Maskerade

Someone poked their head out of the stricken trapdoor. The light glinted off Greebo's mask... and it had to be said, even by Granny, that he made a good Ghost. For one thing, his morphogenic field was trying to reassert itself. His claws could no longer even remotely be thought of as fingernails.

He spat at the pursuit as they poured up the steps, arched his back dramatically on the very edge of the roof, and stepped off.

One storey down he thrust out an arm, caught a windowsill, and landed on the head of a gargoyle, which said 'Oh, fank oo ver' mush' in a reproachful voice.

The pursuers looked down at him. Some of them had managed to get hold of flaming torches, because sometimes convention is too strong to be lightly denied.

Greebo snarled defiance and dropped again, springing from sill to drainpipe to balcony and pausing every now and again for another dramatic pose and another snarl at the pursuers.

'We'd better get after him, Corporal de Nobbs,' said one of them, who was staggering along behind.

'We'd better get after him by carefully going back down the stairs, you mean. 'Cos somethin' I drank don't want to stay drunk. Much more runnin' and I'll be droppin' a custard, I'm tellin' you.'

The other members of the posse also seemed to be reaching the conclusion that there was no extended future in chasing a man down the sheer wall of a building. As one mob they turned and, shouting and waving their torches in the air, headed back to the stairs.

The parting crowd revealed Nanny Ogg, holding a pitchfork in one hand and a torch in the other and thrusting them both in the air while muttering, 'Rhubarb, rhubarb.'

Granny walked over and tapped her on the shoulder. 'They've gone, Gytha.'

'Rhuba‑ Oh, hello, Esme,' said Nanny, lowering the implements of righteous retribution. 'I was just tagging along to see it didn't get out of hand. Was that Greebo I saw just then?'

'Yes.'

'Awww, bless him,' said Nanny. 'He looked a bit bothered, though. I hope he doesn't happen to anybody.'

'Where's your broomstick?' said Granny.

'It's in the cleaners' cupboard backstage.'

'Then I'll borrow it and keep an eye on things,' said Granny.

'Hey, he's my cat, I ought to be looking after him–' Nanny began.

Granny stepped aside, revealing a huddled shape sitting hugging its knees. 'You look after Walter Plinge,' she said. 'It's something you'd be better at than me.'

'Hello Mrs Ogg!' said Walter, mournfully.

Nanny looked at him for a moment.

'So he is the‑?'

'Yes.'

'You mean he really did do the mur‑?'

'What do you think?' said Granny.

'Well, if it comes to it, I think he didn't,' said Nanny. 'Can I have a word in your ear, Esme? I don't reckon I should say this in front of young Walter.'

The witches bent their heads together. There was a brief whispered conversation.

'Everything is simple when you know the answer,' said Granny. 'I'll be back soon.'

She hurried off. Nanny heard her shoes clattering on the stairs.

Nanny looked down at Walter again, and held out her hand. 'Up you get, Walter.'

'Yes Mrs Ogg!'

'I expect we'd better find somewhere for you to lie low, eh?'

'I know a hidden place Mrs Ogg!'

'You do, do you?'

Walter lurched across the roof towards another trapdoor, and pointed to it proudly.

'That?' said Nanny. 'That doesn't look very hidden to‑me, Walter.'

Walter gave it a puzzled look, and then grinned in the way a scientist might after he'd solved a particularly difficult equation. 'It's hidden where everyone can see it Mrs Ogg!'

Nanny gave him a sharp look, but there was nothing but a slightly glazed innocence in Walter's eyes.

He lifted up the trapdoor and pointed politely downwards. 'You go down the ladder first so I will not see your drawers!'

'Very... kind of you,' said Nanny. It was the first time anyone had ever said anything like that to her.

The man waited patiently until she had reached the bottom of the ladder, and then climbed laboriously down after her.

'This is just an old staircase, isn't it?' said Nanny, prodding at the darkness with her torch.

'Yes! It goes all the way down! Except at the bottom where it goes all the way up!'

'Anyone else know about it?'

'The Ghost Mrs Ogg!' said Walter, climbing down.

'Oh, yes,' said Nanny slowly. 'And where's the Ghost now, Walter?'

'He ran away!'

She held up the torch. There was still nothing to be read in Walter's expression. 'What does the Ghost do here, Walter?'

'He watches over the Opera!'

'That's very kind of him, I'm sure.'

Nanny started downwards, and as the shadows danced around her she heard Walter say: 'You know she asked me a very silly question Mrs Ogg! It was a silly question any fool knows the answer!'

'Oh, yes,' said Nanny, peering at the walls. 'About houses on fire, I expect...'

'Yes! What would I take out of our house if it was on fire!'

'I expect you were a good boy and said you'd take your mum,' said Nanny.

'No! My mum would take herself!'