by Nette Hilton
“Don’t you worry, Miss D’Lila LaRue.” Nanny squished another chocolate. “I expect we shall have to keep our eyes open and our wits about us. And that’s what we’ll do.”
D’Lila wasn’t sure what a wit was but she would keep her eyes open to make sure she didn’t miss them when they arrived.
Getting up very early was a worry. By the time they went to bed, D’Lila’s eyes were already practising getting up. Every time she shut them, they opened again to check that it was not late.
Every single time.
“Oh BOTHER!” she said loudly enough so that Nanny-Anny might wake up and come to check on her.
Nanny didn’t.
D’Lila tried again. She closed her eyes and ZIP, just like that, they opened.
Nanny-Anny’s soft snores were reaching down the hall. There was nothing else to be done other than fetching a torch and setting off, all the way along the hall, in the dark, where there might be MONSTERS for goodness sake. But she had to let Nanny know about the opening-eyes problem.
She crept along until she reached Nanny’s room and climbed up onto the bed. Nanny made a little oof sound but stayed asleep.
Gently, with just two fingers pressed together, D’Lila lifted Nanny-Anny’s eyelid. The torch shone a bright light and, just like that, Nanny was sitting up.
“What?” she said. “Whatever is going on?”
D’Lila told her all about the eye-not-shutting problem and how it was such a big worry that she might not be able to wake up in time for The Jungle Book at the City Theatre. So it was probably best if they stayed up all night.
Nanny said, “DEFINITELY NOT!” and wrapped a snug rug around herself and marched D’Lila down the hall, no monsters now, and tucked the blankets into a doughnut shape with D’Lila in the middle.
“One warm milk coming up and then,” Nanny yawned, “back to sleep.”
D’Lila could have said that she hadn’t been asleep AT ALL but hot milk sounded nice, especially if it had cocoa in it, so she simply snuggled down to wait. And . . .
She woke up in Nanny’s bed.
And it was morning and the sun was warming a little spot on the edge of the mat, which meant it was still very early.
Nanny’s bed?
How did that happen?
“Why am I here?” D’Lila searched around for her slippers and dressing gown and all the things that might have meant that she’d got herself ready to come and wake Nanny.
Nothing.
“How did I get here?” Gently, she lifted Nanny’s eyelid. No need for a torch this time. “Did you carry me?”
“Not this time, D’Lila LaRue.” Nanny rubbed sleep from her eyes. “This time you got here all by yourself. You sleepwalked all the way out of your bed and along into mine.”
Sleepwalked?
As if.
“I don’t think so.” D’Lila was sure she’d know. “Are you sure? Were my eyes closed?”
“They certainly were.” The blankets were straightened as the bed was made and morning begun. “With your arms held out so you wouldn’t bump anything and there you have it. Sleepwalked!”
D’Lila had a little practice. Arms up, eyes closed.
“Now, now, now Miss Sleepwalker LaRue! We’re off to the city on an 839 or a 431 or a 262.” Nanny flapped her hands. “Or something like that! We’ll just keep our eyes open–”
“And our wits about us,” D’Lila sang as she skipped down for breakfast.
“Oh dear,” Nanny said when they finally arrived at the bus shelter. “There do seem to be a lot of buses to choose from.”
There certainly was.
The buses drove by in such a galloping rush they were gone before there was any time to read numbers or letters.
Nanny-Anny pressed her way through the gathering crowd to read a sign. “It says here that when we see an 839 or a 431 or a 262, we have to hail the driver.”
D’Lila stopped. “What?”
Hail the driver?
Hail?
“We don’t do that on the 477.”
“That’s because the driver knows us,” Nanny said and pointed to a sign that was covered in letters and numbers and red scribble left by someone WHO SHOULD HAVE KNOWN BETTER. “The sign says ‘HAIL THE DRIVER’!” She jumped back as another bus whooshed by. “It means wave until they stop.”
