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She was interrupted by little snuffling snoring noises from Matilda.
We settled down again.
I said casually in the dark, “Have you … er, heard how Alex, you know your brother … erm, is getting on?”
Ruby said sleepily, “Dun’t start that again. Anyway, I thought you liked that Charlie?”
Ah yes, Charlie. I do like that Charlie.
The boy from Woolfe Academy for naughty boys.
But he was gorgeous. Not naughty.
Well, not very naughty.
Where’s the harm in wiring up your headmaster’s door handle to a minor electrical circuit? As Charlie said, “It was just high spirits, an innocent schoolboy prank.”
Charlie was lovely in every way and had given me my very first proper kiss. It was dreamy but the only thing is he has a girlfriend already.
As I drifted off to sleep next to Ruby, lulled by the rain pattering on the roof, I dreamed of Charlie … Zzz
… I was up on the moorland path behind The Blind Pig. Looking through my Darkly Demanding Damson Diary. I was dressed in a black mini skirt and green tights. Thinking of doing a performance about being a person with corkers, not a silly schoolgirl any more.
Hmmmm, perhaps through the medium of dance I could show the things I’d learned from my wise Cousin Georgia.
How to do sticky eyes and ‘look interested’ when boys do things.
I started wafting my arms from side to side (in my dream, otherwise Ruby would have kicked me out of bed) and sweet music began floating across the moors. So lovely and magical and otherworldly, but somehow familiar.
I looked up into the tree where the music was coming from and …
… there they were, the owlets with tiny electric guitars. Hurrah!
Little Lullah was on rhythm guitar and little Rubes on bass. They were playing Dancing Queen by Abba!
I began to dance more wildly. Drawn by the inescapable rhythms of Sweden, lost in a world of my own.
The owlets turned up their amplifiers. (Not easy when you haven’t got any hands.)
I sang my version of Dancing Queen.
“Friday night and it’s got late
I’m out here without a mate
Got my new green tights on
You can see them from Skipton
They’re in the mood for a dance
And when I get the chaaaance …
I am the dancing queen
My Irish legs have a lovely sheeeen!!!!
Oh yeah, you can dance, you can …”
And I began to spin and kick wildly, I was doing my Irish dancing on a hillock to the cool sounds of The Owlets when … Charlie! There was Charlie!
He smiled his special smile and gave a thumbs-up to the owlets. Then he danced towards me. (In time to the music, but carefully as his lurex flares were quite snug.)
Charlie looked into my eyes and then lowered his lips towards mine. Just as he’d touched my lips with his, he drew back and said (in that weird slow voice like in dreams), “No … I caaan’t … I haaaaave a girlfrieeeeeend.”
And he got a tiny girl out of his pocket. She waved at me.
He left with the tiny girl in his hand and sadness filled my tights. The owlets played a slow version of Dancing Queen on pan-pipes.
But the show must always go on. That’s what Sidone tells us.
I began singing again, even though my heart was breaking.
“I am the dancing queen
My Irish legs have a lovely shhheeeeeen!!”
And someone started whistling along.
Who could this be?
Alex came up the path. In a flouncy shirt!
He danced towards me in time to the music and put his hand to my face. The frills on his sleeve temporarily blinded me. He said in a deep voice, “Hello, Tallulah, you’ve grown up. You are the dancing queen. Your Irish legs have a lovely sheen.”
Then there was a loud growling and Cain’s big black dog bounded out – ridden by Cain.
CHAPTER 2
Lullah’s Lulu-luuuve List
I woke up on Sunday morning to the light pattering of hail on the roof. I feel a bit tired. As if I’ve been dancing to Abba all night.
Rubes and Matilda were snoozing nose to nose at the bottom of the bed. So I quietly crept downstairs and unbolted the door without anyone hearing me. The church bells rang for early morning service as I crossed the village green to the Dobbins’ house.
