Free Magicalamity by Kate Saunders

much!”
    Tom put down his burger. The word had been said, and he couldn’t look at Dahlia.
    She was as cool as a cucumber. “Murder? Oh, darling—don’t be silly.”
    “What REALLY happened to your husbands? And don’t give me any rubbish about exploding coffee machines,” said Iris.
    “If you murdered them,” Lorna said, “that’s a major violation of the fairy code.”
    “Oh, pooh!” snapped Dahlia. “For the last time, I haven’t murdered anyone! Darling, I couldn’t murder a fly!”
    Tom glanced at the portrait of Mr. Grisling above the fireplace. “Hey!” He’d shouted it out before he knew what he was doing. All three godmothers turned to look at him. He pointed at the portrait. “That’s the same guy who brought the food!”
    “Good grief, he’s right!” cried Lorna. “The late Mr. Grisling isn’t late at all! She’s found a way of turning him into a slave and nicking all his money!”
    Dahlia looked sulky. “You make it sound so vulgar.” She caught Tom’s eye. “It’s really not as bad as that, darling—I don’t want you to think I’m the wrong sort of fairy.”
    Lorna chuckled with her mouth full. “How many slaves have you got, then?”
    “Eleven,” Dahlia said.
    “I thought you’d had twelve husbands,” Iris said. “Where’s the other one?”
    “He wasn’t a mortal. Don’t you remember? My first husband was a Cornish piskie—Sir George Trebonkers. Looking at a picture of him would be too painful. After our divorce he went back to his ghastly castle in the Realm. The last I heard he was shacked up with some goblin or other. So much for love!” Dahlia sighed.
    “Ha! I could imagine so when its interchangeable with slave labor,” said Iris.
    Lorna chuckled unkindly. “That’s a bit rich coming from you!”
    “What’s that supposed to mean?”
    “You cast spells on children and make them steal for you.”
    “Does she indeed?” snapped Dahlia. “She goes all goody-goody about my husbands, and she’s Fagin in a cardigan! Don’t you preach at me, Iris Thingy!”
    Iris’s face flushed a dull red. “It’s MOTH, thank you very much! I use the money I get for the benefit of the school! It pays for scholarships for poor girls! I don’t use my magic to turn a lot of decent men into slaves!”
    “No—because it takes a bit more than magic—and you never had the right equipment!”
    “Pooh!” shouted Iris. “At least I’m not a wrinkled old tart full of Botox!”
    Dahlia hissed, “You still haven’t forgiven me, have you? I had Jonas and you didn’t—and you can’t get over it!”
    Iris’s blush deepened until her face was nearly magenta. “He wasn’t in love with you!”
    “Maybe not,” Dahlia said. “But he wasn’t in love with Milly, either! And you know it, Iris Wasp!”
    “MOTH!” shrieked Iris.
    “Hey!” Lorna cried out sharply, her mouth full of burger. “The boy!” She glanced at Tom. “How d’you think he likes hearing about his dad’s love life?”
    For a split second Dahlia was confused. If her forehead hadn’t been so tight she would have scowled. “All right, we won’t rake up the past.”
    “It’s just silly,” Lorna said, “now that we’re all old.”
    “Speak for yourself!” snapped Dahlia. “You look NINETY and your bum’s so big it has its own POSTCODE!”
    Lorna’s face became thunderous—Tom had never seen her so angry. She sprang to her feet. “I like having a big bum! You should try it sometime!”
    She gabbled a few words, and Dahlia let out a bloodcurdling scream—“ARRGHH!” There was a ripping sound. Her bum had grown so huge that it had burst right out of her tight black skirt. Lorna and Iris both broke into howls of laughter.
    “Oh, very funny!” Dahlia magicked back her slender figure and quickly checked her reflection in the big mirror. “If you want to behave like a cow, Lorna Mustard, you can BE a cow!” She raised her arm.
    “NO!” shouted Tom. “Stop it! Stop fighting!” He was