran her hand up between my legs and brought her smile right up to my face.
Her hair was tied up, like it had been at the cinema, but it wasn't the same. I thought: this is not how things should be. I thought: maybe doing this will break the spells. So I didn't kiss her back.
She jumped off the ladder. Her face was red. She said: "Chris, what the fuck do you keep coming round here for if it isn't that you want to fuck me? I know girls are expensive to keep, but yours can't be that expensive. Not yet, at least. Why are you here?"
I felt awful. I was worried the spells might be broken anyway. I thought I owed her an explanation.
And now I regret it more than I've ever regretted anything, or ever will. I told her everything: about the spells, what was in them, how they'd made Abigail like me, how I needed money to pay Will so he could pay the Ministry of Magic.
And all the time Miss Williams sat on the end of the sofa, which was covered in an old white blanket, listening to me and watching me, smoking cigarettes and using a paint tin lid as an ashtray. When I started muttering something about being sorry that I'd given her the wrong impression, she interrupted.
"You don't seriously believe all that stuff about magic, do you? What your brother has been selling you, Chris, are not magic spells, but choice snippets from some ridiculous American self-help manual..."
She was about to say something else, but then she stopped, and put her cigarette out.
She said: "Do you know what I do for a living?"
I said: "No."
"I'm a psychiatrist. You don't know because you never asked. Once we've finished this ceiling, I want you to go home and send your brother round here. Ok?"
I said: "Ok."
She said: "But you're not convinced, are you?"
"I don't know."
"I'm not saying what Will did isn't working, because it obviously is. But it can't last. I mean, it will only take you so far, or keep it going for so long. Things will start going wrong after a while. Or maybe they wouldn't, but you're living in a fantasy world."
I said: "Am I?"
I must have looked totally deflated. She wasn't angry anymore. She looked like she felt sorry for me. She started to say something else, but then she stopped, suddenly, wandered over to the open window and stood there, her hand on the sill.
She said: "I don't know. What the fuck do I know? Before I bought this place I was living with my boyfriend: ex boyfriend now. I didn't even like him when we started seeing each other. He just intrigued me."
Miss Williams looked at me to see if I believed her and I must have looked like I did.
She went on: "I laughed at him, rather than with him. But I underestimated how much I like laughing, and he grew on me. I thought everyone else would think he was awful, so I wasn't worried about him sleeping with anyone else. Then he slept with one of my friends. Said they had more in common. He said he wanted his life to be more like art."
I made a face.
She said: "Yeah. Exactly. Life more like art? Sounded just like the sort of crap she used to come out with - my ex-friend that is. Now his life is like Art: different cast every six months or so. Same old story."
Miss Williams looked at me again, and I could see she was annoyed because I didn't understand the last thing she'd said.
"Don't worry. I was being clever. But being clever doesn't get you anywhere, or maybe it's that I'm not clever enough..."
I didn't say anything. I was sitting on the bottom rung of the step ladder.
She said: "Youngish girl like me, living on her own in the least cheap part of town, driving a nice convertible. Everyone must think I've got it all. Well, I spent all of my savings on the car and it made me feel better for a while: almost a whole cast rotation."
She laughed, stood on her toes, and blew smoke out of the window: "And I bought a convertible because I'm claustrophobic. Really badly."
I said: "I'm really sorry. I'm late for meeting Abigail. I'll come back tomorrow and finish off."
She said: "You don't need spells, you know. Just be yourself."
"Will that work?"
"She'll probably dump you sooner, but it will save you wasting your time."

I started to feel sick. I thought it was the paint fumes, but then I realised it wasn't. Then I thought it was that I was scared Abigail would dump me, but then I realised that while I was scared about that, it wasn't what was making me feel sick.

I said: "Do you think Will is really ill?"
"I won't know until I speak to him."
"I don't know."
I said: "Thank you."
"That's ok," she said, trailing a cigarette end around on a paint tin lid, "but you've got to do one thing for me."
"What?"
"You've got to promise to help me paint the whole house - and I want you to tell Abigail that you've been casting spells on her."
"Really?"
"I think it's only fair."

6

Will was on his way out of the door when I got back to the house. He said: "What's wrong?"
I said: "Are you coming back later on? I've got to talk to you."
"Yes, I'm coming back. What's up?"
"Tell you later. I should have been at Abigail's 15 minutes ago."
He ran off down the road, his best wizard's hat under one arm and his spell book under the other. I called after him: "Will, what does claustrophobic mean?"
He called back: "I think it means someone who's allergic to Christmas."

