A Midsummer Tight's Dream

by Louise Rennison

  What was she on about?

  I said, “Has she snapped?”

  As we looked at her everyone went silent. Sidone stretched both arms out to us and said, “My girls, my poor girls … my … poor … girls.” Her shoulders were heaving.

  And then she collapsed in a heap.

  Monty rushed over to Sidone and was slapping her about the face. Then he started tugging at her arm and Blaise and Bob came on and they took an arm and a leg each and began dragging her to the side of the stage. Like she was some golden fish fingers.

  Dr. Lightowler came striding on to the stage and said, “Clear the auditorium, girls. Ms. Beaver has lightly fainted. Move along quickly; she needs peace and quiet.”

  We shuffled out. What was going on?

  Flossie said, “Madame Frances was carted off to the loony bin last term, now Sidone this term. It’s the curse of Dother Hall.”

  I said, “Maybe her catsuit was too tight and it …”

  The girls were all looking at me.

  “And it cut … off … the blood to her … head.”

  As we went out into the front hall the whole school was talking about Sidone fainting. What did she mean about dreams becoming nightmares and “my poor girls, my poor girls”?

  Bob was bobbing about taking down one of his environmental notices.

  I said, “Has global warming finished then, Bob? I thought it was getting a bit colder.”

  He didn’t even look at us, just hitched his jeans up to nearly cover the crack in his bottom and said gloomily, “My next job will be boarding up the windows.”

  Vaisey said, “Why would you do that, how would we see out?”

  Bob said, “You won’t see out because you won’t be here. If Sidone can’t pay the taxman we’re all out of here. On the road again.”

  The atmosphere at Dother Hall was weird for the rest of the week. We saw Sidone, dressed in black, huddled in corners with Monty, Dr. Lightowler, and Gudrun. Looking very serious. Sometimes shaking a sad handkerchief at us as we passed. Even Blaise Fox seemed not her usual self. It didn’t stop her banging her drum though.

  We couldn’t believe that Dother Hall might close.

  Flossie said, “I’m not leaving. We could chain ourselves to the fence.”

  I said, “There isn’t a fence. Bob made it into swords for theatrical fencing class.”

  We were all worried though.

  On my way home on Friday I was just going out of the front doors of Dother Hall when I bumped into Blaise. She was about to get into her sports car and had enormous goggles on. Which she didn’t remove as I spoke to her. It seems that everyone who stays around here gradually turns into an owl.

  I said to her, “Ms. Fox, can I ask you, why did Ms. Beaver faint, and why is Bob saying that if she can’t pay the taxman we won’t be here? Is it true that Dother Hall might close?”

  I thought she was going to say, “Shut up, you fool.” But she didn’t.

  She said, “Hmmm, well, it’s not looking too good. We are going to know more on Monday, so try not to worry until then. Fling yourself around like a fool, that will cheer you up.”

  And she revved up her engine and tore off down the drive.

  I moped about it all the way down to Heckmondwhite.

  It’s only half-past eight but I’m in bed looking through my diary at my ideas.

  It’s probably pointless keeping it anyway if Dother Hall closes and I have to go back to a non-showbiz life. Blimey, just when you think that you are growing into your knees and climbing the ladder of showbiz, some fool comes and snatches away the ladder.

  If I leave Heckmondwhite, I will never see Alex the Good again. I can’t leave. Something has to happen.

  What did Harold say, “To sleep perchance to dream”?

  If I go to sleep, perchance I will dream, perchance I will dream up a way to save Dother Hall.

  That night I did dream. I was onstage at Dother Hall and the spotlight was on me. I smiled at the audience and a ripple of anticipation ran through the ranks of people. I said, “Last term I gave you my rendition of Sugar Plum Bikey, which had a few technical difficulties. However this year I would like to give you my interpretation of a flying scene by Titania, Queen of the Fairies. It’s from A Midsummer Night’s Dream, done with the aid of a rope and harness, which Bob has kindly agreed to operate.”

  Bob, dressed all in black, appeared from offstage. He said, “Ladies and gentlemen, this is a special effect I perfected on tour with Zep. The arena tour from the eighties. It is a rock-and-roll masterpiece.”

