A Blink of the Screen

drawing a big crowd.
    Clarity leaned closer.
    ‘What’s she … er … doing?’
    ‘I don’t know,’ said Nanny. ‘I think she’s decided to be nice about it.’
    ‘Esme? Nice about it?’
    ‘Er … yes,’ said Nanny. It didn’t sound any better now she was telling someone.
    Clarity stared at her. Nanny saw her make a little sign with her left hand, and then hurry off.
    The pointy hats were bunching up now. There were little groups of three or four. You could see the points come together, cluster in animated conversation, and then open out again like a flower, and turn towards the distant blob of pinkness. Then a hat would leave that group and head off purposefully to another one, where the process would start all over again. It was a bit like watching very slow nuclear fission. There was a lot of excitement, and soon there would be an explosion.
    Every so often someone would turn and look at Nanny, so she hurried away among the sideshows until she fetched up beside the stall of the dwarf Zakzak Stronginthearm, maker and purveyor of occult knick nackery to the more impressionable. He nodded at her cheerfully over the top of a display saying LUCKY HORSESHOES $2 EACH .
    ‘Hello, Mrs Ogg,’ he said.
    Nanny realized she was flustered.
    ‘What’s lucky about ’em?’ she said, picking up a horseshoe.
    ‘Well, I get two dollars each for them,’ said Stronginthearm.
    ‘And that makes them lucky?’
    ‘Lucky for me,’ said Stronginthearm. ‘I expect you’ll be wanting one too, Mrs Ogg? I’d have fetched along another box if I’d known they’d be so popular. Some of the ladies’ve bought two.’
    There was an inflection to the word ‘ladies’.
    ‘Witches have been buying lucky horseshoes?’ said Nanny.
    ‘Like there’s no tomorrow,’ said Zakzak. He frowned for a moment. They had been witches, after all. ‘Er … there will be … won’t there?’ he added.
    ‘I’m very nearly certain of it,’ said Nanny, which didn’t seem to comfort him.
    ‘Suddenly been doing a roaring trade in protective herbs, too,’ said Zakzak. And, being a dwarf, which meant that he’d see the Flood as a marvellous opportunity to sell towels, he added, ‘Can I interest you, Mrs Ogg?’
    Nanny shook her head. If trouble was going to come from the direction everyone had been looking, then a sprig of rue wasn’t going to be much help. A large oak tree’d be better, but only maybe.
    The atmosphere was changing. The sky was a wide pale blue, but there was thunder on the horizons of the mind. The witches were uneasy and with so many in one place the nervousness was bouncing from one to another and, amplified, rebroadcasting itself to everyone. It meant that even ordinary people who thought that a rune was a dried plum were beginning to feel a deep, existential worry , the kind that causes you to snap at your kids and want a drink.
    She peered through a gap between a couple of stalls. The pink figure was still sitting patiently, and a little crestfallen, behind the barrel. There was, as it were, a huge queue of no one at all.
    Then Nanny scuttled from the cover of one tent to another until she could see the produce stand. It had already been doing a busy trade but there, forlorn in the middle of the cloth, was the pile of terrible cakes. And the jar of jam. Some wag had chalked up a sign beside it: GET THE SPOON OUT OF THEE JAR, 3 TRIES FOR A PENNEY!!!
    She thought she’d been careful to stay concealed, but she heard the straw rustle behind her. The committee had tracked her down.
    ‘That’s your handwriting, isn’t it, Mrs Earwig?’ she said. ‘That’s cruel. That ain’t … nice.’
    ‘We’ve decided you’re to go and talk to Miss Weatherwax,’ said Letice. ‘She’s got to stop it.’
    ‘Stop what?’
    ‘She’s doing something to people’s heads! She’s come here to put the ’fluence on us, right? Everyone knows she does head magic. We can all feel it! She’s spoiling it for everyone!’
    ‘She’s only sitting there,’ said Nanny.
    ‘Ah, yes, but how is she sitting there, may we ask?’
    Nanny peered around the stall again.
    ‘Well … like normal. You know … bent in the middle and the knees …’
    Letice waved a finger sternly.
    ‘Now you listen to me, Gytha Ogg—’
    ‘If you want her to go away, you go and tell her!’ snapped Nanny. ‘I’m fed up with—’
    There was the piercing scream of a child.
    The witches stared at one another, and then ran across the field to the