D’Lila had a little practice. A bus slowed down but then, when she put her hand in her pocket and smiled at the driver, away it went.
“Oh dear,” said Nanny. “Perhaps best not to wave and smile too much.” She popped a peppermint into each of their mouths.
Buses went by so fast D’Lila only had time to read the first number. She HAILED THE DRIVER but he said that just because it had 8 at the beginning didn’t mean it was going to go to the city.
Nanny said that they were sorry to have made a mistake but he should REMEMBER HIS MANNERS please.
“Maybe we’ll look for the ones that have a big capital ‘C’ on them.” Nanny suggested when the numbers flashed by too fast to read. “That will mean they’re going to the CITY.”
D’Lila looked.
She knew what a capital “C” was and she certainly had her hand up and ready when the next capital “C” bus came along. She jumped up and waved and bounced and HAILED THE DRIVER and the bus stopped.
SUDDENLY.
“Whatever is the matter, little girl?” The bus driver didn’t look happy.
Neither did the passengers. They were all a bit shuffled about as if they might not have been holding on tight.
“Going to the city?” asked Nanny-Anny.
The bus driver said “No” in a weary voice and closed the doors and drove off.
“Perhaps a smaller ‘hail-the-driver’ next time,” said Nanny.
The morning was getting away on them and still they were on the footpath, by the bus shelter, waiting for a bus that would take them to the Central City Shopping Centre and the City Theatre.
“Gracious me,” said Nanny when another bus sped by. “We shall still be here at midnight if our bus doesn’t come along soon.”
She’d no sooner said it than a bus, with a very high front and ENORMOUS windows that went right up to the roof, came over the hill.
It had 839 written in huge numbers right across its forehead.
Nanny waved and D’Lila bounced and about one hundred people scrambled forwards ready to climb aboard.
D’Lila and Nanny were bundled along with them.
“Hold tight,” said Nanny. There certainly were a lot of bags and skirts and trousers and coats and scarves and all sorts of buggies clambering for a spot. “Don’t let go.”
D’Lila didn’t.
She held tight to Nanny and the silver rail on the side of the bus and and SHE DIDN’T LET GO. Passengers were starting to push hard and try to get past.
“Come on, little girl. Let go.”
As if.
There’d be no letting go until Nanny had safely climbed on board and they had a place to sit.
“Oh, for pity’s sake!” A cross-looking woman in the front seat stood up. “Sit yourselves here!” And with that she took off along the aisle and settled herself in another seat further back, muttering things about rude little girls and funny old ladies.
Nanny-Anny popped another peppermint in each of their mouths just as D’Lila turned around to find the rude little girl and the funny old lady.
“I didn’t see them,” she said as they settled in the rather high front seat. “Did you, Nanny-Anny?”
“I most certainly did not.”
The bus doors closed with a whispery sound and they pulled away from the kerb.
They were so high up they could see over the top of all the cars. It was soooo exciting.
They could see over front fences and into houses. They could see dogs in utes who had to look up to bark at them as they sped by. They could see bridges and traffic lights and roads that whooshed, whooshed, whooshed up hills ahead of them.
A
nd, before they knew it, they could see the road whoosh, whoosh, whoosh downhill to a tunnel that waited at the bottom.
“Oh, my goodness.” Nanny-Anny’s eyes were wide open as the bus sped closer to the tunnel. “That tunnel looks a bit small for our big bus.”
It certainly did but the bus driver didn’t seem worried and kept his foot on the accelerator. The bus galloped on.
Closer and closer.
D’Lila, who was pretty sure she could spot a mistake before one was about to be made, held tight to Nanny.
“We won’t fit!” she yelled. “EVERYBODY DUCK DOWN!”
A lot of people did but the bus driver didn’t. He used his microphone to tell everyone to sit back up, that the bus was never going to hit and some children need to be seen and NOT HEARD.
