Glenda looked from Trev to Nutt and back again. Trev's mouth hung open. She didn't blame it. What Nutt had said with quiet matter-of-factness had sounded like not an opinion but the truth, winched out of some deep well.
Then Trev broke the silence, speaking as if hypnotized, his voice hoarse.
'He gave me his old jersey when I was five. It was like a tent. I mean, it was so greasy I never got wet - ' He stopped.
After a moment Glenda pushed at his elbow. 'He's gone all stiff,' she said, 'as stiff as a piece of wood.'
'Ah, catatonic,' said Nutt. 'He is overwhelmed by his feelings. We should lay him down.'
'These old mattresses they sleep on in here are rubbish!' said Glenda, looking around for a better alternative to cold flagstones.
'I know the very thing!' said Nutt, suddenly all action and plunging off down the passage. This left Glenda still holding a rigid Trev when Juliet appeared from the direction of the kitchens. She stopped instantly when she saw them, and burst into tears.
'He's dead, isn't he?'
'Er, no - ' Glenda began.
'I talked to some of the bakery lads coming in to work and they're telling me there's been fights all over the city and someone got himself murdered!'
'Trev's just had a bit of a shock, that's all. Mister Nutt's gone to find something for him to lie down on.'
'Oh.' Juliet sounded a little disappointed, presumably because 'a bit of a shock' was not sufficiently dramatic, but she rallied just as a loud, rough and uniquely wooden noise from the other direction heralded Nutt pushing a large couch, which shuddered to a halt in front of them.
'There's a big room piled up with old furniture up the hall,' he said, patting the faded velvet. 'It's a bit musty, but I think all the mice have fallen out on the way here. Quite a find actually. I believe it is a chaise longue from the workshop of the famous Gurning Upspire. I think I can probably restore it later. Let him down gently.'
'What happened to him?' said Juliet.
'Oh, the truth can be a little bit upsetting,' said Nutt. 'But he will get over it and feel better.'
'I would very much like to know the truth myself, Mister Nutt, thank you very much,' said Glenda, folding her arms and trying to look stern while all the time a voice in her head was whispering Chaise longue! Chaise longue! When no one else is here you can have a go at languishing!
'It's a kind of medicine with words,' said Nutt, carefully. 'Sometimes people fool themselves into believing things that aren't true. Sometimes that can be quite dangerous for the person. They see the world in a wrong way. They won't let themselves see that what they believe is wrong. But often there is a part of the mind that does know, and the right words can let it out.' He gave them a worried look.
'Well, that's nice,' said Juliet.
'It sounds like hocus pocus to me,' said Glenda. 'Folk know their own minds!' She folded her arms again, and saw Nutt glance at them.
'Well?' she demanded. 'Haven't you ever seen elbows before?'
'Never such pretty dimpled ones, Miss Glenda, on such tightly folded arms.'
Up until that point Glenda had never realized that Juliet had such a dirty laugh, to which, Glenda fervently hoped, she was not entitled.
'Glenda's got a bee-oh! Glenda's got a bee-ooh!'
'It's "beau", actually,' Glenda said, swiping to the back of her mind the recollection that it had taken her years to find that out herself. 'And I was just helping. We're helping him, aren't we, Mister Nutt?'
'Doesn't he look sweet lying there?' said Juliet. 'All pink.' She stroked Trev's greasy hair inexpertly. 'Just like a little boy!'
'Yes, he's always been good at that,' said Glenda. 'Why don't you go and get the little boy a cup of tea? And a biscuit. Not one of the chocolate ones. That'll take some time,' she said as the girl shimmied away. 'She tends to get distracted. Her mind wanders and amuses itself elsewhere.'
'Trev tells me that despite your more mature appearance you are the same age as her,' said Nutt.
'You really don't talk to many ladies, do you, Mister Nutt?'
'Oh dear, have I made another faux pas?' said Nutt, suddenly all nerves again, to such an extent that she took pity on him.
'Would this be "faux pas" that looks as if it should be said like "forks pass"?'