Sarah barged through the door, just in time for morning tea, although I don’t think that was intentional. “We have a problem.”

“Oh?”

You remember how, ages ago, Ben and I were here, and we made a treasure map of the garden?”

“Yes. It was quite a good map, although I’m not sure the pond was the best place to put the treasure.”

“Yeah. Ben thought it was a good map too, and he’s done a new, proper version for the school art competition.”

So there’s possibly a fantastically mislabelled map of my garden doing the rounds of the teachers’ lounge at Ben’s school. Amusing, but I wasn’t yet seeing the problem.

Sarah clearly thought I should. “Ben’s new copy isn’t a treasure map; it’s a proper map, with proper labels, that the teachers are all saying are ‘delightfully imaginative’. And if it wins the contest, it’s going to be turned into the new mural for the playground wall.”

She slumped at the table. “And Bella’s dad’s on the judging panel and she says that he said that the map is the best bit of art and far and away the best option for a mural, but he’s worried that publicising your poison garden, among other things, was possibly not a desirable action.”

I could almost hear Lord Mason in Sarah’s tones.

She wasn’t finished. “AND, the school’s been working on this eco-ed thing and making a veggie garden, and touring local ones and even if Ben’s map doesn’t end up on the wall, they’re totally, definitely, going to ask to do a class excursion here.”

Yes, because bringing a group of hyperactive tweenagers into a witch’s garden, complete with pond monster, poison grove, and sentient bees was in no way a recipe for disaster. “You’re right, we do have a problem.”

“It’s not like any of the teachers are from around here, or even country. They’re all from cities, mostly London.”

Sarah said ‘London’ the way older people said ‘cesspit’. No bias in my young neighbour at all.

“Best to prepare for the worst, then. Let’s assume I’m ‘persuaded’ into allowing a rampaging horde of flitterbrains to visit my garden. Most of their parents are local, and aware. I’ll have to insist every child is accompanied.”

“Could we ask the pond monster to have a holiday or something? Visit Loch Ness for a long weekend?” Now my young apprentice was thinking through options. Good. Not that I was about to agree to this visit, but preparation, even of the hypothetical type, is good exercise.

“We could ask. Although it might decide it wants to meet Ben’s friends.”

Sarah groaned. “But we can at least lock the poison garden, right?”

“A perfect solution provided none of the unwanted guests are the climbing type.” Which, let’s face it, most kids were at that age. Trees, rocks, sheds, anything to get higher up, as if that was a better place to be.

A bad thought occurred. “Does this map show the wood-side entrance?”

“Yes.”

“Then that’s our real problem. Once they know it exists, they’ll find it. Not as a guided herd, but as over-curious little imps who haven’t told anyone where they’re going.”

And since I think those city-bred teachers are likely to be as susceptible to the temptation as their pupils, I reached for the box of warding crayons. “Come on, I’m going to teach you some new repelling wards for the gate.”

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