Vaisey says, “And I do a bit of tap. We mean no harm, we just want to don our tights and tap-dance our way to the top.”
I say, “Yes, yes, we want to live forever, we want to learn how to fly!!”
Everyone stares at us.
I say desperately, “Look! We can prove it! We are wearing our new all-in-one dance bodies-and-leggings underneath our kagouls.”
The burly landlord says, “Put them in the room with the others.”
We are led to a door and when it opens we see . . . the room is full of performance art students. Some in all-in-one body-and-leggings dancewear.
A few just in leggings. Some of them are very old.
Walking to college with Vaisey, I said, “It will be a relief to get back to the Dother ship.” I was wrong.
Jo was waiting for us by the gates because she’s had a note from Phil, asking her to meet him outside M & S on Wednesday to see a film called Night of the Vampire Bats.
Jo showed us his note:
This film makes Twilight seem like afternoon.
Jo said, “Look, and this is where you two come in.”
Bring two others, for my mates. Phil.
Jo looked at me and Vaisey.
I said, “No.”
Jo went on and on all day. It was driving me mad.
Everywhere I looked she was doing her saddy face.
When I went to the loo she was there outside the loo door, looking at me like a sad puppy. Not even saying anything.
The trouble was that Vaisey had said she would go, “just for a laugh,” but I think she is hoping that Jack would be going. So it was all right for her. Flossie and Honey are off the hook because they have extra singing that night.
I finally gave in when Jo gave me an apple with a little crying face carved in it.
Night of the Vampire Bats
I DON’T KNOW WHY I am so bothered about this “date.”
I’m not even officially on the date.
We had to go and try and get permission from Sidone to go to the cinema at nighttime. She was in her inner chamber, um, I mean office. She was lying down on a chaise longue with a cup of tea.
“Darlings, I am ex-hausted. I had a call from a friend directing Cats and he has bled me dry. I have practically redesigned the whole thing lying on this chaise longue. Sit, sit.”
We sat, sat.
“It beggars belief that he would only realize he didn’t have enough cat costumes the day before he opens. They can be an ugly, demanding crowd in Cleckheaton. I know, I gave my Ophelia there and someone called the social services. Sometimes this profession is a tyranny. Still, darlings, you came to see me for something?”
I said, “We’d like to go to the cinema in Skipley on Wednesday night, because we were thinking that for the lunchtime performance we could, um, use some of the ideas and themes from the film.”
She was very, very interested. Unfortunately. And swept her hair back. “What are you thinking? What is this germ, this shoot you are nurturing? Is it an interior idea? What is the film?”
And Jo said, “Well . . . it’s called . . . Night of the Vampire Bats.”
She said, “Yes, and what is it about?”
Jo said helpfully, “It’s set at night.”
Sidone was looking into the distance and twirling her earrings. “Ah, the night. The mysterious, shadowy underworld that covers so many, many broken dreams.”
I thought she was going to start crying, she was so moved by her broken dreams.
Jo stumbled on, “But, but, really I think it’s about . . . um . . . an interior darkness.”
I was just about to say, “That bats must feel because they can’t see much.” But luckily Sidone stood up.
“Marvelous! I utterly see where you are going with this. . . . It’s the long dark night of the soul, isn’t it?”
I was inwardly thinking, You can say that again, but outwardly saying, “Um.”
Anyway, we are allowed to go. Amazingly.
As we came out of her office, she shouted after us, “Strive, strive for authenticity, my dears. Even when you feel the cold tremors of fear and bleakness tearing and biting at your heels.”
As we closed the door to her inner sanctum, I said, “I think I can feel my feet beginning to bleed quite a lot.”
I was exhausted from lying. I’m so useless at it.
Vaisey said to Jo, “You said that Night of the Vampire Bats was about interior darkness.”
I said, “Well, it will be. It’s really dark in the cinema.”
Jo was pleased because we had got away with it. She shook her little head and said, “Yes, OK, it is about bats . . . but mostly . . . it’s . . . about my very first date!!!!”
