Unseen Academicals (Discworld 37)

'Say "Yes, Glenda",' Glenda prompted.

'Yes, Glenda.'

'Go and chop some pork, then. Being busy takes your mind off things, that's what I always say.'

'Yes, Glenda, that's what you always say,' said Juliet.

An inflection caught Glenda's ear, and worried her a little. 'Do I always say that? When?'

'Every day when you come in and put your apron on, Glenda.'

'Mother used to say that,' said Glenda, and tried to shake the thought out of her head. 'And she was right, of course! Hard work never hurt anybody!' And she tried to unthink the treacherous thought: except her. Pies, she thought. You can rely on pies. Pies don't give you grief.

'I fink that Trev likes me,' Juliet muttered. 'He don't give me funny looks like the other boys. He looks like a little puppy.'

'You want to watch out for that look, my girl.'

'I fink I luvim, Glendy.'

Wild boar, thought Glenda, and apricots. There's some left in the cool room. And we've got mutton pies with a choice of tracklements... always popular. So... pork pies, I think, and there's some decent oysters in the pump room, so they'll do for the wet pie. I'll do Sea Pie and the anchovies look good, so there's always room for a Stargazey or two, even though I feel sorry for the little fishes, but right now I'll bake some blind pastries so that - 'What did you say?'

'I luvim.'

'You can't!'

'He saved my life!'

'That's no basis for a relationship! A polite thank you would have sufficed!'

'I've got a feelin' about him!'

'That's just silly!'

'Well? Silly's not bad, is it?'

'Now you listen to me, young - Oh, hello, Mister Ottomy.'

It is in the way of the Ottomies all around the worlds to look as if they have been built out of the worst parts of two men and to be annoyingly hushen-footed on thick red rubber soles, all the better to peep and pry. And they always assume that a free cup of tea is theirs by right.

'What a day, miss, what a day! Were you at the match?' he enquired, glancing from Glenda to Juliet.

'Been cleaning the ovens,' said Glenda briskly.

'Yes, today didn't happen,' Juliet added, and giggled. Glenda hated giggling.

Ottomy looked around slowly and without embarrassment, noting the absence of dirt, discarded gloves, cloths -

'And we've only just finished getting everything all neat and tidy,' Glenda snarled. 'Would you like a cup of tea, Mister Ottomy? And then you can tell us all about the game.'

It has been said that crowds are stupid, but mostly they are simply confused, since as an eyewitness the average person is as reliable as a meringue lifejacket. It became obvious, as Ottomy went on, that nobody had any clear idea about anything other than that some bloke threw a goal from halfway down the street, and even then only maybe.

'But, funny thing,' Ottomy went on, as Glenda metaphorically let out a breath, 'while we was in the Shove, I could've sworn I saw your lovely assistant here chatting to a lad in the Dimmer strip... '

'No law against that!' Glenda said. 'Anyway, she was here, cleaning the ovens.' It was clumsy, but she hated people like him, who lived for the exercise of third-hand authority and loved every little bit of power they could grab. He'd seen more than he'd told her, that was certain, and wanted her to wriggle. And out of the corner of her mind, she could feel him looking at their coats. Their wet coats.

'I thought you didn't go to the football, Mister Ottomy?'

'Ah, well, there you have it. The pointies wanted to go and watch a game, and me and Mister Nobbs had to go with them in case they got breathed on by ordinary people. Blimey, you wouldn't believe it! Tutting and complaining and taking notes, like they owned the street. They're up to something, you mark my words.'