Dandelion Cottage looked sweet in the early morning hail. The trees in the garden were losing their leaves and a wisp of smoke came from the chimney. There’s some ducks in the garden, but no sign of little Lullah and Ruby. I hope they’re all right.
Would they even know how to build a nest? Could they catch stuff to eat?
I don’t think their mum Connie has really shown them domestic skills. I’ve seen her eat a mouse head first, but I haven’t seen her teach them grooming or home-making. Bit like my mum and dad.
When I opened the unlatched door into the kitchen, Mrs Dobbins looked up from the stove. Wearing a hat covered in dead leaves and brown stuff. She was so pleased to see me she started jumping up and down. And the hugging began immediately. She is very huggy.
“Oh, Tallulah, I have SO missed you!! You darling girl!! You’ve grown AGAIN!! Look at you! You are GORGEOUS. What a shame you’ve just missed the twins and Harold – they’ve gone to church. They’ve got Micky and Dicky with them because it’s Tortoise Sunday. Ooh, we’ve had foraging fun, we found a badger’s set. Thrilling!!! Harold followed the droppings … actually, he brought some home, I’m drying them in the airing cupboard so be careful with your undies. We’re going to make sculptures with them.”
I said, from underneath her arms, “That sounds, er, spiffing.”
Dibdobs kissed me on the hair.
“Oooooh, you smell soooo Tallulah-ish. The twins will be so pleased to see you. Are you coming to church?”
I said, “Er, well, I’d love to but, er, I haven’t got a tortoise.”
Dibdobs said, “The boys would let you hold Micky and Dicky, I’m sure! Or you could take a duck.”
I said quickly, “Ooooh, that would be nice, but I have to, erm, prepare myself for Dother Hall tomorrow. Check my tights and so on.”
“Yes, yes, of course. I understand. Do you like my hat? It’s got dried mushrooms in it.”
I said, “Gosh, yes, it’s spiffing. I’m just going to unpack. Toodle-pips for nowsies.”
Toodle-pips?
I’d turned into Mary Poppins. I don’t know why the Dobbins have that effect on me, but they do.
They are nice though, even if they’re mad. It’s nice to have someone so glad to see you. When I phoned Mum to tell her I’d got here last night, she didn’t even know I’d gone back to college. I said, “But didn’t you think it was odd that I didn’t say anything? Or eat anything?”
She said, “‘Oh no, I just thought you were in one of your quiet moods.”
The Dobbins are not going to be back until teatime because they’re going to play table tennis in Pocklington after church.
I unpacked in my old familiar squirrel room, with its window looking out over the back woods. So many memories there. The last one of Cain leaving me a poem with a knife pinning it to the old oak tree.
Huh.
He needn’t think that writing a bit of a poem makes up for all those other things that I will never, ever be thinking about.
The nose-licking incident for instance or the corker-rubbing thing and the other terrible, terrible thing. That I will never, ever mention, even to myself.
I’ve put my private Darkly Demanding Damson Diary behind a secret panel next to my squirrel bed.
Then I had a hot chocolate and a mooch around downstairs. It looks like the lunatic twins have made a tortoise home for Micky and Dicky behind the sofa.
It can’t be made out of a cabbage, can it?
Yes, it is.
By eleven, the hail had eased off so I got togged up again to look around and see if I could find the owlets. Ruby’s curtains in the attic are still closed so she must be having a little lie-in.
I walked down the back path to the barn. There were no signs of life in there, just the old nest where the owlets had hatched. How sad. I shut the door and walked on past the back field.
The sheep started trying to get into the hedge when they saw me. If I didn’t know for a fact that they are very, very stupid, I would think that they remember me singing ‘The hills are alive with the sound of music’ to them last term.
I thought I’d go down to the river and look for the owlets there. I went to the little bridge, and I can see the path that leads up to Dother Hall. Underneath me is the Heck River. That Beverley threw herself in because of Cain.
