on this cursed stage?”
“Shame!”
“Heartless!
“Unthinkable!”
“Should be at least four!”
“Right! Right!”
“For shame, my friends! To talk about a few dollars when there is a dead man lying there… Have you no respect for his memory?”
“Exactly! A few dollars is disrespectful. Five dollars or nothing!”
Nanny Ogg nodded to herself, and wandered off and found a sufficiently big piece of cloth to cover the late Dr Undershaft.
Nanny rather liked the theatrical world. It was its own kind of magic. That was why Esme disliked it, she reckoned. It was the magic of illusions and misdirection and foolery, and that was fine by Nanny Ogg, because you couldn't be married three times without a little fooling. But it was just close enough to Granny's own kind of magic to make Granny uneasy. Which meant she couldn't leave it alone. It was like scratching an itch.
People didn't take any notice of little old ladies who looked as though they fitted in, and Nanny Ogg could fit in faster than a dead chicken in a maggot factory.
Besides, Nanny had one additional little talent, which was a mind like a buzzsaw behind a face like an elderly apple.
Someone was crying.
A strange figure was kneeling beside the late chorus master. It looked like a puppet with the strings cut.
“Can you give me a hand with this sheet, mister?” said Nanny quietly.
The face looked up. Two watery eyes, running with tears, blinked at Nanny. “He won't wake up!”
Nanny mentally changed gear. “That's right, luv,” she said. “You're Walter, ain't you?”
“He was always very good to me and our mum! He never gave me a kick!”
It was obvious to Nanny that there was no help here. She knelt down and began to do her best with the departed.
“Miss they say it were the Ghost miss! It weren't the Ghost miss! He'd never do a thing like that! He was always good to me and our mum!”
Nanny changed gear again. You had to slow down a bit for Walter Plinge.
“My mum'd know what to do!”
“Yes, well… she's gone home early, Walter.”
Walter's waxy face started to contort into an expression of terminal horror.
“She mustn't walk home without Walter to look after her!” he shouted.
“I bet she always says that,” said Nanny. “I bet she always makes sure her Walter's with her when she goes home. But I expect that right now she'd want her Walter to just get on with things so's she can be proud of him. Show's not half over yet.”
“ 'S dangerous for our mum!”
Nanny patted his hand and absent?mindedly wiped her own hand on her dress.
“That's a good boy,” she said. “Now, I've got to go off—”
“The Ghost wouldn't harm no one!”
“Yes, Walter, only I've got to go but I'll find someone to help you and you must put poor Dr Undershaft somewhere safe until after the show. Understand? And I'm Mrs Ogg.”
Walter gawped at her, and then nodded sharply.
“Good boy.”
Nanny left him still looking at the body and headed further backstage.
A young man hurrying past found that he'd suddenly acquired an Ogg.
“ 'Scuse me, young man,” said Nanny, still holding his arm, “but d'you know anyone around here called Agnes? Agnes Nitt?”
“Can't say I do, ma'am. What does she do?” He made to hurry on as politely as possible, but Nanny's grip was steel.
“She sings a bit. Big girl. Voice with double joints in it. Wears black.”
“You don't mean Perdita?”
“Perdita? Oh, yes. That'd be her all right.”
“I think she's seeing to Christine. They're in Mr Salzella's office.”
“Would Christine be the thin girl in white?”
“Yes, ma'am.”
“And I expect you're going to show me where this Mr Salzella's office is?”
“Er, am I? Er, yes. It's just along the stage there, first door on the right.”
“What a good boy to help an old lady,” said Nanny. Her grip increased to a few ounces short of cutting off circulation. “And wouldn't it be a good idea if you helped young Walter back there do something respectful for the poor dead man?”
“Back where?”
Nanny turned around. The late Dr Undershaft had gone nowhere, but Walter had vanished.
“Poor chap was a bit upset, I shouldn't wonder,” said Nanny. “Only to be expected. So… how about if you got another strapping young lad to help you out instead?”
“Er… yes.”
“What a good boy,” Nanny repeated.
It was mid?evening. Granny and Mrs Plinge pushed their way through the crowds towards the Shades, a part of the city that was as thronged as a rookery, fragrant as a cesspit, and vice versa.
“So,” said Granny, as they entered the network of foetid alleys, “your boy Walter usually sees you home, does he?”
“He's a good boy, Mistress Weatherwax,” said Mrs Plinge defensively.
“I'm sure you're grateful for a strong lad to lean on,” said Granny.
Mrs Plinge looked up. Looking into Granny's eyes was like looking into a mirror. What you saw looking back at you was yourself, and there was no hiding?place.
“They torment him so,” she mumbled. “They poke at him and hide his broom. They're not bad boys round here, but they will torment him.”
“He brings his broom home, does he?”
“He looks after his things,” said Mrs Plinge. “I've always brought him up to look after his things and not be a trouble. But they will poke the poor soul and call him such names…”
The alleyway opened into a yard, like a well between the high buildings. Washing?lines crisscrossed the rectangle of moonlit sky.
“I'm just in here,” said Mrs Plinge. “Much obliged to you.”
“How does Walter get home without you?” said Granny.
“Oh, there's plenty of places to sleep in the Opera House. He knows that if I don't come for him he's to stop there for the night. He does what he's told, Mistress Weatherwax. He's never any trouble.”
“I never said he was.”
Mrs Plinge fumbled in her purse, as much to escape Granny's stare as to look for the key.
“I expect your Walter sees most of what goes on in the Opera House,” said Granny, taking one of Mrs Plinge's wrists in her hand. “I wonder what your Walter… saw?”
The pulse jumped at the same time as the thieves did. Shadows unfolded themselves. There was the scrape of metal.
A low voice said, “There's two of you, ladies, and there's six of us. There's no use in screaming.”
“Oh, deary deary me,” said Granny.
Mrs Plinge dropped to her knees. “Oh, please don't hurt us, kind sirs, we are harmless old ladies! Haven't you
