Making Money: A Novel of Discworld by Terry Pratchett

Author:Terry Pratchett [Pratchett, Terry]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Fantasy, Action & Adventure, Humorous, General
ISBN: 9780061795893
Google: xaAx_cctp9wC
Publisher: Harper Collins
Published: 2009-10-13T16:17:14+00:00

Chapter 7

The Joy of Collops – Mr Bent goes out to lunch – The Dark Fine Arts – Amateur thespians, avoidance of embarrassment by – The Pen of Doom! – Professor Flead gets cosy – ‘Lust comes in many varieties’ – A Hero of Banking! – Cribbins’s cup runneth over

THE SUN SHONE THROUGH the window of the bank’s dining room on to a scene of perfect pleasure.

‘You should sell tickets,’ said Adora Belle dreamily, with her chin in her hands. ‘People who are depressed would come here and go away cured.’

‘It’s certainly hard to watch it happening and be sad,’ said Moist. ‘It’s the enthusiastic way he tries to turn his mouth inside out,’ said Adora Belle.

There was a gulp from Mr Fusspot as the last of the sticky toffee pudding went down. He then turned the bowl over hopefully, in case there was any more. There never had been, but Mr Fusspot was not a dog to bow down to the laws of causality.

‘So …’ said Adora Belle, ‘a mad old lady – all right, a very astute mad old lady – died and gave you her dog, which sort of wears this bank on its collar, and you’ve told everyone that gold is worth less than potatoes, and you broke a dastardly criminal out of your actual Death Row, he’s in the cellar designing “banknotes” for you, you’ve upset the nastiest family in the city, people are queueing to join the bank because you make them laugh … what have I missed?’

‘I think my secretary is, uh, getting sweet on me. Well, I say secretary, she’s sort of assumed that she is.’

Some fiancées would have burst into tears or shouted. Adora Belle burst out laughing.

‘And she’s a golem,’ said Moist.

The laughter stopped. ‘That’s not possible. They don’t work that way. Anyway, why should a golem think he’s female? It’s never happened before.’

‘I bet there haven’t been many emancipated golems before. Besides, why should he think he’s male? And she bats her eyelashes at me … well, that’s what she thinks she’s doing, I think. The counter girls are behind this. Look, I’m serious. Trouble is, so is she.’

‘I’ll have a word with him … or, as you say, her.’

‘Good. The other thing is, there’s this man—’

Aimsbury poked his head around the door. He was in love.

‘Would you like some more minced collops, miss?’ he said, waggling his eyebrows as if to indicate that the joys of minced collops were a secret known only to a few.6

‘You’ve still got more?’ said Adora Belle, looking down at her plate. Not even Mr Fusspot could have cleaned it better, and she’d already cleaned it twice.

‘Do you know what they are?’ said Moist, who’d settled again for an omelette, made by Peggy.

‘Do you?’

‘No!’

‘Nor do I. But my granny used to do them and they are one of my happiest childhood memories, thank you very much. Don’t spoil it.’ Adora Belle beamed at the delighted chef. ‘Yes please, Aimsbury, just a little more, then.

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