Yes, there it is, the mighty Heck River, swollen to twice its depth by the incessant rain. So now it’s four inches deep. What a fool that Beverley is. When she threw herself into the river, she just ruined her frock. The water only came up to her bottom.
I wonder what size her bottom is now after her hunger strike.
Anyway I’m not going to be intimidated by the Bottomley sisters this term. I am, after all, fifteen and not a kid who …
And that’s when I saw them.
The Bottomley sisters.
Well, three of them – Beverley wasn’t with them.
Ecclesiastica, Diligence and Chastity were eating pies. In fact, Chastity had one in each hand. And it wasn’t even lunchtime. They were eating pre-lunch pies.
And I bet they’re having pies for lunch.
When Eccles saw me she said, “Oooh, look, it’s the long dunderwhelp.”
Chas said, with her mouth full, “My mum said she saw you, sitting on blind people on her bus.”
Dil said, “Come on, let’s go, she’s putting me off me pie.”
And they went past me, eating and giving me the evils.
Eccles turned back and said, “Oh, I forgot, our Beverley told me to give you this. So here you are, you lanky idiot.”
And she gave me a grubby bit of paper.
As they lumbered off, Ruby and Matilda came tumbling along. Ruby was out of breath. And Matilda had to have a little lie-down.
“I saw you. I drew me curtains, I was up in my room and I thought, ay up, there’ll be trouble. So we came to your rescue. What did the big daft lasses say?”
“They gave me a note from Beverley.”
Ruby said, “Can she write? Is it a death threat? Give us a look.”
She took the note from me and read it slowly, tutting, and then she said, “That Beverley can’t really do joined-up writing, but I think it says, ‘To the lanky streak of lard’.”
What?
Ruby said, “That’s you, Tallulah.”
“What is?”
“You are the lanky streak of lard.”
“What’s lard?”
“It’s fat made from bits of cow.”
Nice.
She went on. “Then it says, ‘If tha knows what’s good for thee tha’ll shut it and sling yer ’ook.’”
I looked at her as if she was speaking rubbish.
Which she was.
She explained, “Erm, well, in a nutshell it says, ‘Shut up and clear off.’”
Charming.
There was more. Ruby read out, “‘He’s not interested in a bumberskite like you, it’s only because tha threw your sen at ’im and gallivant around like a tit.’”
“When have I ever done that? I don’t even know how to gallivant, let alone like a … and what is a bumberskite?”
Ruby had really got into it now. She went on.
“Yes, he, that’s Cain, isn’t interested in a bumberskite like you. Cain’s not interested in you because you’re like a sort of bum in a skirt.”
“Thank you, Ruby.”
“And secondly, because you threw yourself at him.”
I started going red. This was so awful.
“Threw myself at him? Threw myself at him!!!”
I was getting redder than red, this was a nightmare come true, then Mr Barraclough shouted from the pub, “Ay up, Ruby, it’s nearly dinnertime. Stop prattling with that big lad – next thing you know you’ll be wearing his clown shoes.”
Ruby started pulling on Matilda’s lead. “I’d better go before he sees his socks that Matilda ate.”
Ruby and Matilda tore off towards The Blind Pig.
I looked at the note. I suppose it’s like a threatening letter. I’ve never had one of those before.
What does Beverley know?
She can’t know about the thing that even I have forgotten about.
Can she?
Anyway, I’m not going to be blackmailed by the Bottomleys.
I’ve got my own little gang. The Tree Sisters. Wait till I tell them about the note.
Except that I can’t tell them about the note because then I’d have to tell them about the thing that I can’t remember.
And that even if I could remember I wouldn’t mention it to myself. I’ll keep the letter from Beverley as evidence, in case of an unexpected pie attack by the Bottomleys.
To cheer myself up after the horrid letter, I thought I’d go back and get my Darkly Demanding Damson Diary from its secret hiding place, and look at my ideas and notes from last term.
