But how long had Nutt been pushing a pudding stall in front of him like a snowplough? Oh my, Trev thought, I've found a player! How can 'e do it? He looks half-starved all the time!
In the absence of any way round in the press of people, Trev scrambled between Nutt's legs, and for a moment looked down an avenue of coat hems, boots and, right in front of him, a pair of legs that were considerably more attractive than those of Nutt. He surfaced a few inches away from the milky-blue eyes of Juliet. She did not look surprised; surprise is an instant thing, and by the time Juliet could register surprise, she generally wasn't. Glenda, on the other hand, was the kind of person who instantly whacks surprise on the meat slab of indignation and hammers it into fury, and as their gazes locked and metaphorical bluebirds cleared their throats for the big number, she appeared between them and demanded: 'What the hells were you doing down there, Trevor Likely?'
The bluebirds evaporated.
'What are you doin' up front here?' said Trev. It wasn't repartee, but it was the best he could do now, with his heart pounding.
'We got shoved,' growled Glenda. 'You lot were shoving us!'
'Me? I never did!' said Trev indignantly. 'It was - ' He hesitated. Nutt? Look at him standing there all nervous and skinny, like he's never had a good meal in his life. I wouldn't believe me, and I am me. 'It was them behind,' he said lamely.
'Trolls with big boots on, were they?' said Glenda, her voice all vinegar. 'We'd be in the game if it wasn't for Mister Nutt here, holding you all back!'
The unfairness of this took Trev aback, but he decided to stay there rather than argue with Glenda. Nutt could do no wrong in her eyes, and Trev could do no right, which he couldn't contest, but rather felt should be amended to 'never did any serious wrong'.
But there was Juliet, smiling at him. When Glenda looked away to talk to Nutt she slipped something into his hand and then turned her back on him as if nothing had happened.
Trev opened his hand, heart pounding, and there was a little enamel badge in black and white, the colours of the hated enemy. It was still warm from Her hand.
He closed his hand quickly and looked around to see if anyone had spotted this betrayal of all that was good and true, i.e. the good name of Dimwell. Supposing he got knocked down by a troll and one of the lads found it on him! Supposing Andy found it on him!
But it was a gift from Her! He put it into his pocket and rammed it down to the bottom. This was going to be really difficult, and Trev was not a man who liked problems in his life.
The owner of the pudding stand, having enterprisingly sold a number of portions to passing trade during its journey, strolled up to Trev and offered him a bag of hot pease.
'Tough mate you got there,' he said. 'Some kind of troll, is he?'
'Not troll. Goblin,' said Trev, as the sounds of the strife drew nearer.
'I thought they were little buggers - ?'
'This one isn't,' said Trev, wishing the man would go away.
There was a sudden, localized silence. The kind of noise made by people who are holding their breath. He looked up and saw the ball, for the second time in the game.
There was a core of ash wood in there somewhere, then a leather skin and finally dozens of layers of cloth for grip, and it was dropping with pinpoint inevitability towards the beautiful, dreamy head of Juliet. Trev dived at her without a moment's thought, dragging her under the cart as the ball thumped on to the cobbles where She had been gracing the world with Her presence.
Many things went through Trev's mind as the ball hit the ground. She was in his arms, even if She was complaining about getting mud on her coat. He had probably saved Her life, which from a romantic point of view was money in the bank, and - oh, yes. Dimmer or Dolly, if one of the hardcore posses found out about this the next thing to go through his head would be a boot.
She giggled.
'Shush!' he managed. 'Not a good idea if you'd rather not know how you would look with that beautiful hair shaved off!'
Trev peeped out from under the stall, and attracted no attention at all.
This is because Nutt had picked up the ball and was turning it over and over in his hands with a frown on what was visible of, if you were kind, his face.
'Is this all it is?' he said to a bewildered Glenda. 'A most inappropriate ending to a pleasant social gathering with interesting canap¨¦s! Where is this wretched thing supposed to be, then?'
Glenda, hypnotized by the sight, pointed a wavering finger in the general direction of down the street.
'There's a big pole? Painted white... well, spattered with red at the bottom... '
'Oh yes, I see it. Well, in that case, I'll - Look, will you men please stop pushing?' Nutt added to the crowd, who were craning to see.
'But there's no way you'll ever get it there!' Glenda yelled. 'Just put it down and come away!'
Trev heard a grunt from Nutt and absolute silence from the rest of the world. Oh, no, he thought. Really no. It must be more than, what, a hundred and fifty yards to that goal, and those things fly like a bucket. There is no way that he could -