Then I heard Jack say the word “guitar.” And Vaisey’s head started nodding in agreement and she was talking as well. Must be about music.
How sweet. I think Jack’s a bit shy, but I think he likes Vaisey. Then they started singing together and Jack was making a drumming rhythm on his knees.
Phil was now tickling Jo, who was going mental. And screeching. So much so that Mrs. Bottomly, the driver, yelled back, “Oy, stop playing silly beggars. This is a bloody bus, not a Mardi Gras!!”
Oooh, now Ben is telling me about how he does pull-ups because he’s a bit weak in the upper arm. And apparently upper-arm strength is a big plus when you want to join the navy. And he does want to join the navy.
He said, “When we do our cross-country runs I put bricks in my rucksack.”
Just to be nice, I said, “Crikey.”
The boys didn’t get off at their stop because Phil said, “We’ll escort you ladeez to your homes in case of carriages going by and sloshing your evening gowns.”
What is he talking about?
Phil said, “We’ve been doing Jane Austen at Woolfe, so we can get inside the female mind.”
I said, “What is inside our female minds, then?”
Phil said, “Well, for instance, should one of you want to climb up a staircase on the way home, we lads would have the training to quickly get behind you and walk up the stairs, bracing ourselves.”
I said, “Bracing yourselves for what?”
Phil winked. “Aaaa, bracing ourselves for the moment when you lost your footing, or fainted, and then we could catch you, saving you from injury.”
I said, “Why would we faint?”
And Phil said, “You might be startled by bats.”
And everyone laughed.
We said “good night” to the bus-driver woman as we got off.
And she said, “Is it?”
I don’t think she likes people, as such.
As the bus careered into the distance, there was a bit of an awkward silence.
We were all still standing by the bus stop.
So I said to everyone, “Well, I’m off to my squirrel room. Thanks for the cinema, and the, um, Maltesers. It’s been, um, quite smashing.”
And I set off for the Dobbinses’.
I’d gone a few yards when Ben came after me. “I’ll walk you to your gate, Tallulah.”
He looked up from under his floppy fringe and said, “I had a nice night, it was really interesting talking to you.”
There was more silence as we crossed the village green, so I said, “Um, do you like theater as well as running and so on? Like we do at Dother Hall?”
He looked at me like I had spoken in ancient bee language. And repeated, “Theater . . .”
I said, to lighten the moment, “Ms. Beaver says it’s a harsh mistress and your feet bleed before you put on the golden slippers of applau—”
And I’d just got to “applause” when he put his hand on my shoulder and turned me round to face him.
I was about to take a piece of hair out of my mouth, because as he spun me round my hair went a bit wild. But he lunged at me, mouthfirst.
He put the whole of his mouth on mine. My eyes were open so I could see that he had his closed. His mouth seemed very big. In fact, I felt like I was being eaten. Even though no chewing was going on.
I had to breathe through my nose because he was blocking my mouth.
Then I felt a little proddy thing going in between my lips like it was trying to prise them open. Was there still a bit of hair in there?
Or maybe he had trapped his fringe.
It was very floppy and . . .
My goodness, it must be his tongue.
What was I supposed to do?
The prodding was still going on. I had my teeth together because I was so tense.
The little jabby tongue thing started working its way along my toothline.
It prodded at the side of my mouth, which was tickly, actually.
I don’t think laughing would go down well, though.
In fact, it was like being in Night of the Vampire Bats. There was a bit in the film where a bat flew into someone’s mouth, and you could see it barging around inside because the cheeks kept bulging out, and the bat’s little head popped out now and then.
Perhaps I should move my lips a bit.
Or perhaps now was the time to turn my head away and look through the window and say, “Not now,” in a low voice. Except that there wasn’t a window and . . .
Then he just stopped and said, “Er, sorry, about that, erm . . . well, good night.” And he held out his hand.
I had had my arms by my side for the whole time and I put my hand up automatically.
