I am so sorry that this took so long, but I thank all you who reviewed and finally got me to do the second half of this story. I hope it was close to worth the wait.
Chapter 2
Wherever the local population goes above 50, one a certain kind of pub appears. The floor is never swept even in the most health-conscious of places, the lights are never above dim, the pool table never gets played, there's either no music or terrible country 'n' western and the barkeep is always in a god mood 'cos he/she/it knows that the statutory minimum of three drunks fossilized at the bar are lightening rods for every kind of bad luck there is. It's a place people talk and never get listened to, but that's okay because they don't expect to be listened to, they just talk. Or else they sit and stare into a drink all night, projecting a depression field that could dampen Genuas mood on Fat Tuesday. It's always quiet, but in Ankh-Morpork at least, the barkeeps make more money than the Broken Drum, if only because they don't have to pay for damages.
Nobby stared glumly at the ground as he walked, unknowingly steering for the pub that everyone in the city calls to at least once. It was like the Biers in its selectivity, only those so low they couldn't look up got called and tonight, Nobby was top of the list.
The barkeep looked up from nodding understandingly1) as the door opened noiselessly and Nobby slunk in, heading for a bar stool.2) A pint was automatically filled and set out and just as automatically drank. The barkeep silently handed the off-duty corporal another p9nt and turned back to the swaying storyteller, you learned who to leave alone in this job.
About an hour later, the door opened again and a rather pretty red-head walked in and sat at the bar, beside Nobby. The barkeep got her a drink which in a cheerier place would have had an umbrella and a cheery in it and refilled Nobbys pint.
'Nobby,' the woman said after a round of silence.
'Cat,' Nobby replied.
'Haven't seen you here in a while.'
'Sconner.' There was a few moments of silence in which the muffled drunken sobs of a former high-flier could be heard. Cat looked Nobby over expertly.
'Another trip?' she asked eventually. 'Or just a fall this time.'
'Filing cabinet and an over-zealous Igor actually.'
'Learnt better excuses then I see.'
'Had a lot of practise.'
'So I heard.' In the silence that followed the barkeep refilled both glasses, casting an expert eye over Nobby as he did so. The beslinged Corporal had been sinking them on a regular basis since he'd walked in and the barkeep was still nosy enough to want to be here when the floodgates opened.
Nobby stared into his pint, carefully not putting any weight on his arm Amazing how the tricks come back to you huh? as he leant on the bar. He knew Cat for years, she was one of his so-few-as-to-be-non-existent friends growing up, from even before the whole business with John Cale. They had made a good team then, she distracted, he lifted, simple. They knew everything about each other, still did, even though he was a corporal in the now-respectable Night Watch and she was still right in the bottom layer of the City's strata.
'Old Ricks back from Quirm,' Cat murmured after a while.
'I know,' Nobby muttered, she was also one of his many sources throughout the city and was his most reliable.
'Did you know that he and Thin Don are blagging Gimlet Thundergusts place Thursday night?' Nobby thought, then took out his notebook and wrote it in carefully, like Vimes always said and the recruits were just learning, coppering was a 26hour, 8day a week job.
'When ya back on?' Cat asked as he closed his notebook with a snap and stowed it away somewhere.
'Four days.' He caught Cats disbelieving look. 'Seriously, we've got an Igor now, works wonders.'
'Could've done with one of them a few years ago then, eh Nobby?' she half-laughed. Nobby shrugged and knocked back the last third of his pint. Cat looked at him for a few moments before she finished her own drink and stood.
'Well,' she said. 'The money won't walk to me.'
'But the one carrying it will,' Nobby finished their old saying with a grin. Cat smiled sadly and left enough coin on the bar to pay for her drinks and melted into the brightening morning outside.
The barkeep glanced at the clock then around at the bar. Most of the customers had either passed out or left and his shift was nearly over. But still Nobby ploughed through his pints on a conveyer belt basis. The barkeep picked up Nobbys tab and handed it to him, watching him like a hawk. Nobby handed the money over with barely a glance, which in itself was worrying enough in this city of money-pinchers but added to the earlier behaviour caused alarm bells to ring in the barkeeps head. He hesitated for a moment before leaving two pints in a line in front of Nobby, hanging up his apron and scuttling out the door in search of a Watch man.
Nobby didn't even notice.
1) Nodding understandingly was an important criteria for this job as was the ability to listen to basically the same story hundreds of times over with only small variances. The barkeep was one of the best.
2) At that same instant, one of the other drunks unsteadily got up and left. There is only ever three drunks staying at the bar, no more no less, ever. Sometimes transient beings occupy the extra stools but they soon leave, pressured by the force which is only knows as The Way Things Are.
