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That’s what’s in all the pots, thought Tiffany, taking a sip of her tea. Experiments.
‘Glad to see you,’ Miss Tick continued. ‘I am hearing about you all the time. You know, almost every girl I meet wants to be you. They see you whizzing about all over the place on your broomstick and they all want to be you, Mistress Aching. Suddenly it’s become a career choice to be a witch!’
‘Oh yes,’ said Tiffany. ‘That’s how it starts out, and then you tell them exactly what they would spend their life doing, and quite a few of them decide to go to the big city and be a hairdresser or something.’
‘Well, I make no bones about it,’ said Miss Tick firmly. ‘I tell them to think hard; it’s not all magic and waving wands and all that silly business. It’s dirt and grime.’
Tiffany sighed. ‘Being a witch is a man’s job: that’s why it needs women to do it.’
Miss Tick laughed and continued, ‘Well, I remember a little girl who was unsure of herself and I told her that I would give her lessons that she would never forget in a hurry.’
Tiffany smiled. ‘I remember. And now I am in a hurry everywhere these days. But Miss Tick’ – she paused and her voice went a bit quiet – ‘I have a feeling that some of the older witches are beginning to think I might not be able to cope . . .’ She swallowed. ‘Up in Lancre, mostly. But it means I do have to be there a lot.’ She bit her lip – she hated asking for help. Was she saying that she wasn’t really up to the job? Letting Granny Weatherwax down, since Granny had been the one to put her name up for it. She couldn’t remember Granny ever asking for help. ‘Down here, on the Chalk,’ she said, ‘I think I maybe need to . . . er . . . train an apprentice. Have some help.’
The heavens didn’t open. There was no gasp of horror from the other witch at this request. Miss Tick simply crossed her arms sternly. ‘It’s Letice Earwig, I suppose, who’s put those doubts into people’s heads. She thinks things always have to be done the same way, so that means she would take over, I suppose? She’s a senior witch who believes she knows every blessed thing, but it’s all just tinkly-winkly stuff. The stupid woman who wrote My Fairy Friends should be ashamed to call herself a witch, and certainly shouldn’t hope to walk in the footsteps of Granny Weatherwax. Hah, Letice Earwig certainly couldn’t manage two steadings at once. She can’t really even cope with one.’ She snorted derisively. ‘Do not forget, Tiffany, that I am a teacher.fn5 And we teachers can be really nasty when it comes to it. Ten Steps to Witchcraft and The Romance of the Broomstick are not what I would call proper books. Oh, I’ll certainly look out for a girl or two for you – it’s a very good idea. But you don’t need to worry about what Mrs Earwig might say, oh no . . .’
fn1 There was the usual man-who-puts-weasels-down-his-trousers in action too. Hence the need for a doctor.
fn2 It gets awfully cold up there, and no sensible witch ever took to the skies without several layers of flannelette between her and the stick.
fn3 Another tiny clue.
fn4 ‘Enough’ wasn’t really a long enough word to describe the numerous little tasks any young woman marrying into the Ogg family found were expected of her.
fn5 Said in a way that made anyone listening know this instantly.
CHAPTER 7
A Force of Nature
LETICE EARWIG WAS not someone who would take being balked lying down. Or standing up, come to that. In truth, she was a force of nature and she hated to back dow
n on anything.
It hadn’t taken her long to hear that there had been a queue one day outside Nanny Ogg’s home. Tiffany Aching, Mrs Earwig decided, was Not Coping. And it needed a witch of senior stature to Do Something about it. In Letice Earwig’s opinion – never a small thing – she was in fact the only witch who had the stature to act, especially as that old baggage Nanny Ogg wouldn’t do a thing.
Mrs Earwig had married an elderly retired wizard many years before. ‘Wizards ain’t allowed to get married,’ Nanny Ogg had told Tiffany scornfully. ‘But the silly man got what was comin’ to him. Talk about hen-pecked, he was earwig-pecked. She got through all his money, so they says!’
Tiffany wisely didn’t rise to that; it was quite probable that ‘they’ were actually Nanny Ogg, who hated Mrs Earwig with an unrelenting determination.
But that was why she was relieved when Nanny Ogg wasn’t there when Mrs Earwig arrived at Granny’s cottage one morning a week or so later, for what she called ‘one of her little chats’. It would have been better, on reflection, if Mrs Earwig hadn’t found Tiffany out in the garden up to her elbows in suds in the middle of doing some washing for old Mr Price.
Tiffany’s heart sank when she saw the woman coming,fn1 but she wiped her hands on a towel and welcomed her visitor into the cottage with as much politeness as she could muster. Mrs Earwig had a tendency to treat Tiffany like a child, and also she had bad manners, such as sitting down without being asked. Mrs Earwig did, indeed, sit down in Granny’s old rocking chair, and she gave Tiffany a smile of blatant insincerity, then made it worse by saying, ‘My dear girl!’
‘Woman,’ said Tiffany quietly as Mrs Earwig looked her up and down. She was acutely conscious of the suds still clinging to her apron and her dishevelled hair.
‘Well, never mind,’ said Mrs Earwig, as if it didn’t matter. ‘Now, I thought I should come, as a friend and as one of the oldest witches in this area, to see how things were going and to offer some constructive advice.’ She looked around the kitchen with a superior air, with a particularly sharp glare at the dust that was happily playing little games with itself over the stone flagstones, and Tiffany was suddenly very aware of the spiders which had remained in residence in the scullery, with lots of little ones adding to the colony – she hadn’t the heart to move them.
‘Don’t you think you are overstretched trying to look after two steadings, my dear?’ Mrs Earwig added with a saccharine smile.
‘Yes, my dear Mrs Earwig,’ Tiffany said back, rather sharply. ‘I am stretched because there is a lot to do in both places and not much time.’ Which you are taking up, she thought. But two can play at your game. ‘If you have some advice,’ she added with a smile to match Mrs Earwig’s, ‘I’ll be glad to hear it.’
Mrs Earwig was never one to ignore an invitation. Not that she had needed one, anyway, since she immediately launched into a prepared speech.
‘I’m not saying you are a bad person, my dear. It’s just that you can’t cope, and people are talking about it.’
‘Perhaps they do,’ said Tiffany. ‘And often they thank me, but I am just one woman – that is woman, not girl – so I can’t do everything at once. It’s just a shame that there aren’t more elder witches around . . .’ Her voice trailed off, the memory of Granny Weatherwax lying in her willow casket still too fresh in her mind.
‘I understand,’ said Mrs Earwig. ‘It isn’t your fault.’ Now her voice was silky smooth, but just a shade beyond patronizing and moving towards out and out rudeness. ‘You have indeed been flung into areas you can’t manage, and you are in fact far too young, dear Tiffany. To take the right steps on the path of Magick, you surely need the counsel of an elder witch.’ She sniffed. ‘A serious elder witch with the right . . . approach. No . . . family ties.’ And it was clear that she did not consider Nanny Ogg to be a candidate for this task.
