The Witch's Daughter Read Online Free Page B

there’s no bus to fetch her. And unless they fetch her, they can’t insist. Not legally. So they turn a blind eye.’
    Frog Face whistled through his teeth. ‘I think that’s terrible,’ he said, very slowly and seriously. ‘I don’t know what the wife would say, I really don’t. A child should go to school.’
    Perdita looked at him. ‘I want to go to school,’ she said, ‘and learn to read and write, and then, when I’m older, I want to go to the big school on Trull.’ Frog Face was staring at her, and she thought perhaps he didn’t know where Trull was, as he was astranger. ‘Trull’s the big island,’ she said, ‘with an air port and a cinema and this fine, big school.’ She stopped, her heart banging against her ribs. She had never said this to anyone before. It was strange—if she had had time to think, she would have thought it strange—that she should have said it to Frog Face whom she barely knew, and didn’t, really, like very much.
    Mr Smith was watching her. He said, to Frog Face, ‘In the circumstances, it’s convenient she doesn’t go, don’t you think?’ And then he gave her hair a little tug, to tease her, and added, ‘It wouldn’t do, not for a witch’s daughter. If you mixed with other children, you’d lose your Powers. You’d grow ordinary, like them.’
    Perdita said, ‘I wouldn’t mind being ordinary, if I could learn to read and write.’
    Mr Jones was making a face as if he was sorry for her. Perdita thought he was the sort of person who could easily be terribly angry with you one minute, and very sorry for you the next. He said, pulling this long face, ‘Poor kiddie. It’s a shame, it really is …’ His eyes were bright and shining, almost as if he were going to cry. ‘Well, we’ll have to think of something to make up for it, won’t we?’ he said, and suddenly his sad look was gone and he was grinning all over his face. ‘Shut your eyes,’ he said.
    Perdita shut her eyes. There was a little click. She heard Mr Smith say, very softly, ‘ Don ’t , you fool …’ and Frog Face laughed, and said, ‘Why not, after all? There’s plenty more where that came from …’ Then there was a rattling sound as if small stones—or sweets—were being tipped onto the table.
    Behind her closed eyelids, Perdita tried to see what was going on. Often—not always, but often—if she kept quiet and concentrated hard, she could see what people were doing, even if her eyes were closed or she was on the other side of a wall, but tonight there had been so much talk to distract her, and she was very tired … Although she tried as hard as she could, she couldonly guess. And, because Frog Face had been eating toffees, she guessed there were toffees in the tin, and that he was going to give her one.
    The two men were muttering to each other, but so low that she couldn’t hear what they were saying, until Mr Smith laughed. It was a high, queerly excited laugh. ‘Hold out your hand, Perdita,’ he said.
    Obediently, she did so. Something hard and cold was placed in her open palm.
    â€˜Open your eyes, now.’ She opened her eyes. She was holding a small stone—only it was prettier than any stone she had ever seen on the beaches of Skua. It was transparent, like glass: when she turned it over, it caught the reflection from the fire and looked, for a minute, like a piece of fire itself.
    She looked up at the two men.
    â€˜Do you like it?’ Frog Face asked. ‘Do you like your present?’
    â€˜It’s very pretty, thank you,’ Perdita said, though in fact she was rather disappointed: she would have preferred a toffee. And then, because Frog Face looked as if he were expecting her to say something more, she added, ‘It’s a very pretty piece of