Pepe nodded, although she expected that both those concepts were quite alien to him.

‘And paid,’ she added.

‘We’ll cut her in on the profits if she works exclusively for us,’ said Pepe. ‘Madame wants to talk to you about that.’

‘Yes, someone might want to pay her more than you do,’ said Glenda.

‘My, my, my. How fast we learn. I’m sure Madame will have great fun talking to you.’

Juliet looked from one to the other, sleep still wreathing her face. ‘You want me to go back to the shop?’

‘I don’t want you to do anything,’ said Glenda. ‘It’s up to you, okay? It’s just up to you, but it seems to me that if you stay here then basically what you’ll be doing is pies.’

‘Well, not just pies,’ said Juliet.

‘Well, no, fair enough, there are also flans, bubble and squeak and assorted late-night dainties,’ said Glenda. ‘But you know what I mean. On the other hand, you could go and show off all these fancy clothes and go to lots of fancy places a long, long way from here and see a lot of new people and you’d know that if it all goes pear-shaped you could always make it pie-shaped.’

‘Hah, nice one,’ said Pepe, who’d found another bottle.

‘I really would like to go,’ said Juliet.

‘Then go now. I mean right now, or at least as soon as he’s finished drinking the ketchup.’

‘But I’ll have to go back for my stuff!’

Glenda reached down inside her vest and pulled out a burgundy-coloured booklet with the seal of Ankh-Morpork on it.

‘What’s that?’ said Juliet.

‘Your bank book. Your money’s safe in the bank and you can take it out any time you want.’

Juliet turned the bank book over and over in her hands. ‘I don’t fink anyone in my family’s ever been in a bank except for Uncle Geoffrey and they caught up with ’im even before he got home.’

‘Keep quiet about it. Don’t go home. Buy yourself lots of new stuff. Get yourself sorted out and then go back and see your dad and everybody when you have. The point is, even if you don’t go right away, in your mind you should always be going. But the important thing is to go right now. Move out. Get on. Climb up. All the things I should have done.’

‘What about Trev?’ said Juliet.

Glenda had to think about that. ‘How are things with you and Trev, then? I saw you two talking last night.’

‘Talking is allowed,’ said Juliet defensively. ‘Anyhow, he was only telling me how he was going to get himself a better job.’

‘Doing what?’ said Glenda. ‘I’ve never seen him doing a straight day’s work in all the years I’ve known him.’

‘He says he’s going to find something,’ said Juliet. ‘He said Nutt told ’im to. He said Nutt said that when Trev finds out who Trev is, like, he will, like, know what he can do. So I told ’im he was Trevor Likely, and he said that was, you know, helpful.’

I’m stuck, aren’t I? Glenda told herself. I’m talking about changing and getting out, so I have to allow that maybe he’s going to, too. Aloud, she said, ‘It’s up to you. It’s all up to you, but just mind that he keeps his hands to himself.’

‘He always keeps his hands to himself,’ said Juliet. ‘It’s a bit worryin’. I’ve never had to think about kneeing him in the tonker, not once.’

There was a strangled laugh from Pepe, who had just discovered the wow-wow sauce. The bottle was almost empty and, in theory, he should have no stomach left.

‘Never, ever?’ said Glenda, mystified at this unnatural history.

‘No, he’s always very polite and just a bit sad.’

That must mean he’s planning something, Glenda’s inner self provided. She said, ‘Well, it’s up to you. I can’t help here, but remember, you’ve always got your knee.’

‘And what about… ?’ Juliet began.

‘Look,’ said Glenda firmly, ‘either you go off now and see the world and earn lots of money and get your picture in the papers and all of the other things I know you would really like to do, or you have to sort it out for yourself.’

‘We’re going to be here for some time,’ said Pepe. ‘You know, this sauce would be nice with a little bit of vodka in it. It really would give it a little bit of zest. A little bit of sparkle. Come to think of it, a lot of vodka would be even better.’

‘But I love ’im!’ Juliet wailed.

‘That’s all right, then, stay here,’ said Glenda. ‘Have you even kissed?’

‘No! He never quite gets round to it.’

‘Perhaps he’s one of those gentlemen who don’t like the ladies,’ said Pepe primly.

‘And we could really do without your input,’ snapped Glenda, turning on him.

‘I mean, for some of the others, like Rotten Johnny, I nearly wear my knee out, but Trev’s just… sweet, all the time.’

‘Look, I know you told me to keep out of this, and I know I’ve been a terrible sinner in my time and hope to remain so, but I have been around the houses more times than a postman and the reason for this imp ass is obvious,’ Pepe volunteered. ‘He’s got the nous to see that she’s so beautiful that she should be painted standing on some shell somewhere without her vest on and little fat pink babies inexplicably zooming around all over the place and he’s some kid with nothing more than a bit of street smarts. I mean, it’s pointless, isn’t it? He’s not going to stand a chance and he knows it, even if he doesn’t know he knows it.’

‘I’d give him a kiss if he wanted one and would definitely not knee him in the tonker,’ said Juliet.

‘You have to sort it out,’ said Glenda. ‘I can’t sort it out for you. If I tried, it would get sorted out all wrong.’

‘But—’ Juliet began.

‘No, that’s it,’ said Glenda. ‘Off you go, buy yourself lots of nice stuff–it’s your money. And if you don’t look after her, Mister Pepe, a knee would only be the start.’

Pepe nodded and very gently tugged Juliet away and down the stone steps.

Now what would I do at this point if I were in a romantic novel? Glenda said to herself as the footsteps died away. Her reading had left her pretty much an expert on what to do if you were in a romantic novel, although one of the things that really annoyed her about romantic novels, as she had confided to Mr Wobble, was that no one did any cooking in them. After all, cooking was important. Would it hurt to have a pie-making sequence? Would a novel called Pride and Buns be totally out of the question? Even a few tips on how to make fairy cakes would help, and be pretty much in period as well. She’d be a little happier if, even, the lovers could be thrown into the mixing bowl of life. At least it would be some acknowledgement that people actually ate food.

Around about now she knew, and knew all through her body, that she should be dissolving into a flood of tears. She started cleaning up the floor. Then she cleaned up the ovens. She always left them sparkling, but that was no reason not to clean them again. She used an old toothbrush to ease minute amounts of dirt from odd corners, scoured every pot with fine sand, emptied the grates, riddled the cinders, swept the floor, tied two brooms together to dislodge the spider’s webs of years from the high wall, and scrubbed again until the soapy water poured down the stone stairs and washed away the footprints.

Oh, yes–and one other thing. There were some anchovies on the freezing slab. She warmed up a couple and went to the large three-legged cauldron in the corner of the kitchen where last night she had chalked the words ‘Do Not Touch’. She took off the lid and peered into its depths. The crab that Verity Pushpram had given her last night, which seemed a very long time ago now, waved its eyeballs at her.

‘I wonder what would have happened if I had left the lid off?’ she said. ‘I wonder how fast crabs learn?’

She dropped in the soggy anchovies, which seemed to meet with crabby approval. With that done, she stood in the middle of the kitchen and looked for something else to clean. The black iron would never shine, but every surface had been scrubbed and dried. As for the plates, you could eat your dinner off them. If you wanted a job done properly, you had to do it yourself. Juliet’s version of cleanliness was next to godliness, which was to say it was erratic, past all understanding and was seldom seen.