body and see if she could stop the beating of the heart?
Nothing like that had ever occurred to her before, and it was a fact that you could not, of course, pick up anything when you were outside your body, but perhaps it would be possible to interrupt some little flow, some tiny spark? Even a big fat wretched creature like the cook could be brought down by the tiniest of upsets, and that stupid red face would shudder, and that stinking breath would gasp, and that foul mouth would shut—
First Thoughts, Second Thoughts, Third Thoughts, and the very rare Fourth Thoughts lined up in her head like planets to scream in chorus:
Tiffany slammed back into her body, nearly losing her balance, and was caught by Preston, who was standing right behind her.
Quick! Remember that Mrs Coble had lost her husband only seven months ago, she told herself, and remember that she used to give you biscuits when you were small, and remember that she had a row with her daughter-in-law and doesn’t get to see her grand- children any more. Remember this, and see a poor old lady who has drunk too much and has listened to too much gossip — from that nasty Miss Spruce, for one. Remember this, because if you hit back at her, you will become what he wants you to be! Don’t give him space in your head again!
Behind her, Preston grunted, and said, ‘I know it’s not the right thing to say to a lady, miss, but you are sweating like a pig!’
Tiffany, trying to get her shattered thoughts together, muttered, ‘My mother always said that horses sweat, men perspire, and ladies merely glow …’
‘Is that so?’ said Preston cheerfully. ‘Well, miss, you are glowing like a pig!’
This caused a lot of giggling from the girls, already shaken up by the cook’s ranting, but any laughter would be better than that and, it occurred to Tiffany, maybe Preston had worked that out.
But Mrs Coble had managed to get to her feet and waved a threatening finger at Tiffany — although she was swaying so much that for some of the time, depending on which way she was leaning, she was also threatening Preston, one of the girls and a rack of cheeses.
‘You don’t fool me, you evil-looking minx,’ she said. ‘Everyone knows you killed the old Baron! The nurse saw you! How dare you show your face in here? You’ll take us all sooner or later, and I won’t have that! I hope the ground opens up and swallows you!’ the cook snarled. She tottered backwards. There was a heavy thud, a creak and, just for a moment until it was cut off, the beginning of a scream as the cook fell into the cellar.
23 There is a lot of folklore about equestrian statues, especially the ones with riders on. There is said to be a code in the number and placement of the horse’s hooves: if one of the horse’s hooves is in the air, the rider was wounded in battle; two legs in the air means that the rider was killed in battle; three legs in the air indicates that the rider got lost on the way to the battle; and four legs in the air means that the sculptor was very, very clever. Five legs in the air means that there’s probably at least one other horse standing behind the horse you’re looking at; and the rider lying on the ground with his horse lying on top of him with all four legs in the air means that the rider was either a very incompetent horseman or owned a very bad-tempered horse.
24 See
25 In fact, chain-mail trousers are always full of holes, but they shouldn’t be full of holes seven inches wide.
Chapter 10: The Melting Girl
Chapter 10
THE MELTING GIRL
‘MISS ACHING, I must ask you to leave the Chalk,’ said the Baron, his face wooden.
‘I will not!’
The Baron’s expression did not change. Roland could be like that, she remembered, and it was worse now, of course. The Duchess had insisted on being in his office for this interview, and had further insisted on having two of her own guards there, as well as two from the castle. That pretty much filled all the space in the study, and the two pairs of guards glared at each other in all-out professional rivalry.
‘It is my land, Miss Aching.’
‘I know I have some rights!’ said Tiffany.
Roland nodded like a judge. ‘That is a very important point, Miss Aching, but regrettably you have no rights at all. You are not a leaseholder, you are not a tenant and you own no land. In short, you have nothing on which rights are based.’ He said all this without looking up from the foolscap paper in front of him.
Deftly, Tiffany reached across and snatched it from his fingers, and was back in her chair before the guards could react. ‘How dare you talk like that without looking me in the eye!’ But she knew what the words meant. Her father was a tenant of the farm. He had rights. She did not. ‘Look,’ she said, ‘you can’t just turn me out. I’ve done nothing wrong.’
Roland sighed. ‘I really hoped that you would see reason, Miss Aching, but since you assert total innocence, I must spell out the following facts. Item: you admit that you took the child Amber Petty away from her parents and lodged her with the fairy folk who live in holes in the ground. Did you think this was the right place for a young girl? According to my men, there seemed to be a lot of snails in the vicinity.’
‘Now just hold on, Roland—’
‘You will address my future son-in-law as “my lord”,’ snapped the Duchess.
‘And if I don’t, will you hit me with your stick, your grace? Will you grasp the nettle firmly?’
‘How dare you!’ the Duchess said, her eyes blazing. ‘Is this how you like your guests to be addressed, Roland?’
At least his bewilderment seemed genuine. ‘I haven’t the faintest idea what is being talked about here,’ he said.
Tiffany pointed her finger at the Duchess, causing the Duchess’s bodyguards to reach for their weapons, thus causing the castle guards to draw theirs too, so as not to be left out. By the time swords were safely disentangled and put where they belonged, the Duchess was already launching a counter-attack. ‘You should not put up with this insubordination, young man! You are the Baron, and you have given this … this creature notice to leave your lands. She is not conducive to public order, and if she still wilfully insists on not leaving, do I need to remind you that her parents are your tenants?’
Tiffany was already seething because of ‘creature’, but to her surprise the young Baron shook his head and said, ‘No, I cannot punish good tenants for having a wayward daughter.’
‘Wayward’? That was worse than ‘creature’! How dare he …! And her thoughts ran together. He wouldn’t dare. He never had dared, not in all the time they’d known each other, all the time when she had been just Tiffany and he had been just Roland. It had been a strange relationship, mostly because it wasn’t a relationship at all. They hadn’t been drawn to one another: they had been pushed towards one another by the way the world worked. She was a witch, which meant that she was automatically different from the village kids, and he was the Baron’s son, which automatically meant he was different from the village kids.
And where they had gone wrong was in believing, somewhere in their minds, that because two things were different, they must therefore be alike. Slowly finding out that this wasn’t true hadn’t been nice for either of them and there had been a certain number of things that both of them wished hadn’t been said. And then it wasn’t over, because it had never begun, not really, of course. And so it was best for both of them. Of course. Certainly. Yes.
And in all that time he’d never been like this, never so cold, never so stupid in such a meticulous kind of way that you couldn’t blame it all on the wretched Duchess, although Tiffany would have loved to. No, there were other things happening. She had to be on her guard. And there, watching them watching her, she realized how a person