And he shook it.
Then the worst thing happened. Well, another worst thing happened. Cain came round the corner. With a dead fox in his hand. He’d probably killed it for a little snack. He looked at us from under his black hair. I think he might have black eyes as well. And he was dressed all in black. He just stopped and looked at us, twirling the dead fox.
Ben said, a bit nervously, I thought, “Well, I’ll, er . . . see you around, Tallulah.”
Cain just looked at him and said as he went off, “Ay, off you go, garyboy. Dunt make me leery because things might get a bit gory.”
What did that mean?
Then he looked at me. Just looked. I didn’t know what to do.
He looked me slowly up and down and then half smiled, but not in a jolly “ooooh what a laugh everything is” way. It was sort of spooky.
He turned to go off down the lane, but looked back and said, “Now we’re evens. Tha’s caught me snogging and now I’ve caught thee snogging.”
I never seem to know what to say to Cain.
I said, “I wasn’t snogging.”
And he said, “No, and you weren’t cleaning your windows either.”
As he walked off twirling his fox, I thought, next time I’ll think of something really clever to say to him.
The Dobbinses were in the kitchen when I went in. But the twins were in bed so I was saved the staring interlude.
Harold was in an “interested” mood and he asked me about the film.
“What was the genre?”
I said, “Um, bats mostly.”
Harold loved bats, unfortunately.
I knew that because he got his pipe out.
Which, incidentally, he never lights, he just sucks it and points with it.
“Most fascinating creatures . . . I think I may have a stuffed one in a drawer.”
Never mind the bats, I have had my first kiss. From a boy.
I escaped from the bat chamber into my squirrel room where I lay down on my bed next to my squirrel slippers and gave them a little hug. It was a full moon and I heard an owl hooting. Probably Connie, hanging about waiting for the birth of her owl twins. Eating rodents to keep her mind off motherhood.
I feel somehow changed.
Not like a werewolf. Fur isn’t growing on the back of my hands. Although it might be growing under my armpits, at last.
I am no longer a child. My corkers are emerging, and I’ve had my first kiss.
I’ve had my first taste of bat—I mean romance.
As a mark of my new being, I put the squirrel slippers on the floor.
I will no longer have cuddly-toy type things near me.
Whooo-hoo-oooo
VAISEY WAS WAIANG FOR me in the kitchen when I came down next morning.
She was nodding and pretending to be interested in what the twins had made at playschool. Dibdobs said it was a vase. But to me it was a washing-up-liquid bottle cut in half, with what looked like snot all over it.
As I was eating my toast, Vaisey kept raising her eyebrows at me. She said, “We should go, Lullah, we . . . need to get limbered up. ”
Now it was my turn to raise my eyebrows.
She said, “You know, the performance lunchtime thingymajig.”
I said, “The performa
nce lunchtime thingymajig?”
She said, “Yes.”
I said, “Hmm . . . OK.”
Dibdobs said, “Oooo, that sounds interesting, what is it about?”
I said, “Yeah. Good point. What is it about, Vaisey?”
Vaisey looked like she had swallowed a whole shoe. Just then Harold came into the kitchen with a fishing net and wearing thigh-length boots.
“Morning, campers! And what a glorious morning it is. I’m going to take the boys fishing. Come on, Sam and Max, welligogs on and tricycles out!!!”
And he rootled around in the hall cupboard and brought out two wooden tricycles. The boys started making chuffing noises.
Dibdobs smiled. “Oooh, you boys think it’s like Thomas the Tank Engine, but it’s not a train, is it, boys? What is it?”
Sam said, “Sjuuuge.”
Dibdobs was determined that although her boys might look like idiots, they were not going to be calling tricycles trains.
“Yes, it’s a huge . . . tricycle, isn’t it?”
They just went on huffing and tooting.
Then Harold popped back in to say, “Come on, boys, split splot! Look, Daddy’s got his tricycle ready to go as well.”