==========================================================================================================
'Who's that?' Constable Thighbreaker looked to where Constable o' Day indicated, a man was coming down the road in the manner of someone who was not altogether sure that it's a good idea to be there. He was looking for something as well, little darting glances into every alley and doorway, pausing at the cross streets to peer down them
'No idea,' Thighbreaker replied. 'Looks like a barkeeper.'
'Lets find out what's up then,' O' Day said, while he was a good copper, the prospect of a free beer wasn't something to pass up.
The barkeep glanced up the street and to the coppers surprise and immediate suspicion 3), an expression of relief crossed his face.
'Finally,' the barkeep gasped as he huffed up to them. 'There's a bit of trouble at my pub.'
'What kind of trouble?' Thighbreaker asked, there were many kinds of trouble and neither copper was interested in committing suicide 5). The barkeep hesitated before giving an outline of Nobby and his behaviour. The constables looked at each other before O' Day wordlessly got a line on the nearest semaphore tower and sent a message back to H.Q. After all, the first thing learnt in Detritus's school tended to be when to call in back-up.
3) People don't act like that in Ankh-Morpork, they just don't. Because that kind of behaviour means sticking your nose into other peoples business and that is a big no-no in a city where its always possible that said nose can be torn off and eaten.4) And a person looking relieved when they see a copper is very rare indeed and usually spells trouble for said copper.
4) Unless you're a copper or some other licensed suspicious bugger.
5) It is very easy to commit suicide in Ankh-Morpork, especially if you're a copper. Examples include trying to stop Chrysophrases gang from robbing places, trying to catch Chrysophrases gang after they've robbed places and trying to hold Chrysophrases gang after they're been caught for robbing places. As well as minor things like traffic control, solving murders, uncovering conspiracies, stopping gang wars and entering pubs to end fights. That doesn't mean that they don't do all these things and more besides, it just means that legally, they're commiting suicide by doing it. But the upside is, they get paid more for it.
==========================================================================================================
Captain Carrot knocked on the Commanders door and entered to see Vimes slapping on his helmet and lighting a cigar, clearly on his way out.
'If its anything to do with the City or anything not to do with being home for my son waking up,' Vimes warned. 'Then I don't want to hear about it.' Vimes's irregular work hours meant that he was rarely home to put young Sam to bed but it was a bad day for everyone when he couldn't be there when he woke up.
'Its Nobby sir,' Carrot said. 'A semaphore was sent here by Thighbreaker and O' Day, asking for help.' Vimes stopped and looked at Carrot.
'How many know?'
'Me, the gargoyle, Thighbreaker. O' Day the Barkeep and Nobby.'
'Have a message sent back that they're not to do anything,' Vimes said after a minute. 'I'll sort it out.' And gods help Nobby when he comes back from leave
==========================================================================================================
Nobby himself knew little of this, barely glancing up when the barkeep came back, did even less when someone sat on the stool next to him. Not even the fact that the unknown person ordered fruit juice got through. Vicious memories had him caught up.
'Nobby,' Vimes said after a while.
'Mister Vimes,' was the reply.
'What's happening here then?' Vimes said calmly, as if Nobby was heading at a crime scene he had just arrived on and needed to be brought up to scratch.
'Just another domestic disturbance,' Nobby sighed.
'Any priors?' The silence that question evoked stretched on for so long that Vimes was about to try a different tack before Nobby spoke.
He spoke of Sconner and his ever-present anger that could be sparked into incoherent rage by the mere presence of anyone but particularly his son. He spoke of the constant fear that kept him out for days on the streets getting enough jewellery and money to go home, not even daring to spend a few pennies on food. He spoke of those terrifying times when he presented his "earnings" to Sconner followed by both intense relief and an odd sense of gratitude when he got enough or agonizing pain when he didn't. And he spoke of other, darker things that Vimes hadn't even suspected.
'I remember celebrating whenever he got dragged off to the Tanty,' Nobby said, sucking hard on his last dog-end, fingers shaking. 'But mum didn't. I asked her why not and she said that he'd come back sooner or later, he always did. I didn't care too much then, you never think about the future when you're a kid.' Nobby stared into his pint, despite his current alcohol to body mass ratio, his speech was clear and so was his head. 'But when the messenger came and I told her what he said, she stated laughing. She laughed so hard that she was crying then pulled me around the kitchen in a jig.' Nobby smiled suddenly. 'I didn't even know she could dance. She threw a party, just pulled all this money and jewellery out of the floorboards and got everyone in the street to come over and spent the next two days laughing and dancing and having the best time of her life.' Nobbys smiled failed. 'Making up for lost time I guess. Buried her up at Small Gods a week later, still had a smile on her face.'
'Where's Sconner?' Vimes asked.
'Rotting in Hell.' Vimes didn't comment on this completely un-Nobby like statement and simply ordered another round from the new – the first ones shift had ended and he had reluctantly left – barkeep who was preoccupied by a drunk sobbing into his shirt.
