A Blink of the Screen

that—’
    ‘Had we? Really?’ She picked up the poker from the hearth and prodded fiercely at the fire. ‘I’ll give matters my consideration.’
    ‘I wonder if I may be frank for a moment, Mistress Weatherwax?’ said Letice. The poker paused in mid-prod.
    ‘Yes?’
    ‘Times are changing, you know. Now, I think I know why you feel it necessary to be so overbearing and unpleasant to everyone, but believe me when I tell you, as a friend, that you’d find it so much easier if you just relaxed a little bit and tried being nicer, like our sister Gytha here.’
    Nanny Ogg’s smile had fossilized into a mask. Letice didn’t seem to notice.
    ‘You seem to have all the witches in awe of you for fifty miles around,’ she went on. ‘Now, I dare say you have some valuable skills, but witchcraft isn’t about being an old grump and frightening people any more. I’m telling you this as a friend—’
    ‘Call again whenever you’re passing,’ said Granny.
    This was a signal. Nanny Ogg stood up hurriedly.
    ‘I thought we could discuss—’ Letice protested.
    ‘I’ll walk with you all down to the main track,’ said Nanny, hauling the other witches out of their seats.
    ‘Gytha!’ said Granny sharply, as the group reached the door.
    ‘Yes, Esme?’
    ‘You’ll come back here afterwards, I expect.’
    ‘Yes, Esme.’
    Nanny ran to catch up with the trio on the path.
    Letice had what Nanny thought of as a deliberate walk. It had been wrong to judge her by the floppy jowls and the over-fussy hair and the silly way she waggled her hands as she talked. She was a witch, after all. Scratch any witch and … well, you’d be facing a witch you’d just scratched.
    ‘She is not a nice person,’ Letice trilled. But it was the trill of some large hunting bird.
    ‘You’re right there,’ said Nanny. ‘But—’
    ‘It’s high time she was taken down a peg or two!’
    ‘We-ell …’
    ‘She bullies you most terribly, Mrs Ogg. A married lady of your mature years, too!’
    Just for a moment, Nanny’s eyes narrowed.
    ‘It’s her way,’ she said.
    ‘A very petty and nasty way, to my mind!’
    ‘Oh, yes,’ said Nanny simply. ‘Ways often are. But look, you—’
    ‘Will you be bringing anything to the produce stall, Gytha?’ said Gammer Beavis quickly.
    ‘Oh, a couple of bottles, I expect,’ said Nanny, deflating.
    ‘Oh, homemade wine?’ said Letice. ‘How nice.’
    ‘Sort of like wine, yes. Well, here’s the path,’ said Nanny. ‘I’ll just … I’ll just nip back and say goodnight—’
    ‘It’s belittling, you know, the way you run around after her,’ said Letice.
    ‘Yes. Well. You get used to people. Goodnight to you.’
    When she got back to the cottage Granny Weatherwax was standing in the middle of the kitchen floor with a face like an unmade bed and her arms folded. One foot tapped on the floor.
    ‘She married a wizard,’ said Granny, as soon as her friend had entered. ‘You can’t tell me that’s right.’
    ‘Well, wizards can marry, you know. They just have to hand in the staff and pointy hat. There’s no actual law says they can’t, so long as they gives up wizarding. They’re supposed to be married to the job.’
    ‘I should reckon it’s a job being married to her,’ said Granny. Her face screwed up in a sour smile.
    ‘Been pickling much this year?’ said Nanny, employing a fresh association of ideas around the word ‘vinegar’, which had just popped into her head.
    ‘My onions all got the screwfly.’
    ‘That’s a pity. You like onions.’
    ‘Even screwflies’ve got to eat,’ said Granny. She glared at the door. ‘Nice,’ she said.
    ‘She’s got a knitted cover on the lid in her privy,’ said Nanny.
    ‘Pink?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Nice.’
    ‘She’s not bad,’ said Nanny. ‘She does good work over in Fiddler’s Elbow. People speak highly of her.’
    Granny sniffed. ‘Do they speak highly of me?’ she said.
    ‘No, they speaks quietly of you, Esme.’
    ‘Good. Did you see her hatpins?’
    ‘I thought they were rather … nice, Esme.’
    ‘That’s witchcraft today. All jewellery and no drawers.’
    Nanny, who considered both to be optional, tried to build an embankment against the rising tide of ire.
    ‘You could think of it as an honour, really, them not wanting you to take part.’
    ‘That’s nice.’
    Nanny sighed.
    ‘Sometimes nice is worth tryin’, Esme,’ she said.
    ‘I never does anyone a bad turn if I can’t do ’em a good one,