I said bitterly, “It’s all right for you, but me and Vaisey don’t know if we are officially on a date or just part of an away-day package supersaver. Three for the price of one.”
Jo looked up at both of us and said, “I know you are doing this for me, and I’d just like to say thank you, my new friends.”
And she gave us a friendly biff on the arm to show how very pleased she was.
For a small girl she packs quite a punch.
As we strolled to the gates to go home, I shouted back, “Didn’t you say that Phil is too small for you?”
Jo shouted back like I was a bit thick, “Tallulah, it’s the cinema. We’ll be sitting down.”
The next evening, I met Vaisey in the dressing room of life. Otherwise known as Vaisey’s room in The Blind Pig. Even though I am on a not-really-date, I am still nervous.
I have makeup on and Vaisey has made my hair go va-va-voom with her hair dryer. Anyway, now Vaisey and Ruby want me to try a red dress on. It’s Vaisey’s and she says it’s too long for her.
I said, “No, I don’t wear dresses.”
They both went on and on, and Ruby even made Matilda lift her paw up and look at me.
As if she was saying in dog language, “Please put the dress on, otherwise I may never eat another bonio treat again.”
It was pathetic. But it worked, because in the end I agreed to at least try on the dress. I went behind the door. It was a bit tight getting it on.
I said, “It’s too small for me. I can’t lift my arms up.”
Vaisey said, “Come out and show us.”
Ruby said, “You’ve left your cardigan and jeans on.”
I said, “It’s all the rage.”
She said, “No, it’s not. You look like the Sheriff of Nottingham.”
I said, “I have to have them . . . on . . . in case I get cold.”
Ruby said, “Take them off. Now.”
In the end I went behind the door and took off my stuff and put on the dress. When I came out I could see myself in the mirror.
The dress came to midthigh. Which in normal legs would mean a third of the way down your leg. In my case, it meant that it was an eighth of the way down my leg.
No one actually said anything at first, they just looked at my legs—even Matilda.
Then Ruby said, “I think it looks brill.”
Vaisey was nodding.
Matilda was nodding, too. But it may be fleas.
Then Ruby suddenly said, “Oy, you’re getting lady bumps!!! I can see ’em.”
What what???
I put my arms over my front.
“Oooooh, give us a look.”
I said, “I’m not a horse. You’ll be feeling my fetlocks in a minute.”
In fact Ruby did try to feel them.
I wanted to skip around shouting, “I’ve got corkers!” But I didn’t, because Ruby would quite likely yell downstairs to her dad.
But I am deeply down secretly thrilled.
I am so very right to keep up my secret rubbing practices.
When we were ready I told Ruby, “Now you cannot sneak out with us and sit in the back row, spying for a laugh.”
On our way out to catch the bus we passed Mr. Barraclough in the bar combing the hair of one of his stuffed stags. He had
given it a center parting, which is not respectful of a noble breed. But I didn’t say.
He did glance up as we passed and said to Ruby, “Where’s the other big lad gone?”
And then he looked at me and said, “Oh, there you are.”
I said to Ruby, “It’s very hard to think that your dad, is, well, Alex’s dad. Alex not around, then?”
Ruby rolled her eyes.
When we got to the bus stop Jo was there waiting for us. Hopping about. Which was a bit odd because she was also sitting on the wall.
She looked lovely. All shiny and dark. Mad, but shiny and dark also. She was wearing a wrapover top and a rough-cut denim skirt with wedgie shoes. And a lot of bangles and necklaces.
She said, “Do I look all right? Would you snog me?”
I said, “What? Now?”
And me and Ruby and Vaisey laughed.
But Jo wasn’t in a laughy mood.
She was in an “I’ve gone mad” mood.
On and on. Is he too short? Am I too short? What is too short??
Ruby said, “Jo, if I were thee, I’d stick to smiling a lot. And shut your gob for the rest of the time. See thee later. Vaisey, make sure you tell me all about it.”