'I thought I was over, it,' Nobby said quietly after the new pint arrived and the barkeep left. 'Even the nightmares were gone. Then I woke up this morning and realized what day I was heading into.'
'And then the domestic,' Vimes finished. Nobby nodded slowly.
'Yep, good old Grimes.' Nobby downed the end of his old pint and pulled the new one to him. Now the drink was starting to show.
'I guess,' he said, swaying ever-so-slightly on his stool. 'I never really got that he was dead, you now? Like, I was just waiting for him to come out of the shadows some night and,' his voice trailed off. 'I guess what mum said about him always coming back got to me more than I thought. And tonight.' Nobby took Vimes's offered cigar automatically, but his hands were shaking so badly that he couldn't light it. 'Tonight I nearly froze completely, nearly went back to that little boy who was terrified of Sconner cos I saw him in Grimes.' Nobby paused and thought about that last sentence. 'I must be more drunk than I thought, did I make any sense there?'
'A little,' Vimes shrugged, smiling slightly.
'Oh well,' Nobby smiled, then sighed so hard that his toast-rack chest nearly filled the breastplate of his uniform. 'But I looked around Grimes and damn-near through window, and my mum wasn't the woman crying on the floor. And I wasn't the little lad screaming in the corner and the bastard who did it wasn't Sconner.' Nobby rubbed his face, he was getting tired, but he wanted to finish, he had to.
'Did it make it better?'
'Yes, and no. Realizing that made me able to hurt Grimes.' Automatic coppering filtration systems erased the word "hurt" from the conversation. 'And stop him. But I cant hurt Sconner anymore and I could never stop him.'
'You were only a boy,' Vimes began.
'Exactly.' Nobby drank the rest of his pint and stubbed out the cigar, stowing the rest away. 'Just a young boy.' He got up from his stool and turned to Vimes. 'Old Rick and Thin Don are blagging Gimlet Thundergusts place Thursday night.' Vimes didn't ask if he was sure, if Nobby didn't think it worth mentioning, he wouldn't have mentioned it.
'Cheers Nobby,' he said instead. 'Will I see you Thursday?'
'Maybe not,' Nobby replied, then smiled. 'But I'll see you.' Nobby picked up his helmet and turned to leave. 'Thanks Mister Vimes,' he said at the door.
'Anytime Nobby, anytime.'
=========================================================================================================
The day had properly begun before Sir Samuel Vimes finally arrived at his home. He went around to the dragon pens at the back of the house, wanting to see his wife.
'Sam,' he heard Sybil exclaim. 'Don't do that!' then the familiar sound of a dragon blowing itself up. Sam looked around the corner to see Sybil Vimes née Ramkin, Duchess and richest woman in Ankh-Morpork with arguably the most prestigious ancestry in the lands around the Circle Sea, wearing a tweed skirt Wellingtons and a ragged shirt, picking dragon skin off their nine month old son whose hair was now frazzled. 'You are just like your father,' Vimes heard her scold with a smile on her face.
'That's an awful thing to say to the poor kid,' Sam said, going over to her. 'You'll give him a complex saying things like that.' Sybil raised an eyebrow at him.
'Well? He's got to face it sometime.' Vimes took their wriggling son and to the utmost surprise of both of them, gave his wife an enormous hug, in full view of the Interchangeable Emmas. 'What was that for?' she asked when he let go. 'Not that I mind or anything.'
'I just realized that I have a lot to be thankful for,' Sam told her, looking at his son who was making faces in his fathers breastplate and laughing. Sybil smiled and kissed him.
'Ask the cook to put the kettle on,' she said. 'Ill be in in a few minutes.' Vimes nodded and turning, went in the scullery door to the kitchen, bouncing young Sam as went.
He found Wilkins in the kitchen, having a cup of tea. 'Hold Sam a moment,' Vimes said, handing his son to the butler before he re-filled the kettle and put it on the range to boil.
'And what are your plans for today sir?' Wilikins asked while tickling young Sam to make him squeal and wriggle in delight.
'Spending it with my family,' Vimes told him, taking Sam back and whooshing him around like a bird.
Wilikins watched the scene for a few moments before getting up as quietly as only good butlers can and leaving the room. He gently closed the door and stood for a moment, listening to the sound of father and son laughing together, before going about his duties with a smile on his face.
===========================================================================================================
Nobby was lying stretched out on his bed, looking at the ceiling. He smiled suddenly as he remembered his mother dancing in the kitchen and laughed out loud when he remembered the look on her face when he walked in on her and Mister MacDowell from down the road, a man she had fancied for years and was now able to go after and with a vengeance. And with that good memory, he succumbed to the drink and tiredness and fell asleep, a small smile staying about his lips for the night.