Terry Pratchett by The Sea;Little Fishes

Author:The Sea;Little Fishes
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2011-04-07T21:13:29+00:00

‘Are there any sick people want visitin’?’

Nanny stared at the trees. It was getting worse and worse. She rummaged in her memory for anyone in the locality sick enough to warrant a ministering visit but still well enough to survive the shock of a ministering visit by Granny Weatherwax. When it came to practical psychology and the more robust type of folk physiotherapy Granny was without equal; in fact, she could even do the latter at a distance, for many a pain-racked soul had left their beds and walked, nay, run at the news that she was coming.

‘Everyone’s pretty well at the moment,’ said Nanny diplomatically.

‘Any old folk want cheerin’ up?’

It was taken for granted by both women that old people did not include them. A witch aged ninety-seven would not have included herself. Old people happened to other people.

‘All fairly cheerful right now,’ said Nanny

‘Maybe I could tell stories to the kiddies?’

Nanny nodded. Granny had done that once before, when the mood had briefly taken her.

It had worked pretty well, as far as the children were concerned. They’d listened with open-mouthed attention and apparent enjoyment to a traditional old folk legend. The problem had come when they’d gone home afterwards and asked the meaning of words like ‘disembowelled’.

‘I could sit in a rocking chair while I tell ‘em,’ Granny added. ‘That’s how it’s done, I recall.

And I could make them some of my special treacle-toffee apples. Wouldn’t that be nice?’

Nanny nodded again, in a sort of horrified reverie. She realised that only she stood in the way of a wholesale rampage of niceness.

‘Toffee,’ she said. ‘Would that be the sort you did that shatters like glass, or that sort where our boy Pewsey had to have his mouth levered open with a spoon?’

‘I reckon I know what I did wrong last time.’

‘You know you and sugar don’t get along, Esme. Remember them all-day suckers you made?’

‘They did last all day, Gytha.’

‘Only ‘cos our Pewsey couldn’t get it out of his little mouth until we pulled two of his teeth, Esme. You ought to stick to pickles.

You and pickles goes well.’

‘I’ve got to do something, Gytha. I can’t be an old grump all the time. I know! I’ll help at the Trials. Bound to be a lot that needs doing, eh?’

Nanny grinned inwardly. So that was it.

‘Why, yes. I’m sure Mrs Earwig will be happy to tell you what to do.’ And more fool her if she does, she thought, because I can tell you’re planning something.

‘I shall talk to her,’ said Granny. ‘I’m sure there’s a million things I could do to help, if I set my mind to it.’

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