I Shall Wear Midnight - Terry Pratchett [24]
Tiffany settled for saying, ‘Her mother will be worrying.’
‘Is that so?’ said Jeannie. ‘And did her mam worry when she left the poor thing taking a beating?’
Tiffany wished the kelda wasn’t so astute. People used to tell Tiffany that she was so sharp she would cut herself, but the kelda’s steady grey gaze could chop iron nails.
‘Well, Amber’s mother is … she’s not very … clever.’
‘So I hear,’ said Jeannie, ‘but most beasts is short on brains, and yet still the doe will stand her ground to defend her fawn, and a fox for her cub will face down the dog.’
‘Humans are more complicated,’ said Tiffany.
‘So it seems,’ said the kelda, her voice chilly just for that moment.
‘Well, the soothings is working fine, so maybe the girl needs to be back in your complicated world?’
Where her father is still alive, Tiffany reminded herself. I know he is. He was bruised, but he was breathing, and I hope to goodness he sobers up. And is this problem ever going to end? It has to be sorted out! I’ve got other things to do! And I’ve got to go and see the Baron this afternoon!
Tiffany’s father met them when they walked into the farmyard; Tiffany generally left the broomstick tied to a tree just outside, in theory because flying overhead frightened the chickens, but mostly because she was never able to land very gracefully and certainly didn’t want an audience.
He looked from Amber to his daughter. ‘Is she all right? She looks a bit … dreamy.’
‘She’s had something to calm her down and make her feel better,’ said Tiffany, ‘and she shouldn’t run around.’
‘Her mum has been in a dreadful state, you know,’ Tiffany’s father went on reproachfully, ‘but I told her you were looking after Amber in a very safe place.’
There was more than a hint of ‘You are sure about that, aren’t you?’ in the way he spoke, and Tiffany was careful to ignore it, and simply said, ‘I was.’ She tried to imagine Mrs Petty in a dreadful state, and it didn’t work. Every time she had ever seen the woman she had a look of baffled apprehension, as if life had too many puzzles and you just had to wait until the next one hit you.
Tiffany’s father pulled his daughter to one side and lowered his voice. ‘Petty came back in the night,’ he hissed, ‘and they say that someone tried to kill him!’
‘What?’
‘True as I’m standing here.’
Tiffany turned to Amber. The girl was staring at the sky as if hoping patiently for something interesting to happen.
‘Amber,’ she said carefully, ‘you know how to feed chickens, don’t you?’
‘Oh yes, miss.’
‘Well, go and feed ours, will you? There’s grain in the barn.’
‘Your mum fed them hours ago—’ her father began, but Tiffany dragged him away quickly.
‘When did this happen?’ she asked, watching Amber walking obediently into the barn.
‘Some time last night. Mrs Petty told me. He was beaten badly. In that rackety old barn. Right where we were sitting last night.’
‘Mrs Petty went back? After everything that happened? What does she see in him?’
Mr Aching gave a shrug. ‘He is her husband.’
‘But everyone knows he beats her up!’
Her father looked a bit embarrassed. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘I suppose to some women any husband is better than none.’
Tiffany opened her mouth to reply, looked into her father’s eyes and saw the truth of what he had said. She had seen some of them up in the mountains, worn out by too many children and not enough money. Of course, if they knew Nanny Ogg, something could be done about the children at least, but you still found the families who sometimes, in order to put food on the table, had to sell the chairs. And there was never anything you could do about it.
‘Mr Petty wasn’t beaten up, Dad, although it wouldn’t be such a bad idea if he was. I found him trying to hang himself, and I cut him down.’
‘He’s got two broken ribs, and bruises all over him.’
‘It was a long way down, Dad – he was choking to death! What should I have done? Let him swing? He has lived to see another day, whether he deserves to or not! It’s not my job to be an executioner! There was a bouquet, Dad! Weeds and nettles!