Unseen Academicals

Mister Trev,’ said Nutt, almost dropping a candle. ‘I don’t think, sorry, fink, I ought to.’
    ‘Come on, who’s going to know? And there’s a fat girl up there who cooks great stuff. Best food you ever tasted.’
    Nutt hesitated. Always agree, always be helpful, always be becoming, never frighten anyone.
    ‘I fink I will come with you,’ he said.

    There’s a lot to be said for scrubbing a frying pan until you can see your face in it, especially if you’ve been entertaining ideas of gently tapping someone on the head with it. Glenda was not in the mood for Trev when he came up the stone steps, kissed her on the back of the neck and said cheerfully, ‘ ’ullo, darlin’, what’s hot tonight?’
    ‘Nothing for the likes of you, Trevor Likely,’ she said, batting him away with the pan, ‘and you can keep your hands to yourself, thank you!’
    ‘Not bin keeping somethin’ warm for your best man?’
    Glenda sighed. ‘There’s bubble and squeak in the warming oven and don’t say a word if anyone catches you,’ she said.
    ‘Just the job for a man who’s bin workin’ like a slave all night!’ said Trev, patting her far too familiarly and heading for the ovens.
    ‘You’ve been at the football!’ snapped Glenda. ‘You’re always at the football! And what kind of working do you call that?’
    The boy laughed, and she glared at his companion, who backed away quickly as though from armour-piercing eyes.
    ‘And you boys ought to wash before you come up here,’ she went on, glad of a target that didn’t grin and blow kisses at her. ‘This is a food-preparation area!’
    Nutt swallowed. This was the longest conversation he’d ever had with a female apart from Ladyship and Miss Healstether and he hadn’t even said anything.
    ‘I assure you, I bath regularly,’ he protested.
    ‘But you’re grey!’
    ‘Well, some people are black and some people are white,’ said Nutt, almost in tears. Oh, why had he, why had he left the vats? It was nice and uncomplicated down there, and quiet, too, when Concrete hadn’t been on the ferrous oxide.
    ‘It doesn’t work like that. You’re not a zombie, are you? I know they do their best, and none of us can help how we die, but I’m not having all that trouble again. Anyone might get their finger in the soup, but rolling around in the bottom of the bowl? That’s not right.’
    ‘I am alive, miss,’ said Nutt helplessly.
    ‘Yes, but a live what, that’s what I’d like to know.’
    ‘I’m a goblin, miss.’ He hesitated as he said it. It sounded like a lie.
    ‘I thought goblins had horns,’ said Glenda.
    ‘Only the grown-up ones, miss.’ Well, that was true, for some goblins.
    ‘You lot don’t do anything nasty, do you?’ said Glenda, glaring at Nutt.
    But he recognized it as a kind of residual glare; she’d said her piece, and now it was just a bit of play-acting, to show she was the boss here. And bosses can afford to be generous, especially when you look a little fearful and suitably impressed. It worked.
    Glenda said, ‘Trev, fetch Mister…?’
    ‘Nutt,’ said Nutt.
    ‘Fetch Mister Nutt some bubble and squeak, will you? He looks half-starved.’
    ‘I have a very fast metabolism,’ said Nutt.
    ‘I don’t mind about that,’ said Glenda, ‘so long as you don’t go showing it to people. I have enough—’
    There was a crash from behind her.
    Trev had dropped the tray of bubble and squeak. He was stock still, staring at Juliet, who was returning the stare with a look of deep disgust. Finally, she said, in a voice like pearls, ‘ ’ad your bleedin’ eyeful? You got a nerve, largin’ it in here wiv that rag round your neck! Everyone knows Dimwell are well pants. Beasly couldn’t carry the ball in a sack.’
    ‘Oh yeah right? Well, I hear that the Lobbins walked all over you last week. Lobbin Clout! Everyone knows they’re a bunch o’ grannies!’
    ‘Oh yeah, that’s all you know! Staple Upwright was let out of the Tanty the day before! See if you Dimmers like him stamping all over you!’
    ‘Old Staple? Ha! He’ll clog away, yeah, but he can’t run above a canter! We’ll run rings around—’
    Glenda’s frying pan clanged loudly on top of the iron range. ‘Enough of that, the pair of you! I’ve got to clean up for the day, and I don’t want football dirtying up my nice surfaces, you hear me? You wait here, my girl, and you, Trevor Likely, you get back to your cellar, and I shall want that dish cleaned and back