The bus came and we got on. And it was only then that I thought of something.
“What if they get on at the next stop? That’s where they got off last time. What if they get on and we have to do sitting-down hello for the first time? How do you do sitting-down hello?”
In the end we were so hysterical that we went to the back of the bus and crouched down in our seats. Then Vaisey started singing the theme tune to Doctor Who as we drew near to the dreaded bus stop.
As it happened, they didn’t get on.
But it had left us all even more jittery.
Vaisey said, “Maybe they jogged to Skipley?”
I said, “I don’t think so. Phil and Charlie had to have a lie down for five minutes after they started running, if you remember?”
We were bouncing along, and the bus driver had been shouting stuff about the places we were passing. Even though we didn’t ask him to. Even though nobody asked him to.
Stuff like, “On your left you will notice the free-range egg sign. Old Stoat Farm do a range of free-range products that cannot be beat. The bearded couple who own it, from Leeds I believe, sleep in the same barn as the hens, in case the hens have a nasty dream. That is how caring and stupid townsfolk can be.”
Just as we passed Grimbottom, he shouted, “That randy bull’s at it again.”
Vaisey had been applying lip gloss for most of the journey.
I said, “Vaisey, how much lip gloss can you get on? You’ll never be able to get off the bus at this rate.”
Jo was looking in her compact mirror and fiddling about with her hair.
She said, “I don’t even know why I am doing this. He might not be able to see my hair. Where do you think he comes up to on me?” And she stood up swaying around on the bus.
She said, “Do you think he would come up to my ears?”
I said, “Shut up about your ears. At least you know who you’re meeting. What about me and Vaisey? We’re just the ‘two others.’”
I was chatting for chatting’s sake really, to keep my mind off imagining Phil’s friend who might be my date. I wouldn’t mind if it was Charlie. And Phil and Charlie are mates. And Charlie liked my knees. But what if Charlie came and preferred Vaisey?
That would be a double blow. Unless the other one that wasn’t him was dreamy.
But whatever happened, neither one of them was going to be Alex.
Alex was out of my league.
I wasn’t even in a league.
To him I was just another little fourteen-and-a-half-year-old. He probably couldn’t tell the difference between one fourteen-and-a-half-year-old and another, they all looked the same to him. Stupid.
The bus finally juddered to a halt at the M & S stop and we got off. There was no one there. Well, apart from a woman in headscarf and Wellingtons.
She got on the bus and the bus driver said, “Mary Bottomly, you are a dream come true. A vision of beauty in a world of—”
She cuffed him on his cap and said, “Don’t bloody start, I’ve just had some cow heel and it’s made my bloody lips stick together like superglue.”
I said to the other two, “This is no place for artists. Look, why don’t we just get a Coke and catch the next bus back before—”
And then we saw Phil and Jack and . . . someone who was not Charlie, bowling toward us. I wish I had my jeans on; my legs were feeling very shy and exposed. They hadn’t been out much.
Phil whistled at us and said, “Oy oy!”
Jack and “the other one” were grinning, but not saying anything. This might be a very long night, and I was already longing to be tucked up with my squirrel slippers.
Phil said, “This is Jack, you met him before on the bus, and this is Ben. Ben is excellent at all sorts of sport. Aren’t you, Ben?”
Ben was nodding and smiling now.
He had floppy hair and it was going up and down.
Ben was quite good-looking, a bit on the floppy-hair side. But tall.
As we went along to the cinema the boys were walking ahead, sort of stopping and turning round and making jokes to one another.
Vaisey said quietly to me, “Lullah, can I have Jack?”
What is the right answer to that?
I said, “That would mean that I had Ben.”
And Vaisey said, “He’s quite tall.”
I said, “I KNOW he’s quite tall. Tallness isn’t everything.”
Jo said, “You can say that again. Don’t you like Ben?”
I said, “I don’t know.”
