Unseen Academicals

She looked around, but apart from the doctor and his groaning or, in Ridcully’s case, cursing charges, there was no one near her apart from Juliet who was watching the game with her normal, faint smile.

‘Good heavens. All he needs is to get only one goal,’ said Glenda aloud.

I am the goal, said the quiet voice from nowhere.

‘Did you hear that?’ said Glenda.

‘Wot?’ said Juliet. She turned and Glenda could see that she was crying. ‘Trev’s going to lose.’

I am the ball.

This time it had come from her pocket, and she pulled out Trev’s tin can.

As Doctor Lawn gave a groan and hurried back up the pitch towards the choking Charlie (as the Times later put it), she followed him and caught up with Mr Nobbs. ‘If you ever want a cup of tea and a piece of cake again in your life, Mr Nobbs, you kick the ball towards me. You will know where I am, because I will be screaming and acting silly. Do what I say, okay?’

Do what she says, okay? he heard her voice echo. ‘And what will you do, throw it back?’

‘Something like that,’ said Glenda.

‘And what good is this going to do?’

‘It’s going to win you the match, that’s what. Can you remember rule 202?’

She left him wondering and then hurried along to Mrs Whitlow and the cheerleaders who, right now, had nothing to cheer about. ‘I think we should give the boys a really good display at this time,’ she suggested. ‘Don’t you agree, Juliet?’

Juliet, who had been dutifully following her said, ‘Yes, Glenda.’

Yes, Glenda. And there it was again. One sentence. Two voices.

Mrs Whitlow was not the sort of person who would take an instruction from the head of the Night Kitchen, but Glenda leaned forward and said, ‘It’s the Archchancellor’s special request.’

The resurrection of Big Boy Barton was not an easy job and there were possibly fewer volunteers for putting their fingers down his throat than there had been for the Librarian. And his emptying and cleaning up took a little more time.

As the referee summoned the teams back into position, Glenda arrived out of breath and handed him a piece of paper. ‘What’s this?’

‘It’s the rules, sir, but you will see that I have put a ring around one of them.’

He glanced at it, and said dismissively, ‘Looks like a lot of nonsense to me.’

‘It’s not, sir, not if you look at it a bit at a time, sir, it’s the rules, sir.’

Archchancellor Henry shrugged and stuffed the paper into his pocket.

For a moment, Bledlow Nobbs glanced at Glenda, defiantly out of place amongst the cheerleaders. Glenda was known to be generous to her friends and she made the best tea in the university. This wasn’t about football, this was about a hot mug of tea and possibly a doughnut. He leaned down to Nutt. ‘Glenda says I’ve got to remember rule 202,’ he said.

Nutt’s face brightened. ‘Clever idea and of course it will work. Did she tell you to kick the ball out of the pitch?’

‘Yes, that’s right. Are we going to cheat?’ said Bledlow Nobbs.

‘No. We are going to stick to the rules. And the thing about sticking to the rules is that it’s sometimes better than cheating.’

Nobbs’s chance came soon enough, surprisingly with an obviously misdirected pass from Hoggett. Had Hoggett been standing very close when they had been talking? And had he just said ‘Go for it?’ It sounded very much like it. He kicked the ball straight towards the cheerleaders, where Glenda snatched it out of the air and pushed it into the folds of Mrs Whitlow’s skirt. ‘You haven’t seen this, ladies, you haven’t seen where it is and you’re not moving for anyone, okay?’

As the crowd booed and cheered, she pulled the tin can out of her bag and held it up in the air. ‘Ball lost!’ she yelled. ‘Substitute ball!’ and threw the can directly towards the bledlow, who was quick enough to flick it on to Nutt. Before any other player had moved, it landed with a little gloing! sound on the end of Trev Likely’s boot…