‘I have not met many girls,’ he volunteered.

‘There’s Glenda. She’s taken a real shine to you. Watch out, though, she’ll runyour life for you if you let her. It’s what she does. She does it to everyone.’

‘You two have a history, I think,’ said Nutt.

‘You are a sharp one, aren’t you? Quiet and sharp. Like a knife. Yeah, Isuppose it was a history. I wanted it to be more of a geography, but she keptslappin’ my hand.’ Trev paused to search for any flicker in Nutt’s face. ‘Thatwas a joke,’ he added, without much hope.

‘Thank you for telling me, Mister Trev. I will decipher it later.’

Trev sighed. ‘But I ain’t like that any more, and Juliet… well, I’d crawl amile over broken glass just to hold ’er ’and, no funny business.’

‘Writing a poem is often the way to the intended’s heart,’ said Nutt.

Trev brightened. ‘Ah, I’m good with words. If I wrote ’er a letter, you couldgive it to ’er, right? If I write it on posh paper, something like, let’s see…“I think you are really fit. How about a date? No hanky panky, promise. Luv,Trev.” How does that sound?’

‘The soul of it is pure and noble, Mister Trev. But, ah, if I could assist insome way… ?’

‘It needs longer words, right? And more sort of curly language?’ said Trev.

But Nutt was not paying attention.

‘Sounds lovely to me,’ said a voice above Trev’s head. ‘Who do you know whatcan read, smart boy?’

There was this to be said about the Stollop brothers: they weren’t Andy. Itwas, in the great scheme of things, not a huge difference when you couldn’t seefor blood but, in short, Stollops knew that force had always worked, and so hadnever bothered to try anything else, whereas Andy was a stone-cold psychopathwho had a following only because it was safer than being in front of him. Hecould be quite charming when the frantically oscillating mood swing took him;that was the best time to run. As for the Stollops, it would not take long fora researcher to realize that Juliet was the brains of the family outfit. Oneadvantage from Trev’s viewpoint was that they thought they were clever, becauseno one had ever told them otherwise.

‘Ha, Mister so-called Trev,’ said Billy Stollop, prodding Trev with a fingerlike a hippopotamus sausage. ‘You full o’ smarts, you tell us who broke thegoal, right?’

‘I was in the Shove, Billy. Didn’t see a thing.’

‘He gonna play for the Dimmers?’ Billy persisted.

‘Billy, not even your dad at his best could throw the ball half as far aseveryone is saying. You know it, right? You couldn’t do it. I’m hearing thatthe Angels’ post just fell apart and someone made up a story. Would I lie toyou, Billy?’ Trev could make up lies that were very nearly truths.

‘Yeah, ’cos you’re a Dimmer.’

‘All right, you got me, I’ll come clean,’ said Trev, holding out his hands.‘Respect and all that, Billy… It was Nutt here that threw that ball. That’s mylast offer.’

‘I ought to smack your ’ead off for that,’ said Billy, sneering at Nutt. ‘Thatkid don’t look like he could even lift the ball.’

And then a voice behind Trev said, ‘Why, Billy, have they let you out withoutyour collar on?’

Nutt heard Trev mutter, ‘Oh gods, and I was doing so well,’ under his breath,and then his friend turned and said, ‘It’s a free street, Andy. No ’arm inpassin’ the time, eh?’

‘The Dollies killed your ol’ man, Trev. Ain’t you got no shame?’

The rest of the Massive Posse was standing behind Andy, their expressions a mixof defiance and the realization that, once again, they were going to be draggedinto something. They were out in the main streets now. The Watch was notinclined to get involved in alley scuffles, but out in the open they had to dosomething in case the taxpayers complained, and since tired coppers didn’t likehaving to do something, they did it good and hard, so with any luck theywouldn’t have to do it again any time soon.

‘What do you know about all this they’re saying about a Dimmer man and a Dollytart holding hands in the Shove?’ Andy demanded. He put a heavy hand on Trev’sshoulder. ‘Come on, you’re smart, you always know everything before anyoneelse.’

‘Tart?’ That was Billy; it was a long way from his ears to his brain. ‘There’snot a girl in Dolly Sisters who’d look at you poxy lot!’

‘Ah, so that’s where we got it from!’ said Carter the Farter. This struck Nuttas inflammatory in the circumstances. Perhaps, he thought, the ritual is thatchildish insults shall be exchanged until both sides feel fully justified inattacking, just as Dr Vonmausberger noted in Ritual Aggression in PubescentRats.

But Andy had fished his short cutlass out of his shirt. It was a nasty littleweapon, alien to the true spirit of foot-the-ball, which generally smiledindulgently on things that bruised, scared, fractured and, okay, worst case,heat of the moment and so on, blinded[11]. But then came Andy, who had issues. And once you had someone likeAndy around you, you got other Andys around too, and every kid who mightotherwise have gone to a match with a pair of brass knuckles for bravadonoticeably clanked when he walked, and needed to be helped up if he fell over.

Now, weapons were being loosened here, too.

‘Careful now, everyone,’ Trev cautioned, stepping back and waving his emptyhands in a conciliatory way. ‘This is a busy street, okay? If the Old Sam catchyou fightin’, they’ll be down on you with big, big truncheons and they’ll beatyou until you ’onk your breakfast, ’cos for why? ’cos they hate you, ’cosyou’re making paperwork for ’em and keepin’ ’em out of the doughnut shop.’

He stepped back a little further. ‘And then on account of you damagin’ theirweapons with your ’eads they’ll run you down to the Tanty for a nice night inthe Tank. Been there? Was it so much fun you want to go back again?’

He noted with satisfaction the looks of dismayed recollection on the faces ofall except Nutt, who couldn’t have any idea, and Andy, who was brother to theTank. But even Andy was not inclined to go up against the Sam. Kill just one ofthem, and Vetinari would give you one chance to see if you could stand on air.

They relaxed a little, but not too much. All it took in these sphincter-tautcircumstances was one idiot…

As it happened, one very clever person was able to do the job, when Nutt turnedto Algernon, the youngest Stollop, and said cheerfully, ‘Do you know, sir, thatyour situation here is very similar to that described by Vonmausberger in histreatise on his experiment with rats?’

At this point, Algernon, after one second of what passed for Algernon asthought, whacked him hard with his club. Algernon was a big boy.

Trev managed to grab his friend before he hit the cobbles. The club had hitNutt square in the chest and torn the ancient sweater open. Blood was soakingthrough the stitches.

‘What did you ’ave to go and ’it him for, you bloody fool?’ Trev said toAlgernon, agreed even by his brothers to be as thick as elephant soup. ‘Hewasn’t doin’ a thing. What was that all about, eh?’ He sprang to his feet andbefore Algernon could move Trev had ripped his own shirt off and wasministering to Nutt, trying to staunch the wound. He came back up again afterhalf a minute and flung the sodden shirt at Algernon. ‘There’s no heartbeat,you moron! What did he ever do to you?’

Even Andy was frozen. No one had ever seen Trev like it, not old Trev. Even theDollies knew Trev was smart. Trev was slick. Trev wasn’t the sort to commitsuicide by yelling at a bunch of men who were already tensed for a fight.

The luckless Algernon, with Trev’s rage baking his face, managed, ‘But, like…he’s a Dimmer… ’

‘Who are yer? You’re a bloody fool, that’s what you are!’ screamed Trev.

He rounded on the others, finger shaking. ‘Who are yer? Who are yer? Nuffin!You’re rubbish! You’re all shite!’