D’Lila checked to see who the other children were but Nanny-Anny turned her around and told her not to worry.
“The city is on the other side of this tunnel,” she said and popped a few more peppermints out of their box so they’d have something to chew while they waited for their stop.
“Keep your eyes open,” Nanny said when they’d finally slowed into the curving streets that led to City Central. “We have to make sure we ring the bell when we want the bus to stop and let us off.”
“Does everyone have to ring the bell?” D’Lila said.
There were lots of people on the bus.
“Everyone,” said Nanny.
D’Lila looked around the bus.
Some people were reading and some had their eyes closed. Some had earphones in and weren’t taking any notice at all of where they were going.
“How will they know?” D’Lila asked. “They’re not looking.”
“I’m sure I don’t know.” Nanny-Anny was busy watching which way they were going. “Bit different when I was a girl. We had conductors.”
Conductors?
“Like in the Sydney Symphony Orchestra?”
There was nobody playing music on this bus.
Nanny-Anny took her eyes away from the road. Just for a second. “It was someone who wore a uniform and rang the bell when people wanted to get off the bus.” She looked back out the window again. “So they didn’t miss their stop.”
“Why don’t we have one on this bus?”
“Well,” Nanny thought a little, “I expect they’re not needed any more.”
As if.
For goodness sake, a bus full of people who missed their stops should never happen. D’Lila LaRue sat up. She saw a man in a suit bend down to collect his bag. He was going to get off. She was sure of it, so she pressed the button firmly.
The bus stopped. IMMEDIATELY.
“Thank you, little girl,” the man said as he scrambled back to his feet and set off down the aisle.
“What a good conductor you are!” Nanny said and settled back into her seat. “See if you can remember our stop.”
D’Lila knew she’d have no trouble doing that. It was much harder guessing it for the others though. Mostly she got it right.
Mostly.
When passengers started picking up and packing up and shuffling their feet it meant they were ready to GO.
Mostly.
Sometimes they were just shuffling to the beat of their earphones or looking for a hanky in their bags.
“They looked like they were getting off,” she tried to tell the bus driver when he stopped to put them off at a stop that was a long way from the shopping centre. “I was only trying to help.”
The bus driver said she was a wicked little child and needed to be taken in hand. Whatever that meant.
Nanny-Anny said bus drivers probably weren’t good at deciding who was wicked or not.
But she was.
So they shared a peppermint lolly while they waited for another bus that would take them all the way to the HUGEST mall in the entire world.
And the City Theatre and, best of all, The Jungle Book and Baloo.
Oh, he was their favourite.
There were THOUSANDS of people rushing and dawdling and drinking coffees. Different songs played in shops and whizzy things flew around and there were tables with books and games and just EVERYTHING.
And it was all happening at once.
“Just enough time, D’Lila LaRue, to grab our few special groceries before we head to the theatre. Watch out you don’t get stepped on.”
D’Lila did.
She climbed onto the front of Nanny’s shopping trolley. It was hard fitting past people who were gossiping in the aisles and standing reading the sides of packages.
D’Lila leaned over. “Excuse me please!” she called in her best voice. “Make room please.”
People did.
Some of them looked a bit startled.
Some of them just looked very hard at her and muttered things about children and manners.
“You’ve done such a good job, we’ve finished our shopping,” Nanny-Anny said when they finally rushed across the street to the theatre. “No time for our lattes though, or our scones with jam and cream.”
And because it was so, she wrapped one strawberry scone in her hanky for later and they set off for the ladies room.
“Don’t want to be wetting our knickers halfway through The Jungle Book,” Nanny-Anny said as they joined the very long queue.
Finally, they arrived at their balcony door. They had just enough time to buy some scorched almonds and a white wine for Nanny, who said she was feeling a little bit ragged, and a small Pretendacino with marshmallows for D’Lila, who was itching to get inside.
There was a lot of shuffling and settling.