  He went offstage and the music began. I was hauled elegantly into the air by my harness (cunningly concealed in my fairy costume). Bob was huffing and puffing on the other end of the rope. I waggled my wings delicately and sang, “Lalalalalala, I am queen of the fairies.”

  A dashing Oberon-like figure, I think it may have been Alex, shouted out, “Ah, my queen, well met by moonlight!!!”

  I smiled at him as I adjusted my crown and wings. This time my ballet dress would not stick in the spokes of my bike. And catapult me through the fire curtains and into the backstage area. I knew this for a fact because I was not on a bike.

  Vaisey, Jo, and Flossie were also dressed as fairies, and Honey as Puck started singing, “Isn’t she lovely!! Isn’t she wonderful?”

  I was flying, I was gliding, my feet slightly off the ground, to give the impression of flight. The audience gasped at the beauty of it all. Oberon blew me a kiss. I blew him one back, thereby doing one-hand flying. It was so lovely.

  Then a cry went up from somewhere offstage: “Don’t forget your Bottom!!!” and Dr. Lightowler in her cloak leapt onto the stage with a massive Dumbo the Elephant head. It had long floppy ears and a trunk. She shoved the Dumbo head over mine and I couldn’t see a thing.

  I heard the audience gasp. As I was struggling to get the Dumbo head off, I started twirling round and round on the end of the rope. I was dizzy. I didn’t know where I was. I heard a voice shout, “Mind the wall, Dumbo!!”

  Blinded, I crashed into the side wall and the whole of Dother Hall started to shake and fall down.

  My corkers are on the move

  I WOKE UP TO discover that I had gone blind. Oh nooooooo. It was only when I sat up that I remembered I’d put two slices of cucumber on my eyes overnight to make them sparkly for The Jones’s gig.

  At this rate it might be the last gig I go to before I have to go back to Ireland. And my old life as a lanky fool.

  Still, it had stopped raining. I can’t worry about every little thing.

  About why Dr. Lightowler hates me and why she would put a Dumbo head on me.

  Or about whether Dother Hall is going to stay open.

  Or what Charlie means by “stuff.”

  Or whether my corkers have grown overnight.

  Hang on, I can worry about that, I’m going to measure.

  Oh yes!!!!! Thirty inches and a third. Yippeeee … hang on a minute. It’s three days since I last measured so that means they are growing a third of an inch every three days. If they keep growing like this, I’ll have to be airlifted out of bed.

  And how do they know to grow evenly?

  Perhaps they don’t.

  Maybe I should measure each one separately. I don’t want one being eight extra inches and one being only four inches.

  I wish I had never started this now.

  But, hey, I am here in Brontë country. This is not the place for having weak knees. This is the place for big, red sturdy knees. I don’t remember anything in Jane Eyre about her worrying about her corkers. In fact, I don’t think she even mentioned them. She was probably as worried as I am, but she didn’t mention it. Too many other things to worry about, like starvation and her husband imprisoning his first wife in the attic and then setting fire to himself.

  I can learn something from Em, Chazza, and Anne. I will display Northern grit.

  I washed and blow-dried my hair and made it va-va-voom. I feel better already.


  As I was doing some practice swishing, Dibdobs shouted up the stairs, “See you later, Tallulah! We’re going to look for more volunteer knitters.”

  And the door slammed.

  I went down to the kitchen. Through the side window, I could see Dibdobs and the lunatic twins talking to people on the green. I saw Mrs. Wombwell hiding behind the church wall when she saw the Dobbinses approaching. I knew how she felt.

  I wonder who will go to The Jones’s gig? I’m only going because Vaisey wants to see Jack so much. And Jo wants us Tree Sisters to give her moral support while she waits for Phil’s phone call. I am a very good pal actually because I have no reason to go. And in fact I would rather not go. I haven’t seen Cain since the nose-licking thing and I don’t want to.

  I wonder if any of the Woolfe boys will go? Will Charlie be there?

  I was having a lie down on my squirrel bed while my face mask (homemade, egg white and curry powder … well, I thought it might give my skin a bit of a tanned glow, it was quite orange colored) took hold and worked its magic. I was planning how icy and cool I was going to be if Charlie did turn up. And wanted to “talk.”

