Wintersmith

to sort out stupid little problems, and I don’t have a clue what they’re about. And this morning there was this old man who’s dead and I’ve got to lay him out and sit up with him tonight. Well, I mean, that’s so…yuk….”
    Tiffany glanced at Nanny Ogg, who was sitting in her chair and puffing gently on her pipe. Her eyes were gleaming. When she saw Tiffany’s expression, she winked and said: “I’ll leave you girls to have a little chat, shall I?”
    “Yes, please, Nanny. And please don’t listen at the door.”
    “To a private conversation? The very idea!” said Nanny, and went into the kitchen.
    “Will she listen?” whispered Annagramma. “I’ll just die if Mistress Weatherwax finds out.”
    Tiffany sighed. Did Annagramma know anything? “Of course she’ll listen,” she said. “She’s a witch.”
    “But she said she wouldn’t!”
    “She’ll listen, but she’ll pretend she hasn’t and she won’t tell anyone,” said Tiffany. “It’s her cottage, after all.”
    Annagramma looked desperate. “And on Tuesday I’ve probably got to go and deliver a baby out in some valley somewhere! An old woman came and gabbled at me about it!”
    “That’ll be Mrs. Owslick,” said Tiffany. “I did leave some notes, you know. Didn’t you read them?”
    “I think perhaps Mrs. Earwig tidied them away,” Annagramma said.
    “You should have looked at them! It took me an hour to write them all down!” said Tiffany reproachfully. “Three pieces of paper! Look, calm down, will you? Didn’t you learn anything about midwifery?”
    “Mrs. Earwig said giving birth is a natural action and nature should be allowed to take its course,” said Annagramma, and Tiffany was sure she heard a snort from behind the kitchen door. “I know a soothing chant, though.”
    “Well, I expect that will be a help,” said Tiffany weakly.
    “Mrs. Earwig said the village women know what to do,” said Annagramma hopefully. “She says to trust in their peasant wisdom.”
    “Well, Mrs. Obble was the old woman who called, and she has just got simple peasant ignorance,” said Tiffany. “She puts leaf mold on wounds if you don’t watch her. Look, just because a woman’s got no teeth doesn’t mean she’s wise. It might just mean she’s been stupid for a very long time. Don’t let her anywhere near Mrs. Owslick until after the baby. It’s not going to be an easy birth as it is.”
    “Well, I know plenty of spells that will help—”
    “No! No magic! Only to take away pain! Surely you know that?”
    “Yes, but Mrs. Earwig says—”
    “Why don’t you go and ask Mrs. Earwig to help you then?”
    Annagramma stared at Tiffany. That sentence had come out a bit louder than intended. And then Annagramma’s face slid into what she probably thought was a friendly expression. It made her look slightly mad.
    “Hey, I’ve got a great idea!” she said, as bright as a crystal that was about to shatter. “Why don’t you come back to the cottage and work for me?”
    “No. I’ve got other work to do.”
    “But you’re so good at the messy stuff, Tiffany,” said Annagramma in a syrupy voice. “It seems to come naturally to you.”
    “I started at the lambing when I was small, that’s why. Small hands can get inside and untangle things.”
    And now Annagramma had that hunted look she got when she was dealing with anything she didn’t immediately understand.
    “Inside the sheep? You mean up its…”
    “Yes. Of course.”
    “Untangle things?”
    “Sometimes the lambs try to get born backward,” said Tiffany.
    “Backward,” muttered Annagramma weakly.
    “And it can be worse if there’s twins.”
    “Twins…” Then Annagramma said, as if spotting the flaw: “But look, I’ve seen lots of pictures of shepherds and sheep and there’s never anything like that. I thought it was all just…standing around and watching the sheep eat grass.”
    There were times when you could feel that the world would be a better place if Annagramma got the occasional slap around the ear. The silly unthinking insults, her huge lack of interest in anyone other than herself, the way she treated everyone as if they were slightly deaf and a bit stupid…it could make your blood boil. But you put up with it because every once in a while you saw through it all. Inside there was this worried, frantic little face watching the world like a bunny watching a fox, and screaming at it in the hope that it would go away and not hurt her.