The Sisterhood

"Tell me Adam," asked Alice. "Do you believe in witches?"

He clearly didn't know what to say. He looked towards the condensation-misted windows for inspiration. But he finally managed the not-entirely-helpful question "witches?"

"Heh heh!" chuckled Margaret. "You got him there, Alice!"

Alice smiled. "No, I don't mean the kind with warty faces and pointy hats, riding round on broomsticks with black cats. I mean the kind of old woman who, a couple of hundred years ago, might find herself burned at the stake or drowned by her neighbours.

"I'm talking about someone who might know a thing or two about life - aye, and death - and might give a helping hand to those who needed it. Delivering babies, laying out corpses, sorting out problems, that kind of thing."

"So er, that's what you do, is it?" asked Adam cautiously. The conversation was, he felt, taking a very strange turn.

"Well of course, there's not much call for the midwifery or the burial in this day and age - though we could turn our hand to both, if need be - but we're definitely in the business of giving life a helping hand. Or, more often than not, a bit of a shove." Here she looked at Margaret, who chuckled again. Actually, it was more of a cackle.

"What Alice is saying," added Margaret, "is that we get to grips with people's problems and we help them out. And we make sure we know who might be having problems in the first place."

"Let me see if I understand," said Adam. "What you're saying is that you're a bunch of busybodies?"

Alice looked mightily offended. But Margaret just laughed louder. "Well, you've definitely got your granny's cheek, I'll say that for you!"

Adam thought for a moment. "Hang on. Is gran part of all this?"

The two women looked at each other. Finally, Margaret spoke.

"Part of it? Son, she's the boss."



Story starts here.