Earwig and the Witch

Earwig and the Witch

Chapter 1

At St. Morwalds’s Home for Children it was the day when people who wanted to be foster parents came to see which children they might want to take home with them. “How boring!” Earwig said to her friend Custard. The two of them were lined up in the dining room with the bigger children. Earwig thought this whole afternoon was an utter waste of time. She was perfectly happy at St. Morwald’s. She like the clean smell of polish everywhere and the bright, sunny rooms. She like the people there. This was because everyone, from Mrs. Briggs the Matron to the newest and smallest children, did exactly what Earwig wanted. If Earwig fancied shepherd’s pie for lunch, she could get the cook to make it for her. If she wanted a new red sweater, Mrs. Briggs hurried out and bought it for her. If she wanted to play hide-and-seek in the dark all the children played, even though some of them were frightened. Earwig was never frightened. She had a very strong personality. There were noises from the playroom next door, where the babies and toddlers were lined up, too. Earwig could hear people crying out, “oh, isn’t she sweet!” and “Oh, just look at this little one’s eyes!”/ “Disgusting!” Earwig muttered. “What cheek!” Earwig liked most of the babies and all the toddlers, but she did not think they were made to be admired. They were people, not dolls. “It’s alright for you,” her friend Custard said. “Nobody ever choose you.” Earwig liked Custard best out of everyone at St. Morwald’s. He always did exactly what she said. His only fault was that he got scared rather too often. She said soothingly, “ You never get chosen either. Don’t worry.” “But people hover me,” Custard said. “Sometimes they almost choose me.” Then he added, very daringly, “Don’t you ever want to be chosen and go to live somewhere else, Earwig?” “No,” Earwig said firmly. But she wondered about it. Might it just be fun to go and live in an ordinary house the way other children did? Then she thought of all the numbers of people in St. Morwald’s who all did exactly what she wanted, and she realized that in an ordinary house, there would only be two or three people, or six at the most. That was far too few to be interesting. “No,” she said.
Text copyright © 2012 by Diana Wynne Jones)