Witches Abroad (Discworld 12)

'Oh,' said the grandmother. 'I might have known.'

Magrat liked to think she was good with children, and worried that she wasn't. She didn't like them very much, and worried about this too. Nanny Ogg seemed to be effortlessly good with children by alternately and randomly giving them either a sweet or a thick ear, while Granny Weatherwax ignored them for most of the time and that seemed to work just as well. Whereas Magrat cared. It didn't seem fair.

'Bet you a million trillion zillion dollars you can't turn that bush into a pumpkin,' said the child.

'But, look, all the others got turned into pumpkins,' Magrat pointed out.

'It's bound not to work sooner or later,' said the child placidly.

Magrat looked helplessly at the wand. She'd tried everything- wishing, sub-vocalizing and even, when she'd thought the other witches were out of earshot, banging it against things and shouting, 'Anything but pumpkins!'

'You don't know how to do it really, do you,' stated the child.

'Tell me,' said Magrat, 'you said your mummy knows about the big bad wolf in the woods, didn't you?'

'That's right.'

'But nevertheless she sent you out by yourself to take those goodies to your granny?'

"That's right. Why?'

'Nothing. Just thinking. And you owe me a million trillion zillion squillion dollars.'

There's a certain freemasonry about grandmothers, with the added benefit that no-one has to stand on one leg or recite any oaths in order to join. Once inside the cottage, and with a kettle on the boil, Nanny Ogg was quite at home. Greebo stretched out in front of the meagre fire and dozed off as the witches tried to explain.

'I don't see how a wolf can get in here, dear,' said the grandmother kindly. 'I mean, they're wolves. They can't open doors.'

Granny Weatherwax twitched aside a rag of curtain and glared out at the clearing.

'We know,' she said.

Nanny Ogg nodded towards the little bed in an alcove by the fireplace.

'Is that where you always sleep?' she said.

'When I'm feeling poorly, dear. Other times I sleeps in the attic.'

'I should get along up there now, if I was you. And take my cat up with you, will you? We don't want him getting in the way.'

'Is this the bit where you clean the house and do all the washing for a saucer of milk?' said the grandmother hopefully.

'Could be. You never know.'

'Funny, dear. I was expecting you to be shorter - '

'We get out in the fresh air a lot,' said Nanny. 'Off you go now.'

That left the two of them. Granny Weatherwax looked around the cave-like room. The rushes on the floor were well on the way to composthood. Soot encrusted the cobwebs on the ceiling.

The only way housework could be done in this place was with a shovel or, for preference, a match.

'Funny, really,' said Nanny, when the old woman had climbed the rickety stairs. 'She's younger'n me. Mind you, I take exercise.'

'You never took exercise in your life,' said Granny Weatherwax, still watching the bushes. 'You never did anything you didn't want to do.'

'That's what I mean,' said Nanny happily. 'Look, Esme, I still say this could all be just - '

'It ain't! I can feel the story. Someone's been making stories happen in these parts, I know it.'