7

It was nearly dark by the time I got to Abigail's house. As I walked up the drive, I could see her, sitting on the sofa in the kitchen, reading one of those books with brightly-coloured covers, about twenty-something women living in London. Her mum answered the door and showed me through to the kitchen, where Abigail was chopping courgettes for dinner. On the worktop, fanned out next to her, was the Lonely Planet Guide to New Zealand.
"Sorry I'm late."
"It doesn't matter. But you do smell of paint, and cigarettes."
So I told her everything, like Miss Williams said I should. About Will, about the spells, what was in the spells and how they had made her like me, how I needed to clean Miss Williams car every week so I could pay the Ministry of Magic's fees...
And all the time she sat, on the sofa in the dining room with the New Zealand book covering her knees, listening to me and watching me, picking at her cardigan and dropping little pieces of fluff into a bowl of pot pourri.
I told her I'd told Miss Williams about the spells and I told her what Miss Williams had said about them.
Like I said before, Will got all the brains in our family. Before it occurred to me it might be a bad idea to tell Abigail about Miss Williams trying to kiss me, I'd already started the story. I couldn't think of a way out of it.
She looked upset. I didn't want her to think too badly of Miss Williams, so I told Abigail that she was claustrophobic. Wasn't it sad, I said, that someone should be allergic to Christmas? Abigail looked at me as if she didn't know who I was.
Abigail picked up the New Zealand book and started leafing through it. She said: "Chris, do you think I would have let those spells work on me if I hadn't wanted them to? What makes you think Will is the only one with a spell book? Remember you said the other day that for a long time, whenever I was near your throat went dry, your heart started pounding and you felt dizzy?"
I said: "Yes."
She said: "Well, it got your attention, didn't it?"
"But Miss Williams said..."
"I heard what Miss Williams said. Miss Williams is not a good witch like Will and I, she's an evil witch. She wants you to send Will to see her because she's planning to steal his powers. She's not interested in you, she's just using you to get to Will."
I said: "What should I do?"
Abigail tore a piece of paper from her A4 notepad and began writing.
She said I should leave straight away, find Will and send him round to Miss Williams' house, just as she'd asked. I should tell him to push Miss Williams into her wardrobe, lock the door or jam it shut, then shout what she'd written on the piece of paper three times, and run home as fast as his legs could carry him.
She handed me the spell. It said: "Ka mate koe i te kai hikareti".
She said it was raw spell code: more powerful. It was her own spell, she said, and it had nothing to do with the Ministry.
I started to say something else, but she interrupted me: "You'd better go. There's no time to waste."
"I'll see you later."
She'd picked up the knife and started chopping courgettes again.
She said: "Yeah."

8

I went straight home and told Will everything. He sat there, wide eyed, taking it all in. When I'd finished he stood up and asked me for the piece of paper with Abigail's spell. He took it, read it, smiled, and went to knock on Miss Williams' door.
I don't know exactly how long he was in there. I went to my room and watched the house. Half an hour later a police car pulled up. A man and a woman got out. My heart started pounding, my throat went dry and I felt dizzy. Will opened the front door. The man and the woman went inside. Ten minutes later an ambulance appeared. Two ambulance men went in. Five minutes later they brought Miss Williams out on a stretcher. The policewoman held Will's hand as she led him towards our house. The policeman was speaking into his radio. I stood at the top of the stairs and saw the back of dad's head as he lead them all - the policeman and woman, Will and mum, into the study. About half an hour later I saw Will come out of the study and go into the kitchen. I waited five minutes and tip-toed down the stairs.
Like I said, I couldn't get a word out of Will. I rescued his best wizard's hat from the cat, putting it out of harm's way on the table in front of him. I asked him what happened, over and over, but he wouldn't talk to me. He just kept staring into space. I went out into the hall and up to the study door, to try and listen. But the washing machine was on in the kitchen, washing my rugby kit, so I couldn't pick out much of what they were saying. I heard the policeman say "claustrophobic" and then "a stroke", Then I felt sick. I went back into the kitchen, but Will had gone. The cat had got his best wizard's hat and was rolling it around on the floor again. It was strange, because I hadn't heard the door open. And Will never leaves the house without his wizard's hat.
Anyway, I'm walking up Abigail's drive now. I'm ringing the bell... no answer. I'm ringing it again... no answer. I know there's someone in, because all the lights are on. The house is lit up like, well, a Christmas tree. I'll keep trying.

By Chris Dillabough, 31.03.01 - 17.09.01