A Hat Full Of Sky

want her whole life to—
    Hold on…
    “Who’s there?” said Tiffany. “Did someone just say ‘cheese cutter’?”
    She peered around the room, as if someone could be hiding behind the bundles of dried herbs. It couldn’t have been Oswald. He’d gone, and he never spoke in any case.
    Tiffany grabbed the pail, spat on her hand, and rubbed out the chalked Help Me .
    — tried to rub it out. But her hand gripped the edge of the table and held it firmly, no matter how much she pulled. She flailed with her left hand, managing to knock over a pail of milk, which washed across the letters…and her right hand let go suddenly.
    The door was pushed open. Both of Miss Level was there. When she pulled herself together like that, standing side by side, it was because she felt she had something important to say.
    “I have to say, Tiffany, that I think—”
    “—you were very nasty to Petulia just—”
    “—now. She went off crying.”
    She stared at Tiffany’s face. “Are you all right, child?”
    Tiffany shuddered.
    “Er…yes. Fine. Feel a bit odd. Heard a voice in my head. Gone now.”
    Miss Level looked at her with her heads on one side, right and left in different directions.
    “If you’re sure, then. I’ll get changed. We’d better leave soon. There’s a lot to do today.”
    “A lot to do,” said Tiffany weakly.
    “Well, yes. There’s Slapwick’s leg, and I’ve got to see to the Grimly baby, and it’s been a week since I’ve visited Surleigh Bottom, and, let’s see, Mr. Plover’s got gnats again, and I’d better just find a moment to have a word with Mistress Slopes…then there’s Mr. Weavall’s lunch to cook. I think I’ll have to do that here and run down with it for him, and of course Mrs. Fanlight is near her time, and”—she sighed—“so is Miss Hobblow, again…. It’s going to be a full day. It’s really hard to fit it all in, really it is.”
    Tiffany thought: You stupid woman, standing there looking worried because you just haven’t got time to give people everything they demand! Do you think you could ever give them enough help? Greedy, lazy, dumb people, always wanting all the time! The Grimly baby? Mrs. Grimly’s got eleven children! Who’d miss one?
    Mr. Weavall’s dead already! He just won’t go! You think they’re grateful, but all they’re doing is making sure you come around again! That’s not gratitude, that’s just insurance!
    The thought horrified part of her, but it had turned up and it flamed there in her head, just itching to escape from her mouth.
    “Things need tidying up here,” she muttered.
    “Oh, I can do that while we’re gone,” said Miss Level cheerfully. “Come on, let’s have a smile! There’s lots to do!”
    There was always lots to do, Tiffany growled in her head as she trailed after Miss Level to the first village. Lots and lots. And it never made any difference. There was no end to the wanting .
    They went from one grubby, smelly cottage to another, ministering to people too stupid to use soap, drinking tea from cracked cups, gossiping with old women with fewer teeth than toes. It made her feel ill.
    It was a bright day, but it seemed to darken as they walked on. The feeling was like a thunderstorm inside her head.
    Then the daydreams began. She was helping to splint the broken arm of some dull child when she glanced up and saw her reflection in the glass of the cottage window.
    She was a tiger, with huge fangs.
    She yelped and stood up.
    “Oh, do be careful,” said Miss Level, and then saw her face. “Is there something wrong?” she asked.
    “I…I…something bit me!” lied Tiffany. That was a safe bet in these places. The fleas bit the rats and the rats bit the children.
    She managed to get out into the daylight, her head spinning. Miss Level came out a few minutes later and found her leaning against the wall, shaking.
    “You look dreadful ,” she said.
    “Ferns!” said Tiffany. “Everywhere! Big ferns! And big things, like cows made out of lizards!” She turned a wide, mirthless smile onto Miss Level, who took a step back. “You can eat them!” She blinked. “What’s happening?” she whispered.
    “I don’t know, but I’m coming right down here this minute to fetch you,” said Miss Level. “I’m on the broomstick right now!”
    “They laughed at me when I said I could trap one. Well, who’s laughing now, tell me that, eh?”
    Miss Level’s expression of concern turned into something close to