Unseen Academicals

There was another of those imploring looks. In Dolly Sisters reading and writing was soft indoor work that was best left to the women. Real work required broad backs, strong arms and calloused hands. Mr Stollop absolutely fitted the bill. He was captain of the Dollies and in one match had bitten an ear off three men. She sighed and took the letter from a hand which she noticed was slightly trembling and slit it open with her thumbnail.

‘It says here, Mister Stollop,’ she said, and the man winced. ‘Yes. That would be you,’ Glenda added.

‘Is there anything about taxes or anything?’ he said.

‘Not that I can see. He writes that “I would greatly appreciate your company at a dinner I am proposing to hold at Unseen University at eight o’clock Wednesday evening to discuss the future of the famous game foot-the-ball. I will be pleased to welcome you as the captain of the Dolly Sisters team.’’ ’

‘Why has he picked on me?’ Stollop demanded.

‘He says,’ said Glenda, ‘because you’re the captain.’

‘Yes, but why me?’

‘Maybe he’s invited all the team captains,’ Glenda volunteered. ‘You could send a lad round with a white scarf and check, couldn’t you?’

‘Yeah, but supposing it’s just me,’ said Stollop again, determined to plumb the horror to its depths.

Glenda had a bright idea. ‘Well then, Mister Stollop, it would look like the captain of the Dolly Sisters is the only one important enough to discuss the future of football with the ruler himself.’

Stollop didn’t square his shoulders because he wore them permanently squared, but with a muscular nudge he managed to achieve the effect of cubed. ‘Hah, he’s got that one right!’ he roared.

Glenda sighed inwardly. The man was strong, but his muscles were melting into fat. She knew his knees hurt. She knew he got out of breath rather quickly these days and in the presence of something he couldn’t bully, punch or kick, Mr Stollop was entirely at a loss. Down by his sides his hands flexed and unflexed themselves as they tried to do his thinking for him.

‘What’s this all about?’

‘I don’t know, Mister Stollop.’

He shifted his weight. ‘Er, would it be about that Dimmer boy that got himself hurt today, d’you think?’

Could be anyone, thought Glenda as cold dread blossomed. It’s not as though it doesn’t happen every week. It doesn’t have to be either of them. It will be, of course, I know it, but I don’t know it, can’t possibly know it, and if I repeat that long enough it might all never have happened.

Got himself hurt, thought Glenda in the roar of panic. That quite likely means he happened to be standing in the wrong place in the wrong strip, which is tantamount to a self-inflicted wound. He got himself killed.

‘My lads came in and said it was out in the street. That’s what they just heard. He got killed, that’s what they heard.’

‘They didn’t see anything?’

‘That’s right, they didn’t see a thing.’

‘But they were doing a lot of listening?’

That one went over Stollop’s head without even bothering to climb.

‘And it was a Dimmer boy?’

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘They heard he died, but you know how those Dimwell buggers lie.’

‘Where are your boys now?’

For a moment the old man’s eyes blazed. ‘They’re stoppin’ indoors or I’ll thrash ’em. You get some nasty gangs out when something like that’s been happening.’

‘One less now, then,’ said Glenda.

Stollop’s face was painted in pigments of misery and dread. ‘They’re not bad boys, you know. Not at heart. People pick on them.’

Yes, down at the Watch House, she said to herself, where people say, ‘That’s them! The big ones! I’d know them anywhere!’

She left him shaking his head and ran down the road. The troll would never expect to get a fare up here and there was no sense in hanging around and getting covered in paint. She might just about be able to catch up with it on its way down town. After a minute or two she realized that someone was following her. Chasing her in the gloom. If only she’d remembered to bring the knife. She stepped into a patch of deeper shadow and, as the knife-wielding maniac drew level, stepped out and shouted, ‘Stop following me!’

Juliet gave a little scream. ‘They’ve got Trev,’ she sobbed, as Glenda held her. ‘I know they have!’

‘Don’t be silly,’ said Glenda. ‘There’s fighting all the time after a big match. No sense in getting too worried.’

‘So why were you running?’ said Juliet sharply. And there was no answer to that.