A Blink of the Screen

Lucky Dip.
    A small boy was writhing on the ground, sobbing.
    It was Pewsey, Nanny’s youngest grandchild.
    Her stomach turned to ice. She snatched him up, and glared into Granny’s face.
    ‘What have you done to him, you—’ she began.
    ‘Don’twannadolly! Don’twannadolly! Wannasoljer! Wannawanna-wannaSOLJER!’
    Now Nanny looked down at the rag doll in Pewsey’s sticky hand, and the expression of affronted tearful rage on such of his face as could be seen around his screaming mouth –
    ‘OiwannawannaSOLJER!’
    – and then at the other witches, and at Granny Weatherwax’s face, and felt the horrible cold shame welling up from her boots.
    ‘I said he could put it back and have another go,’ said Granny meekly. ‘But he just wouldn’t listen.’
    ‘—wannawannaSOL—’
    ‘Pewsey Ogg, if you don’t shut up right this minute Nanny will—’ Nanny Ogg began, and dredged up the nastiest punishment she could think of: ‘Nanny won’t give you a sweetie ever again!’
    Pewsey closed his mouth, stunned into silence by this unimaginable threat. Then, to Nanny’s horror, Letice Earwig drew herself up and said, ‘Miss Weatherwax, we would prefer it if you left.’
    ‘Am I being a bother?’ said Granny. ‘I hope I’m not being a bother. I don’t want to be a bother. He just took a lucky dip and—’
    ‘You’re … upsetting people.’
    Any minute now, Nanny thought. Any minute now she’s going to raise her head and narrow her eyes and if Letice doesn’t take two steps backwards she’ll be a lot tougher than me.
    ‘I can’t stay and watch?’ Granny said quietly.
    ‘I know your game,’ said Letice. ‘You’re planning to spoil it, aren’t you? You can’t stand the thought of being beaten, so you’re intending something nasty.’
    Three steps back, Nanny thought. Else there won’t be anything left but bones. Any minute now …
    ‘Oh, I wouldn’t like anyone to think I was spoiling anything,’ said Granny. She sighed and stood up. ‘I’ll be off home …’
    ‘No you won’t!’ snapped Nanny Ogg, pushing her back down on to the chair. ‘What do you think of this, Beryl Dismass? And you, Letty Parkin?’
    ‘They’re all—’ Letice began.
    ‘I weren’t talking to you!’
    The witches behind Mrs Earwig avoided Nanny’s gaze.
    ‘Well, it’s not that … I mean, we don’t think …’ began Beryl awkwardly. ‘That is … I’ve always had a lot of respect for … but … well, it is for everyone …’
    Her voice trailed off. Letice looked triumphant.
    ‘Really? I think we had better be going after all, then,’ said Nanny sourly. ‘I don’t like the comp’ny in these parts.’ She looked around. ‘Agnes? You give me a hand to get Granny home …’
    ‘I really don’t need …’ Granny began, but the other two each took an arm and gently propelled her through the crowd, which parted to let them through and turned to watch them go.
    ‘Probably the best for all concerned, in the circumstances,’ said Letice. Several of the witches tried not to look at her face.
    There were scraps of material all over the floor in Granny’s kitchen, and gouts of congealed jam had dripped off the edge of the table and formed an immovable mound on the floor. The jam saucepan had been left in the stone sink to soak, although it was clear that the iron would rust away before the jam ever softened.
    There was a row of empty pickle jars beside them.
    Granny sat down and folded her hands in her lap.
    ‘Want a cup of tea, Esme?’ said Nanny Ogg.
    ‘No, dear, thank you. You get on back to the Trials. Don’t you worry about me,’ said Granny.
    ‘You sure?’
    ‘I’ll just sit here quiet. Don’t you worry.’
    ‘I’m not going back!’ Agnes hissed, as they left. ‘I don’t like the way Letice smiles …’
    ‘You once told me you didn’t like the way Esme frowns,’ said Nanny.
    ‘Yes, but you can trust a frown. Er … you don’t think she’s losing it, do you?’
    ‘No one’ll be able to find it if she has,’ said Nanny. ‘No, you come on back with me. I’m sure she’s planning … something.’ I wish the hell I knew what it is, she thought. I’m not sure I can take any more waiting.
    She could feel the mounting tension before they reached the field. Of course, there was always tension, that was part of the Trials, but this kind had a sour, unpleasant taste. The sideshows were still going on but ordinary folk were leaving, spooked by sensations they couldn’t