Free The Worst Witch All at Sea by Jill Murphy

violent snowstorm greeted the pupils of Miss Cackle’s Academy for Witches as they returned to school for the first day of the Summer Term.
    There were two terms dividing the school year. The Winter Term, which began in September, continuing until January, and the Summer Term, which began in March, ending in July. With five solid months to each term, you can imagine how bleak it felt during the middle months, when every minute seemed like an hour, with no light flickering at the end of the tunnel.
    The girls were used to appalling weather for the first few weeks of the Summer Term because it was so early in the year, but this time it had surpassed itself.

    Miss Cackle, the kindly headmistress of the school, watched from her study window as the pupils arrived in ones and twos, battling to stay on their broomsticks, cloaks turned inside out and summer dresses flapping wildly in the screaming wind.
    Mildred Hubble, a second year, already renowned as the worst witch in the school, lurched out of the yellow-grey clouds with a crust of snow covering her broomstick, cat, suitcase and summer dress, which was a new design this year.
    Miss Hardbroom (Mildred’s horrifically strict form-mistress) had decided that the old design of black and grey

    checks was too frivolous for the girls and had persuaded the headmistress to have them replaced with nice, sensible, plain black. Miss Cackle had meekly agreed with Miss Hardbroom’s plan as she usually did (being a person who always avoided any trouble), but she had secretly rather liked the old uniform. The whole business had caused much merriment among the girls, who could scarcely believe that anyone, even Miss Hardbroom, could consider black and grey checks and grey ankle socks to be frivolous.
    Mildred wondered if she was actually frozen on to her broomstick as she struggled to steer it over the wall and into the yard. She turned to check that her tabby cat was still with her, as the poor creature was terrified of flying at the best of times and had been yowling his head off for the whole journey. He was, but as they cleared the top of the gates by inches, the little cat attempted to jump off, causing Mildred to crash-land into a deep snowdrift which curved in an elegant arc against one of the broomstick sheds. It

    was quite sheltered in the yard and Mildred lay in the snow getting her breath back, watching the other pupils coming in to land, most of them more successfully than herself.
    ‘You are a pain, T-T-Tabby,’ said Mildred, her teeth chattering with cold. ‘How am I ever going to get anywhere in this place while I’m st-t-tuck with a cat like you?’
    Tabby shook himself, and snow sprayed over Mildred’s already snow-covered face. She even had icicles hanging from the brim of her hat, and Tabby’s fur stood out in little frozen peaks. They made a sorry pair.
    ‘Maud, is that you?’ Mildred called out, as a hunched bundle of broomstick and baggage wobbled over the wall and glided into the snow a few yards away.
    ‘Millie!’ yelled a voice which was unmistakably that of her best friend.

t wasn’t much warmer inside the school than out in the snow-swept yard. There was no glass in the castle-style windows, and there were little drifts of snow in regular heaps beneath the window-ledges all the way along the corridor. Miss Cackle’s door loomed ahead and Mildred slowed to a snail’s pace to put off the moment when she would have to enter and see what she had done now, ten minutes after the start of term.
    She knocked very softly, hoping that she might not be heard.
    ‘Come in!’ called Miss Cackle’s cheery voice from inside. Mildred pushed open the door and there was Miss Cackle sitting at her desk with a glorious log fire blazing in the grate.
    ‘Ah, Mildred, my dear,’ continued Miss Cackle. ‘Come and sit here by the fire, you look absolutely frozen. I want to have a little chat with you. Ghastly weather, isn’t it?’
    ‘Yes, Miss Cackle,’ agreed