  Oh, I bet I can guess what he wants to “talk” about, probably how much he really likes his girlfriend and can we just be friends. Yeah, well, friends don’t do snogging and hugging, do they?

  I won’t say that though. I will just look at him and nod. Icily. So he doesn’t really know what my nod means. But he will know I am being icy.

  In all honesty, after I have punished him with my icy nod, I would quite like to be friends with him. Even after being so upset. It would be nice to have a boy matey mate. Maybe he could help me understand how boys work? He might even be able to help me with Alex.

  I went to run a bath and heard the sound of a stone being thrown against my window.

  It was Ruby with Matilda. She looked up and said, “Bloody Nora, tha looks like a pillock.”

  I said, “Thanks for that, Ruby.”

  “Hey, you will nivver guess what, there might be trouble at The Jones’s gig toneet. I can’t wait. All the village girls are saying that you Dother Hall lot are stuckup Lady Mucks that are stealing their lads.”

  What?

  She was hopping up and down, she was so excited.

  “Yeah, and get this, Beverley is sneaking out to the gig toneet, she’s banned by her mum after her nearly drowning when Cain messed her about before.”

  I said, “Ruby, she didn’t nearly drown, she just sat in the river and got her dress wet and then went to bed for a fortnight.”

  Ruby tutted. “You’ve got no imagination, you. Come down and see the owlets wi’me.”

  I said, “I can’t, the girls are coming round soon to get ready.”

  “Good, I’ll come round and get ready as well.”

  “Ruby, you aren’t going to the gig.”

  “I am.”

  “I heard your dad say that you’re too young.”

  Ruby kicked a stump.

  “If me mam was still here, she would let me go. It’s only because he’s a bloke and he dun’t know owt.”

  I’d never asked Ruby about where her mum was and I didn’t want to ask her now with my hair in curlers and the curry powder making my eyes water.

  She stomped off down to the barn.

  The girls arrived just after lunch with their stuff for the gig.

  They hadn’t managed to find out much else about the taxman–Dother Hall situation because all the teachers were away and Bob was left in charge. And he was locked in his studio.

  Jo was beside herself … but not about the downfall of Dother Hall. About the phone call from Phil. She said, “What time is it? Should we go to the phone box now and sort of stake it out, so that no one else can go in at seven o’clock?”

  To distract her, I said, “Let’s start getting ready. You’ll want to look your best for the phone call.” To my amazement, she thought that was a good idea.

  The girls have brought their clothes and makeup in little cases. And we started doing pre-makeup moisturizing. Honey said to me, “Tallulah, there ith brown thtuff in your eyebwow …”

  The rest of them moved away from me.

  I said, “It’s only curry powder.”

  Flossie said, “That’s what they all say.”

  I washed it off.

  Honey knows a lot of tips about makeup. She said, “The thing ith to enhance your natuwal beauty, not cover it up.”

  So for instance, because Flossie had “such a nice fwinge” she should make more of her lips. But not bother with her eyebrows because it was pointless. To enhance my green eyes, Honey showed me how to do layers of mascara and then said eyeliner would weally set them off.

  I’m going to miss her when she goes, she’s so confident and nice. Like when she looked into Charlie’s eyes and she didn’t start doing Irish dancing or blinking her eyes like a fool.

  I am going to try and be more like her.

  At six thirty we were all ready and Jo was bouncing round like a bean on jumping bean powder. Even though it was only early evening, it was pitch-black as we made our way over to the gig. There were lights streaming out of the hall and we could see people inside unrolling cables and setting up a bar. When we got nearer, we heard guitars being tuned up and already outside there were figures sloping around in the shadows.

  Vaisey said, “I think I can hear Jack on the drums. I wonder if he knows I’m going to be here. He said ‘see you at the gig,’ didn’t he? But that might mean ‘see you all at the gig’ but he didn’t say ‘see you all at the gig everybody,’ did he?”

  We shook our heads.

