Hogfather

     ...flung itself open with a clatter.

     But there was no wind.

     At least, no wind in this world.

     Images formed in her mind. A red  ball  ... The sharp  smell of snow... And then they were gone, and instead there were...

     'Teeth?' said Susan, aloud. 'Teeth, again?'

     She blinked. When she opened her eyes  the  window was,  as she knew it would be,  firmly  shut. The  curtain  hung  demurely. The candle flame  was innocently upright. Oh, no, not again. Not after all this  time.  Everything had been going so well

     'Thusan?'

     She  looked around. Her door had been pushed open and  a  small  figure stood there, barefoot in a nightdress.

     She sighed. 'Yes, Twyla?'

     'I'm afwaid of the monster in the cellar, Thusan. It's going  to eat me up.'

     Susan shut her book firmly and raised a warning finger.

     'What  have I  told  you  about trying  to  sound  ingratiatingly cute, Twyla?' she said.

     The little girl said, 'You said I  mustn't. You  said  that exaggerated lisping is a hanging offence and I only do it to get attention.'

     'Good. Do you know what monster it is this time?'

     'It's the big hairy one wif-'

     Susan raised the finger. 'Uh?' she warned.

     '-with eight arms,' Twyla corrected herself.

     'What, again? Oh, all right.'

     She got out of bed and put  on her dressing gown, trying to stay  quite calm  while  the child watched her.  So they  were coming back.  Oh, not the monster in the cellar. That was all in a day's work. But it looked as if she was going to start remembering the future again.

     She  shook  her  head.  However  far you  ran away,  you  always caught yourself up.

     But  monsters  were easy,  at least.  She'd  learned  how to  deal with monsters. She  picked up the poker from the nursery fender and went down the back stairs, with Twyla following her.

     The  Gaiters were having  a dinner party.  Muffled voices came from the direction of the dining room.

     Then, as she crept past, a door opened and yellow light spilled out and a  voice  said,  'Ye gawds,  there's a gel in  a nightshirt out here with  a poker!'

     She saw figures silhouetted in the light and made out the  worried face of Mrs Gaiter.

     'Susan? Er ... what are you doing?'

     Susan looked at the poker and then back at the woman. 'Twyla said she's afraid of a monster in the cellar, Mrs Gaiter.'

     'And yer  going to attack it with a poker, eh?' said one of the guests. There was a strong atmosphere of brandy and cigars.

     'Yes,' said Susan simply.

     'Susan's  our  governess,' said  Mrs  Gaiter. 'Er ... I told  you about her.'

     There was  a change in the expression on the faces peering out from the dining room. It became a sort of amused respect.

     'She beats up monsters with a poker?' said someone.

     'Actually, that's  a very clever idea,'  said someone else. 'Little gel gets  it into her head there's a monster  in the cellar, you go in  with the poker  and  make  a  few bashing  noises while the child  listens, and  then everything's  all  right.  Good  thinkin',  that girl. Ver'  sensible.  Ver' modern.'

     'Is that what you're doing Susan?' said Mrs Gaiter anxiously.

     'Yes, Mrs Gaiter,' said Susan obediently.

     'This  I've got  to watch, by Io!  It's  not every day you see monsters beaten up by a gel,'  said the man behind her. There was a swish of silk and a cloud of cigar smoke as the diners poured out into the hall.

     Susan sighed  again  and went down  the  cellar stairs, while Twyla sat demurely at the top, hugging her knees.

     A door opened and shut.

     There was a short period of  silence and  then a terrifying scream. One woman fainted and a man dropped his cigar.

     'You  don't  have  to worry,  everything will be all right,' said Twyla calmly. 'She always wins. Everything will be all right.'

     There were thuds and clangs, and then a  whirring noise, and  finally a sort of bubbling.

     Susan pushed open the door. The poker was bent at  right  angles. There was nervous applause.

     'Ver' well  done,'  said a  guest.  'Ver' persykological.  Clever idea, that, bendin' the poker. And I expect you're not afraid any more, eh, little girl?'

     'No,' said Twyla

     'Ver' persykological.'

     'Susan says don't get afraid, get angry,' said Twyla.

     'Er, thank  you,  Susan,'  said Mrs  Gaiter, now a trembling bouquet of nerves. 'And, er, now, Sir Geoffrey, if you'd all like to come back into the parlour - I mean, the drawing room-'

     The party went  back up the hall. The last thing Susan heard before the door shut was 'Dashed convincin', the way she bent the poker like that-'

     She waited.

     'Have they all gone, Twyla?'

     'Yes, Susan.'

     'Good.' Susan  went back  into the cellar and emerged towing  something large and  hairy  with eight legs.  She managed to haul  it up the steps and down the other passage to  the  back yard, where she kicked it out. It would evaporate before dawn.

     'That's what we do to monsters,' she said.

     Twyla watched carefully.

     'And now it's bed for you, my girl,' said Susan, picking her up.

     'C'n I have the poker in my room for the night?'

     'All right.'

     'It only  kills monsters, doesn't it...?' the child  said  sleepily, as Susan carried her upstairs.