The Last Continent - Terry Pratchett [108]
“You noticed something odd about this alley?” he said, over the top of the boxes. “There’re no drainpipes. There’re no gutters. They’ve never heard of rain here. I suppose you are the Luggage, aren’t you, and not some kangaroo in disguise? Why am I asking? Ye gods, these feel good. Right, let’s go—”
The Luggage opened its lid again, and a young woman looked up at Rincewind.
“Who are—? Oh, you’re the blind man,” she said.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Sorry…Darleen said you must be blind. Well, actually she said you must be bloody blind. Can you give me a hand out?”
It dawned on Rincewind that the girl clambering out of the Luggage was Neilette, the third member of Letitia’s crew and the one who’d seemed quite plain compared to the others and certainly a lot less…well, noisy wasn’t quite the word. Probably the word was “expansive.” They filled the space around them to capacity. Take Darleen, a lady he’d last seen holding a man daintily by the collar so that she could punch him in the face. When she walked into a room, there’d be no one in it unaware that she had done so.
Neilette was just…ordinary. She brushed some dirt off her dress, and sighed.
“I could see there was going to be another fight so I hid in Trunkie,” she said.
“Trunkie, eh?” said Rincewind. The Luggage had the decency to look embarrassed.
“Sooner or later there’s always a fight where Darleen goes,” said Neilette. “You’d be amazed the things she can do with a stiletto heel.”
“I think I’ve seen one of them,” said Rincewind. “Don’t tell me the others. Um, can I help you? Only me and Trunkie here”—he gave the Luggage a kick—“were heading off, weren’t we, Trunkie?”
“Oh, don’t kick her, she’s been so useful,” said Neilette.
“Really?” said Rincewind. The Luggage turned around slowly so that he couldn’t see the expression on its lock.
“Oh, yes. I reckon the miners in Cangoolie would’ve…been very unpleasant to Letitia if Trunkie hadn’t stepped in.”
“Stepped on, I expect.”
“How did you know that?”
“Oh, the L—Trunkie is mine. We got separated.”
Neilette tried to arrange her hair. “It’s all right for the others,” she said. “They just have to change wigs. Beer might be a good shampoo, but not when it’s still in the tinnie.” She sighed. “Oh, well. I suppose I’ll have to find a way home, now.”
“Where do you live?”
“Worralorrasurfa. It’s Rimwards.” She sighed again. “Back to life in the banana-bending factory. So much for showbusiness!”
Then she burst into tears and sat down heavily on the Luggage.
Rincewind didn’t know whether he should go into the “pat, pat, there, there” routine. If she was like Darleen, he might lose an arm. He made what he hoped was a soothing yet non-aggressive mumble.
“I mean, I know I can’t sing very well and I can’t dance but, frankly, neither can Letitia and Darleen. When Darleen sings ‘Prancing Queen’ you could slice bread with it. Not that they’ve been unkind,” she added quickly, polite even in the throes of woe, “but really there’s got to be more to life than getting beer thrown at you every night and being chased out of town.”
Rincewind felt confident enough to venture a “there, there.” He didn’t risk a “pat, pat.”
“Really I only did it because of Noelene dropping out,” Neilette sobbed. “And I’m about the same height and Letitia couldn’t find anyone else in time and I needed the money and she said it would be okay provided people didn’t notice my hands were so small…”
“Noelene being—?”
“My brother. I told him, trying for the surf championship is fine, and ballgowns are fine, but both together? I don’t think so. Did you know what a nasty rash you can get from being rolled across coral? And next morning Letitia had this tour organized and, well, it seemed a good idea at the time.”
“Noelene…” Rincewind mused. “That’s an unusual name for a…”
“Darleen said you wouldn’t understand.” Neilette stared into the middle distance. “I think my brother worked in the factory too long,” she mused. “He always was very impressionable.