We looked beyond him into the garden and there it was. His tricycle.
After they had all gone Dibdobs said, “Sorry, girls, you were telling me about your performance, how exciting! What did you say it was about?”
I looked at Vaisey, she looked at me, and I blurted, “It’s a . . . bicycle ballet.”
A bicycle ballet?
Actually it sounded quite good.
Dibdobs said, “A bicycle ballet? Gosh, that sounds good. How does it work? What happens?”
I said, “Well . . . it’s a ballet . . . done on bicycles. Come on, Vaisey, we must go and, er . . . polish our saddles and so on.”
Vaisey said as soon as we got out the door, “So, so, what happened???”
I looked thoughtful.
I was thoughtful.
The trouble is I didn’t know what I thought.
What had happened?
I said, “You go first.”
Vaisey’s hair had gone completely mad. She had not strapped it down under a hat or tied it half to death with a lacky band and it was taking full advantage. Bobbing around. Sticking up on end. She looked like an electrified floor mop.
We ambled up round the village green and toward the bridge to go to Dother Hall.
She said, “Well, in the cinema, we sat down, didn’t we? And it was all dark, and I daren’t look to see what anyone else was doing.”
I said, “I know my eyes nearly fell out trying to look out of the corners. I think that Phil put his arm around Jo.”
Vaisey said, “I think he did.” I said, “I mean, I thought it was his arm, but then I thought it might have been the leg of someone in the row behind, sort of sticking up.”
Vaisey said, “There wasn’t anyone in the row behind. The only people were about three rows back and you would have had to have eight-foot legs to reach—”
Then her gaze sort of drifted to my legs.
I said, “Go on.”
“Well, about halfway through, Jack shifted his legs a bit and one of them brushed against my knee. I looked round at him and he smiled at me.”
Wow. I said, “Yabba dabba dooooo . . . here we go. Then what happened?”
She said, “That was it.”
“OK, well go from the bit when I left.”
Vaisey shook her hair about.
“Well, we all chatted for a bit and then Phil said he would walk Jo home.”
I said, “Oh yes, I see. Walking her home. Leaving you all alone with Jack the smiler.”
I winked at her.
But she didn’t see me, because she had walked in some sheep poo. So I said, “And? When they went, you did a bit more smiling, and then—”
“We talked about stuff.”
“You talked about stuff and then—”
Vaisey looked at me. “He showed me his new plectrum. But said he really wanted to be a drummer.”
“And then he lunged—”
“No, then he said good night, thanks, see you later. Do you think that’s bad? Do you think it means he doesn’t really like me? Except in a musical sense?”
She looked a bit upset and her hair had gone flat. “Anyway, I like him. What happened to you?”
I told her about the kiss thingy.
She looked at me like I was the cat’s pajamas and said, “You have kissed a boy. In person.”
I said, “Yeppity doo dah.”
Vaisey said, “And what was it like?”
I said, “Well, um, it was a bit like being attacked by a jelly, and then having a little bat trapped in your mouth.”
Vaisey said, “Was it nice? Did you like it? Did he like it?”
And I said, “Well, he shook my hand at the end.”
When we arrived at Dother Hall there was a big notice on the board that said:
Summer School girls
Report to the main hall at 10:30 a.m.
For assessment meeting.
Whoops.
This was all getting a bit scary.
We loped in with the others and sat down. Gudrun came onto the stage with a chair and a drum and started beating a rhythm. The lights flashed and I could see Bob half concealed by the side curtains, at control center. Well, the lighting desk. He was crouched over a keyboard, moving dials and waggling stuff like a man possessed. It was only then we recognized they were playing a reggae version of “All Things Bright and Beautiful.”
As the music reached a crescendo, Sidone appeared onstage, dressed in a suit and braces. She stood looking out at us.
Gudrun sidled off backward with her drum as Sidone began to speak.