  “If … if he talks to me, you don’t think the Bottomly sisters will get me, do you? I mean, he’s not a village lad, is he? He’s just in the band, but maybe they think that’s like being an honorary village lad?”

  Was there really going to be trouble? Who knows? Who cares? I am not interested in any of the village lads anyway. And never will be.

  Quite a few of the other girls from Dother Hall started arriving as well, primping around with compacts and lipsticks and giggling. They are all excited about The Jones. They think they are cool. Hmmm, well, they have never had their noses licked by any of them. Milly and Tilly were both dressed exactly the same.

  I said to Jo, “I think that is a bit on the weird side, myself. They are not twins. In fact, even if I was a twin and my twin was wearing orange culottes, I wouldn’t feel I had to. Anyway, I think orange culottes are just the kind of thing to annoy the Bottomly sisters.”

  Jo said, “Is it seven o’clock yet?”

  I don’t think she has heard a thing anyone has said for about four hours, she is so wound up about Phil’s phone call.

  The five of us went over to the telephone box at about quarter to seven and stood around waiting. It was all a bit tense.

  Jo kept saying, “What shall I say? What will he say? Why is he calling? Is he calling me because he doesn’t want to see me again? Why would he call to say that? I wouldn’t call to say that, would you?”

  On and on.

  Honey said, “Welax. Bweathe. Think ‘I am in my glorwee. I am gorguth. I have got a twemendous bottom.’”

  We were so nervous that even though we’d been waiting for the phone to ring when it did we all screamed with fright. Jo stared at the ringing telephone like a demented rabbit and I had to get her by the shoulders and put her next to the phone. And pick it up for her.

  We stood a little way off to give her some privacy.

  Flossie said, “What’s her face doing?”

  I looked. “I think she’s shouting.”

  Oh dear.

  Ruby came out of the darkness with Matilda. Matilda was still wearing her tutu although I noticed it was a bit grubby and had almost come off at the back.

  Ruby said, “What’s Jo doing?”

  I said, “She’s shouting.”

  Ruby said, “Oh, bloody hell, I hope she doesn’t vandalize the phone box.”

  As we
waited like telephone guard dogs, more and more people were turning up at the hall and queuing to go in. It was mostly locals but no sign of the Bottomlys. One or two of the village girls looked at us but they didn’t smile.

  Then Jo slammed down the phone and came out of the phone box. She looked like thunder.

  Oh nooooo.

  We went up to her and gave her a group hug. And she started sobbing. Oh crikey.

  Then she yelled, “Get off me, you losers!!!! He likes me, he likes me, he really, really likes me. AND he’s got a plan. He’s got a plan!!!”

  We all started whooping.

  Vaisey said, “What is it? What is his plan? Is he going to be good and ask to come back to Woolfe Academy?”

  Jo said, “No, he is going to do something SOOOOO bad that he will get sent back to Woolfe Academy in disgrace by his very disappointed parents!! Yes!”

  I said, “What sort of thing is he thinking of?”

  Jo said, “I don’t know, he thought at first he might burn the school caretaker’s shed down with Bunsen burners but he thought that might get him sent to Borstal. It has to be something bad, but not criminal.”

  Vaisey said, “He could tie all the teachers’ shoelaces together so they fall over.”

  Flossie said, “He could kidnap the headmaster and then just send bits of his clothes to the school. You know, like a bit of his tie, or the toe from one of his socks. With a ransom note saying, ‘Let Phil go back to Woolfe, otherwise the trousers get it!’”

  She really has gone mad.

  I think she and Seth Hinchcliff may be a marriage made in heaven (ish).

  He’s a rusty heathen crow

  BY THE TIME WE stopped talking about Phil and what he could do, the joint was quite literally hopping inside and out. Vaisey was so wound up about seeing Jack that she was practically herding us into the hall like a collie dog. Ruby snuck in with us but one of the blokes from The Iron Pies who was on bouncer duty saw her and said, “Ay up, Ruby, I see thee, you little madam. Get along home now, your dad’ll have our guts for garters if we let thee in.”

  Ruby was livid and was kicking the wall.

  I said, “Never mind, Rubes, your day will come. We’ll go and see the owlets tomorrow and you can wear the lipstick I bought you.”