A Hat Full Of Sky - Terry Pratchett [45]
The green dress was rumpled, and really it needed a wash. She had her old blue one in the chest of drawers, but somehow it didn’t seem right to wear it now. She’d have to make do with the green until she could get another one.
She went to put on her boots, then stopped and stared at them.
They just wouldn’t do, not now. She got the new shiny ones out of her case and wore them instead.
She found both of Miss Level was out in the wet garden in her nightie, sadly picking up bits of dream catcher and fallen apples. Even some of the garden ornaments had been smashed, although the madly grinning gnomes had unfortunately escaped destruction.
Miss Level brushed her hair out of one pair of her eyes and said: “Very, very strange. All the curse nets seem to have exploded. Even the boredom stones are discharged! Did you notice anything?”
“No, Miss Level,” said Tiffany meekly.
“And all the old shambles in the workroom are in pieces! I mean, I know they are really only ornamental and have next to no power left, but something really strange must have happened.”
Both of her gave Tiffany a look that Miss Level probably thought was very sly and cunning, but it made her look slightly ill.
“The storm seemed a touch magical to me. I suppose you girls weren’t doing anything…odd last night, were you, dear?” she said.
“No, Miss Level. I thought they were a bit silly.”
“Because, you see, Oswald seems to have gone,” said Miss Level. “He’s very sensitive to atmospheres….”
It took Tiffany a moment to understand what she was talking about. Then she said: “But he’s always here!”
“Yes, ever since I can remember!” said Miss Level.
“Have you tried putting a spoon in the knife section?”
“Yes, of course! Not so much as a rattle!”
“Dropped an apple core? He always—”
“That was the first thing I tried!”
“How about the salt and sugar trick?”
Miss Level hesitated. “Well, no…” She brightened up. “He does love that one, so he’s bound to turn up, yes?”
Tiffany found the big bag of salt and another of sugar, and poured both of them into a bowl. Then she stirred up the fine white crystals with her hand.
She’d found this was the ideal away of keeping Oswald occupied while they did the cooking. Sorting the salt and sugar grains back into the right bags could take him an entire happy afternoon. But now the mixture just lay there, Oswaldless.
“Oh, well…I’ll search the house,” said Miss Level, as if that was a good way of finding an invisible person. “Go and see to the goats, will you, dear? And then we’ll have to try to remember how to do the dishes!”
Tiffany let the goats out of the shed. Usually Black Meg immediately went and stood on the milking platform and gave her an expectant look as if to say, I’ve thought up a new trick.
But not today. When Tiffany looked inside the shed, the goats were huddled in the dark at the far end. They panicked, nostrils flaring, and scampered around as she went toward them, but she managed to grab Black Meg by her collar. The goat twisted and fought her as she dragged her out toward the milking stand. Meg climbed up because it was either that or have her head pulled off, then stood there snorting and bleating.
Tiffany stared at the goat. Her bones felt as though they were itching. She wanted to…do things, climb the highest mountain, leap into the sky, run around the world. And she thought: This is silly. I start every day with a battle of wits with an animal!
Well, let’s show this creature who is in charge.
She picked up the broom that was used for sweeping out the milking parlor. Black Meg’s slot eyes widened in fear, and wham! went the broom.
It hit the milking stand. Tiffany hadn’t intended to miss like that. She’d wanted to give Meg the wallop the creature richly deserved, but somehow, the stick had twisted in her hand. She raised it again, but the look in her eye and the whack on the wood had achieved the right effect. Meg cowered.
“No more games!” hissed Tiffany, lowering the stick.
The goat stood as still as a log. Tiffany milked her out, took the pail back