I calmed down a bit as I looked over all the notes I’d made. Here are my poems and short stories. Ooooh, I’d forgotten about writing The Daughter of Fang.
And here are some sketches for my dance tribute to Withering Tights.
Oh, teehee, here’s a sketch of Dr Lightowler.
In the name of Baby Jesus’s nostrils, she has got ENORMOUS glasses on. Perched on the end of her beak. I don’t know why she’s taken against me so much. Ho hummity hum.
I’ll put Beverley’s letter in my secret hiding place right at the back.
Oooh – here’s the James Bond book that Dad gave me. He said, “Best you learn the real facts of life” and I had read it last term, and re-enacted a corker-holding scene
Talking of corkers, Cousin Georgia said she could certainly see signs of life in my T-shirt when I ran for the bus. And in fact, as a celebration, she bought me a special packet of crisps that are actually called ‘Corkers’. It said on the packet, ‘Hand-cooked in sunflower oil, we’re sure you agree that Corkers are another great British tradition in the making.’
I’ve got Georgia’s Ace Gang ‘snogging scale’ in here somewhere.
I’ve stuck it in on a page right in the middle of my diary underneath a picture of the Dalai Lama. Although the Ace Gang’s snogging scale doesn’t really fit with mine, so far. I’ve written mine on the next page.
It’s called ‘Lullah’s Lulu-luuuve List’.
This is it:
1. Hand resting
(A friend of my brother’s put his hand on my bottom at the bus stop and when I said ‘what are you doing?’, he said his hand was tired and he was resting it.)
2. Corker-holder release
(On the bus, the same boy undid my corker holder. And I had to sit there jiggling about, as the tissues that I’d put in it for extra corker-ness worked their way into my armpits.)
3. Bat kiss
(Floppy Ben from Woolfe Academy kissed me after we went to see ‘Night of the Vampire Bats’ and tried to put his tongue in my mouth. And it felt like a bit in the film when a bat was trapped in someone’s mouth, just barging around.)
4. Nose-licking
(Cain licked a hailstone off my nose. I can’t discuss this.)
5. Proper kiss possibly lasting two minutes, with additional praise for knees
(Boy (Charlie) kissed me really nicely so that I felt wobbly and he also said he liked my knees.)
6. Cain Hinchcliff came up unexpectedly on the moorland path and he … and he … ooooh, proper kiss, lip nibbling and tongues
(Oh Holy Mother of God, bless me for I have sinned. With the Dark Black Crow of Heckmondwhite.)
CHAPTER 3
Return of the lunatic twins
It was already dark when the Dobbins came back.
I was in my squirrel room and heard heavy breathing outside my door.
Dibdobs whispered, “Do you know who’s in there, boys? Shall we knock on the door and see who answers it?”
One of the twins said, “Eth.”
There was knocking near the bottom of my door. I got up and opened it.
The lunatic twins were in their fun-fur hats in the shape of otter heads. And sucking on their dodies. They looked at me and then both grabbed me round the knees and put their heads into my legs. Dibdobs was almost crying at the beauty of it all.
“Ooooh, boys, it’s Lullah, she’s come home!!!”
Max (or Sam) looked up and said, “Ug oo.”
And put his head back in my leg.
Then Sam (or Max) looked up and said, “Ug oo.”
And put his head back down.
Then Max (or Sam) said, “Ug oo.”
This could have gone on for years.
Dibdobs took charge.
“Right, boys, split splot, let’s get your jimmy-jams on and then have our tea with …”
They looked up and said, “Ug oo.”
And put their heads back into my legs.
We managed to prise them off at last and half an hour later Dibdobs called me down to tea.
The boys were in their jimjams now. Still with their otter hats on.
They started shuffling towards me for more knee–hugging, but Dibdobs stepped in firmly and said, “Let Lullah sit down, boys, and have her supper. Lullah, it’s a local supper.”