Then, as if he had heard us, Ben turned round and looked at me. Then he turned back and said something to Jack.
Oh God. Perhaps he was doing the same. Perhaps he was saying stuff about me.
I wanted to run away.
When we got to the cinema the boys paid for the tickets and we went into the dark. Phil chose a row of seats about middle way up. I could see there was a snoggers’ row at the back. At least Phil hadn’t chosen that row.
He went first and said to Jo, “Why don’t you sit next to me, in case I get fwightened?”
Jo giggled in a girlish, slightly hysterical way that I had never heard before. I hoped she wasn’t going to turn from a rufty-tufty girl into an idiot.
Then Jack sat a couple of seats away from Jo and smiled at Vaisey. He patted the empty seat next to him.
So, that left me and Ben.
But Ben didn’t move.
Should I go and sit down? Or run out of the cinema?
Maybe he would run out of the cinema.
Or maybe go and sit miles away from me because he was so alarmed by my knees.
Perhaps if I fainted and—
Then Ben said, “Tallulah, why don’t you go in first? And then I can protect you.”
I hadn’t heard him speak before and his voice was a bit croaky.
I smiled and shook my hair and we went and sat down.
What was he going to be protecting me from?
A violent ice-cream lady?
Then the film began. Night of the Vampire Bats was very . . . what’s the right word? Batty. I wasn’t really watching it because I was so tense, I thought I might be sick. That would be attractive.
Ben was silent, and I daren’t catch his eye. I just held my head rigidly forward.
What was everyone else doing? I swiveled my eyes as far as they would go without moving my neck and could sort of see Phil and Jo in the flickering half-light.
I think Phil might have had his arm around Jo. But it could have been someone’s leg from the row behind. I couldn’t see Jack and Vaisey’s arms, but they could have been doing secret handy-holding.
Ben had his arm on the armrest so I kept my hands in my lap. Should I move one hand closer to him so that it was more easily accessible?
D
id I want him to hold my hand?
I didn’t know.
What I did know was that I didn’t want him to not want to hold my hand. If you see what I mean.
Halfway through the film and still nothing had happened. If I didn’t move my neck soon it would snap off.
Ben leaned toward me and said something so softly I couldn’t hear him.
I whispered back, “Sorry, what did you say?”
And I thought he said, “Do you want a squeeze?”
A squeeze.
Nobody had mentioned that to me before.
Was a squeeze the same as a hug?
Because hugging was what you did to teddies, not girlfriends, wasn’t it?
I could sense him waiting for me to reply, so I said very quietly in his ear, or where I thought his ear might be under his floppy hair, “I don’t think I know you well enough.”
And then he said a bit more loudly, “They’re still in the bag, I haven’t touched them.”
Pardon?
And he held out a bag of Maltesers.
Did I want a Malteser.
I don’t know you well enough.
Oh goodie! Now he knows I’m tall and an idiot.
The cinema experience was the longest, tensest hour and a half of my life, so far.
When at last we came out of the cinema, we got chips and walked across to the bus stop to eat them. Because we were all holding the bags everyone’s hands were in full sight. So there was no arm-around business going on.
When the bus came, Mary Bottomly in the headscarf and Wellingtons was driving. She had her headscarf on underneath her official cap. And she didn’t have a smiley jolly bus-driver face.
Phil led the way to the back of the bus and sat down in the window seat.
We followed him and when we got to the back seat, Phil said, “Whey hey hey,” and pulled Jo down onto his knee. For once, she was speechless and just sat there like a mad doll.
I didn’t know what to say or where to sit.
Vaisey and Jack sat down next to each other and Jack started showing her his harmonica. To my amazement, she looked “interested.” Maybe that is what you had to do, look interested when boys talked. Even about harmonicas.
So that leaves me.
With Ben.
Ben was easy to talk to—if you like talking about what type of running shoes are best for cross-country. It was quite relaxing, just half listening to him.
Withering Tights with Bonus Material Page 9