Wintersmith - Terry Pratchett [71]
“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. And a meeting of witches, who were supposed to be clever, had handed her this steading that would be a hard job for anyone.
It didn’t make sense.
No, it didn’t make sense.
“It only happens when there’s a difficult lambing,” said Tiffany, while her mind raced. “And that means it’s out in the dark and the cold and the rain. Artists never seem to be around then. It’s amazing.”
“Why are you looking at me like that?” said Annagramma. “Like I’m not here!”
Tiffany blinked. All right, she thought, how am I supposed to deal with this?
“Look, I’ll come and help you with the laying out,” she said, as calmly as she could manage. “And I expect I can help with Mrs. Owslick. Or ask Petulia. She’s good. But you’ll have to do the watching by yourself.”
“Sitting up all night with a dead person?” said Annagramma, and shivered.
“You can take a book to read,” said Tiffany.
“I suppose I could draw a circle of protection around the chair…” Annagramma muttered.
“No,” said Tiffany. “No magic. Mrs. Earwig must have told you this?”
“But a circle of protection—”
“It draws attention. Something might turn up to see why it’s there. Don’t worry, it’s just to make the old people happy.”