Angua was on patrol with Nobby Nobbs. This was not an ideal arrangement, but Carrot was on swing patrol and on a night like this Fred Colon, who kept the roster, had an uncanny knack of being on desk duty in
the warm. So the spare partners had been thrown together. It was a terrible thought.
'Can I have a word, miss?' said Nobby, as they rattled doorknobs and waved their lanterns into alleyways.
'Yes, Nobby?'
'It's pers'nal.'
'Oh.'
'Only I'd ask Fred, but he wouldn't understand, and I fink you would understand on account of you being a woman. Most of the time, anyway. No offence meant.'
'What do you want, Nobby?'
'It's about my... sexual nature, miss.'
Angua said nothing. Rain banged off Nobby's illfitting helmet.
'I think it's time I looked it full in the face, miss.'
Angua cursed her graphic imagination again.
'And, er... how were you thinking of doing that, Nobby?'
'I mean, I sent off for stuff, miss, Creams an' that.'
'Creams,' said Angua flatly.
'That you rub on,' said Nobby helpfully.
'Rub on.'
'And a thing you do exercises with–'
'Oh gods...'
'Sorry, miss?'
'What? Oh... I was just thinking of something else. Do go on. Exercises?'
'Yeah. To build up my biceps and that.'
'Oh, exercises. Really?' Nobby did not appear to have any biceps to speak of. There wasn't really anything for them to be – on. Technically he had arms, because his hands were attached to his shoulders, but that was about all you could say.
Horrified interest got the better of her.
'Why, Nobby?'
He looked down, sheepishly.
'Well... I mean... you know... girls an' that...' To her amazement, Nobby was blushing.
'You mean you...' she began. 'You want to... you're looking for...'
'Oh, I'm not just after... I mean, if you want a thing done properly then... I mean, no,' said Nobby reproachfully. 'What I'm saying is, as you get older, you know, you think about settlin' down, findin' someone who'll go with you hand in hand down life's bumpy highway– Why's your mouth open?'
Angua shut it abruptly.
'But I just don't seem to meet girls,' Nobby said. 'Well, I mean, I meet girls, and then they rush off.'
'Despite the cream.'
'Right.'
'And the exercises.'
'Yes.'
'Well, you've covered all the angles, I can see that,' said Angua. 'Beats me where you're going wrong.' She sighed. 'What about Stamina Thrum, in Elm Street?'
'She's got a wooden leg.'
'Well, then... Verity Pushpram, nice girl, she runs the clam and cockle barrow in Rime Street?'
'Hammerhead? Stinks of fish all the time. And she's got a squint.'
'She's got her own business, though. Does wonderful chowder, too.'
'And a squint.'
'Not exactly a squint, Nobby.'
'Yes, but you know what I mean.'
Angua had to admit that she did. Verity had the opposite of a squint. Both eyes appeared to be endeavouring to see the adjacent ear. When you talked to her, you had to suppress a feeling that she was about to walk off in two directions. But she could gut fish like a champion.
She sighed again. She was familiar with the syndrome. They said they wanted a soulmate and helpmeet but sooner or later the list would include a skin like silk and a chest fit for a herd of cows.
Except for Carrot. That was almost... almost one of the annoying things about him. She suspected he wouldn't mind if she shaved her head or grew a beard. It wasn't that he wouldn't notice, he just wouldn't mind, and for some reason that was very aggravating.
'The only thing I can suggest,' she said, 'is that women are quite often attracted to men who can make them laugh.'
Nobby brightened. 'Really?' he said. 'I ought to be well in there, then.'
'Good.'
'People laugh at me all the time.'
High above, quite oblivious of the rain that had already soaked him to the skin, Ossie Brunt checked the oilskin cover round his bow and settled down for the long wait.