“Girls, my girls. You have been here now at Dother Hall for nearly two weeks, finding your feet. Although Madame Frances tells me that some of you have two left ones!”
She laughed softly.
We laughed. What were we laughing at? Was she talking about me?
Sidone continued. “Tranquil, mes enfants. Of course you have come here to experiment, to enjoy your art, but as I said, this is no life for the fainthearted. There are no free rides on the people-carrier of Fame.”
Now she looked very serious indeed.
“Some of you will only have a single ticket. For you there will be no return journey.”
Offstage we heard someone fall over a drum and loud swearing.
Sidone paid no heed.
“Next week’s performance lunchtime marks the halfway period of your time here, and it is then that you will receive your assessment mark. This will go toward your final assessment. That is all.”
As she began to walk toward the wings, she spoke again.
“Be alert, keep notebooks, seek out beauty and art where you can. Look around you and remember some of the greatest works of literature were written in these rolling landscapes. Work, work until your feet bleed.”
As we surged out on our way to tap-dancing class, all us summer school girls were jabbering away.
Vaisey said, “I wonder how many of us they keep on? I’ll die if I can’t stay.”
Jo said, “I don’t know what I will do, if I can’t come back.”
Flossie said, “I haven’t even thought what I would do, if I don’t get on.”
Neither had I.
But I was pretty sure I should be thinking. I had a horrible knot in my tummy.
As if the assessment thing wasn’t bad enough, now we had another thing I had never done: tap.
I liked the little shoes we were given, with the tappy bits on. They made a nice noise.
Then Monty arrived. He said, “Madame Frances is indisposed, so I will be taking the tap class. We soldier on.”
Where do men get those far-too-short shorts from? Surely no shop would sell them. He did have long woolly leg warmers on too, but that is not the point.
Some of us who hadn’t done
tap before had to do “shuffle–ball change” to “Bob the Builder” for forty minutes with Monty doing it in front of us.
With actions and lots of shouting.
“No, no, Tallulah. Shuffle, dear, shuffle. Try not to let your knees knock. And lift your arms up, dear. Like so . . . oh, mind Milly’s head . . . are you all right, Milly? Up you get. Stand a bit farther away from Tallulah, she’s longer than she realizes.”
Vaisey, Honey, Jo, Flossie, and the others who could do tap got into a huddle whilst Monty “left them to it.” At the end of the session they did a bit from a show called West Side Story to really fast music, where they were rival gangs having a knife fight while tap-dancing. It was amazing. Really tappy.
I was impressed by my new friends. They can actually do stuff.
At break we walked through the woods to our special tree.
I was dying to ask Jo what had happened with her and Phil.
When we sat down and got out our snacks, I said, “So what happened, then?”
And instead of answering, Jo was bouncing up and down on a tree trunk.
Just bouncing.
I said, “Did he kiss you?”
And she got up and ran around in a circle and then threw herself into a bush.
I said, “Can you just tell us in words what happened?”
And Jo got up onto a tree stump and started belting out, “I did it MYYYYYYYY WAY!!”
In the end, Vaisey and me grabbed hold of her and I said, “Will you tell us what happened?”
She said, “Well, you saw that he sat down and then, you know, said I should sit down, in case he got frightened. And we were sitting there, sort of watching the bats, only I wasn’t really watching the bats because I was too excited. In fact, I think I may have gone momentarily blind. Well, then I felt this thing in the dark. Snaking around my shoulders.”
Honey said, “The thnaking awound thing?’’
Jo said, “Exactly. And it was his arm. At first it was on the back of the seat, but then it sort of snaked round my shoulders.”
Vaisey said, “Tallulah thought it was somebody’s leg.”
Jo said, “What sort of a person would put their leg round your shoulders? In the cinema?”
I said, “It’s only because I was squinty-eyed and couldn’t see properly.”
Jo said, “Anyway, you might not have noticed, but we held hands on the bus.”
Withering Tights with Bonus Material Page 10