They had no sooner sat down than the lights dimmed and the music swelled and the jungle drums beat a soft jungle beat.
Nanny-Anny, who had soothed her ragged feelings and tucked her skirt neatly around her knees, fell asleep.
Sound, sound, sound asleep.
D’Lila was glad she wasn’t tired, even though her eyes were feeling a little bit closey.
D’Lila LaRue sleep though THE JUNGLE BOOK! And Baloo.
As if.
OH! Those drums beat a beat and the dancers slammed their feet down and swirled their skirts and hooted their voices. And the world inside the theatre swayed and rocked and thrummed and hummed along.
Nanny snored a little but nobody noticed. It was sooooooo exciting.
D’Lila’s toes twitched to dance and her knees bobbed and throbbed to jungle tunes. How marvellous to be a dancer. How wonderful to be up there on that stage, close enough to smell those dancers and see that make-up and touch those costumes.
How incredible would that be?
Nanny snoozed on.
D’Lila, who was hoping to join in all that dancing and have someone awake beside her to hold hands and clap and shout, had a rather wonderfully wicked idea.
A wicked idea?
As if.
There was never an idea that could be cruising around in the brain of D’Lila LaRue that was wicked. It was fun though. And nobody at all, no one, no one, no one could be hurt and that was what was most important and if there were CONSEQUENCES . . .
D’Lila almost closed her eyes and lifted her hands ahead of her. She stood up and slowly, slowly moved down the aisle.
The CONSEQUENCES would be worth it.
“Oh look.” A whisper to the right of her. “Oh look at the dear little girl. She’s sleepwalking.”
Another whisper and a gentle pat on her shoulder.
“You mustn’t wake her.” Another voice, a little louder as the music this close to the stage was very LOUD INDEED. “It’s dangerous to wake a sleepwalker.”
It was dangerous being an awake sleepwalker, too, but D’Lila was getting used to it. She could keep her eyes shut, just enough, so she could see the stairs leading up to the stage. She could see enough to find the top step and feel the heat of bright lights on her face. And she could smell the make-up and sweat and mixed perfumes of dancers leaping and twisting around her.
“Pick
her up!” called one.
Up in the air she flew.
“Hold her high.”
“Don’t drop her!”
And a quieter one, who was clutching her close, said, “You’re not a sleepwalker little one, are you?”
D’Lila opened her eyes. She danced a step with a dancer in a zebra suit in the back row.
“Lift those feet! Swing those arms! Howl that jungle howl and DANCE DANCE DANCE!”
The audience was yelling and clapping the beat and D’Lila in the back row strutted and bopped and twisted and jumped and danced up the biggest storm of her entire life.
“And now,” said the quieter one when the stage darkened for the finale, “you better sleepwalk yourself back to your seat.”
D’Lila did, but not before she slipped a rather melty scorched almond into the paw of a pretty zebra.
No one noticed.
No one tried to wake the dear little sleepwalker except Nanny-Anny.
“Oh,” she said as they gathered their belongings and headed out into the bright lights and rush of the busy city street. “What, what, what am I going to do with you, D’Lila, D’Lila, D’Lila LaRue.”
And for a CONSEQUENCE, they only had two almonds each on the way home, and a white wine for Nanny and mug of cocoa for D’Lila when they finally closed the front door and then a quick dinner and into bed early.
“Because,” Nanny said as she turned out the light, “we have to be ready for whatever tomorrow may bring.”
D’Lila LaRue lived in the smallest house with the neatest fence and the rosiest garden in the street.
She lived with her mummy and daddy who were VERY IMPORTANT PEOPLE and that meant they were VERY BUSY and NOT TO BE DISTURBED, especially on Tuesdays. D’Lila wasn’t sure why exactly but it didn’t matter. Nanny-Anny was there. Nanny-Anny was probably very old but, as Nanny liked to say, she was young at heart and that made all the difference.
Nanny was always there, especially on Tuesdays.