Max said, “Bogie supper.”
Dibdobs ignored him although she went a bit red. “The eggs are from Jessica and Maureen. Maureen’s the one with the club foot.”
I was just thinking I don’t know any woman with a club foot when I realised she meant Maureen the chicken.
As I ate my supper, the boys stood about an inch away from me, looking at me and sucking. It was very unnerving. They certainly do not get any less odd.
Dibdobs was prattling on.
“So much going on, Tallulah!! I must tell you about …”
At that point Max fell over Micky the tortoise.
Dibdobs laughed and said, “You silly old chap, Max, you just fell over Micky on to your bottom!!!”
The lunatic twins rocked with laughter. It was like being in the House of the Mad.
Max said out of the side of his dodie, “An’ sjuuuge bumbums. Look at my bumbums!!!!”
And he pulled down his pyjama bottoms.
Sam started laughing so much I thought he would choke. And both the boys began yelling, “Bum bum bum bum!”
Dibdobs said, with a fixed smile, “Yes, it is funny, boys, but pull up your jimmies now, that’s enough. You’re BIG boys now, aren’t you, and …”
Then they both started rubbing their bottoms together and shouting, “Bummity bum bum.”
Dibdobs lost her rag and flicked at them with her tea towel. “Boys, boys, that’s not funny.”
I quickly finished off Maureen’s egg and stood up. “Well, that was a lovely supper … I think I’ll turn in now, just do a bit more creative thinking for tomorrow. Night-night.”
As I went up the wooden stairs, I heard Harold come in. The boys were still squealing and Dibdobs yelled, “Now what will your father say???”
Harold’s voice rumbled up as I opened my bedroom door. “Put your bottoms away, boys. I’ve got some live maggots in my pocket.”
When I got into my bed, I flicked through my Darkly Demanding Damson Diary to look at my Lulu-Luuuve List again, and it fell open at the last page.
There was the poem that Cain had pinned to the tree with a knife.
Written in thick untidy writing.
Like he’d got a twig and dipped it in ink.
Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind
And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.
And underneath:
I know tha likes this sort of thing
See thee later.
Did it mean he knew I’d liked kissing him?
Did he even know we’d got to Number 6 on my Lulu-Luuuve List?
No, he couldn’t know that because I’ve just made it up.
I could do with some proper girl company. Thank goodness I’ll see the Tree Sisters tomorrow.
Hurray!! The Tree Sisters together again. Vaisey, Flossie, Jo and me. We used to be five, but Honey, dear lovely Honey, has gone to Hollywood. She’s been, what do you call it? Talent-spotted by an American entrepreneur.
Hey, I’ve just thought of what you’d call it if the owlets had been spotted by an American entrepreneur looking for talent in the bird world.
Talon-spotted!!!!
They’d be talon-spotted!
I’m going to write that down in my diary.
I may turn out to be a comedy genius.
CHAPTER 4
Snogs ahoy!
On Monday morning, I struggled against the wind walking over the bridge to Dother Hall. I’m early so I’ll go and stash my stuff in my locker then find the Tree Sisters. If Bob hasn’t burned the lockers as fuel. I hope the money thing is better than it was last term. Or at least we’ve still got a roof. I dread to think what would have happened if Honey’s manager hadn’t come up trumps with cash to keep Dother Hall going.
I miss Honey. She is sooo Honeyish.
And knows such a lot about boys.
Maybe she’ll come back and visit. Or we could visit her!
Yarooo, I feel like a real performing artist. I am one of an elite gang of ‘entertainers’ our sole purpose in life is to give give give of ourselves.
My only worry is that I’m not sure I’ve anything to give.
The rest of the Tree Sisters have special talents. Vaisey can sing and dance and act and Jo can sing and act and Flossie can sing and act and she’s really great at art. And Honey is so good at everything that she’s been taken to Hollywood to be in films, and then there’s me.