Unseen Academicals

‘I am not gonna listen to you,’ said Trev. ‘And you are pretty hard to understand in any case.’

‘Ith he thubject to thtrange moodth?’ Igor ploughed on. ‘Doth he get into a rage? Do you know anything about hith eating habitth?’

‘Yes, he likes apple pies,’ said Trev. ‘What’re you on about?’

‘I can thee you are great friendth,’ said Igor. ‘I am thorry that I have trethpathed on your time.’ ‘Trethpathed’ hanging in the air considerably added to the water drops hanging in the fog. ‘I will give you thome advith. When you need me, jutht thcream. I regret that you will find it very eathy to thcream.’ The figure turned and instantly vanished into the mist.

And Igors moved about oddly, Trev remembered. And you never saw one at a football game…

He noticed that last thought go past. What had he tried to tell himself? That someone who did not watch football was not a real person? He couldn’t think of a proper answer. He was amazed that he had even asked the question. Things were changing.

Glenda arrived in the Night Kitchen with Juliet sworn to silence, and beneficently gave Mildred and Mrs Hedges the rest of the night off. That suited them both very well, as it always does, and a little favour had been done there that she could call upon when necessary.

She took her coat off and rolled up her sleeves. She felt at home in the Night Kitchen, in charge, in control. Behind black iron ranges she could defy the world.

‘All right,’ she said to the subdued Juliet. ‘We weren’t there today. Today did not happen. You were here helping me clean the ovens. I’ll see you get some overtime so your dad won’t suspect. Okay? Have you got that?’

‘Yes, Glenda.’

‘And while we’re here we’ll make a start on the pies for tomorrow night. It’ll be nice to get ahead of ourselves, right?’

Juliet said nothing.

‘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… ’