Then I saw a horrible sight.
Eccles and Dil were sitting on the church wall. Stuffing crisps into their mouths and looking at me. Beverley might be on a hunger strike, but it looks like they’re eating for her. They got up and started walking away, looking back at me.
Eccles yelled out, “Are you not gone yet, lanky loser?”
And Dil said, “Yeah, we’re watching you.”
And she did that pointing at her eyes and then pointing her fingers at me.
Charming.
In the kitchen of Dandelion Cottage, Dibdobs had her head in a cupboard.
I said, “Hello.”
And she said from the cupboard, “Hello, Lullah. Nature has many treasures we can use to beautify our lives. At no cost at all!!! Look at this. I’ve attached some copper wire to these and . . . !”
She came out of the cupboard with fir cones dangling from her ears, smiling in an enormously smiley way. She said, “Fir-cone earrings!!! Paint them with a bit of silver and voilà . . . I don’t think I’d feel out of place at the palace!!”
The twins came out of the cupboard.
I managed to get to my room by first of all saying how marvelous the twins’ new leaf hats were and then that I had homework to do.
I lay down on my squirrel bed and tucked a squirrel slipper beside me. Then I got out my Darkly Demanding Damson Diary.
Aha. Here are the early sketches and notes for Sugar Plum Bikey ballet. I still think it was a good idea. Oh and here’s an early drawing of a Labradad: half Labrador, half dad. A dad who fetches sticks, etc.
Then some poems about Alex. Aaaah, Alex the Good.
Ooooh and a letter I wrote to him but never sent.
And here’s the poem from Cain. I should tear it up really.
I will in a bit. I’m only keeping it because it’s so stupid.
I’m not looking at it now anyway.
The Beast.
It looks like it’s been written with a hoof.
Beasty hoof.
And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind . . .
Yeah, well, I’m not blind and Cupid can bog off.
Anyway, Cain’s probably going to be blown to smithereens by Mrs. Bottomly any minute. That’s his lookout.
I’m not thinking about him anymore . . . him with his unexpected snogging and his hard lips so unexpectedly soft and the way he looked into my . . . no, no, no.
That is it.
I’m going to do my homework. Right, I’m opening the envelope from Sidone.
Girls, my girls,
Start to explore your feelings through Art and Theater. Get used to tapping into your Inner You-ness. The You that makes you you-nique. Access your feelings and bring them to the surface.
How do we do this? How do we share this inner world with our audience?
Well, some examples:
Are you happy? Happy to be back at Dother Hall? Feeling full of creative juices? Of course you are. Why not experiment with colored scarves or tambourines?
Or maybe you are angry. Frustrated by a world that is disinterested in art and artists. I myself often do an expressive stamping dance. To let my feelings free. I growl or shake my hair about angrily. You may feel like swishing your hair about. You need accompaniment. Choose an unusual instrument to pluck.
A comb perhaps?
And so on.
That’s the bit, isn’t it?
The “and so on” bit. That’s when you’re on your own.
Right, I’m going to express what I am feeling.
What am I feeling?
The wind is whining in the trees. I’m sitting in bed with a squirrel slipper and Little Lullah and Little Ruby have left me.
I’m feeling lonely. Yeah, lonely.
Lone-lee.
So how shall I express that physically?
I’ll stand up and slouch around in a lonely way. Slouch slouch. Yeah.
Yeah, dragging my feet, good.
Sighing.
But I’m also feeling angry. Angry that Dr. Lightowler hates me for no reason. Angry that the owls have left me. Angry that the Bottomlys have sent me a threatening letter.
Anger-ee.
Saying it out loud is quite good.
“Lone-lee.”
“Anger-ee.”
It’s got a rhythm to it. Maybe I could do a sort of rap song. About anger and loneliness but . . .
But the twist is—the words are about owlets, but it’s really about Dr. Lightowler and the Bottomlys. I’m not going to think too much. I’m going to pace about and bang stuff like rappers do.
Right, I’m pacing.
Up to the door, back to the window, up to the door, back to the . . .
Ow. I’ve just banged my toe on the bed leg. It’s making me quite angry actually. Because I can only do about four paces before I bump into something wooden.
I want to hit something.
I’m going to hit something. I’m banging a squirrel slipper on the dressing table. Yeah! It feels good.
Right, I’m pacing, pacing and banging the slipper on the bed end. Now on the wardrobe door. Yeah yeah!! I’m stepping up the rhythm now, pacing and banging anything I pass. Pace, pace, bang, bang.
Bang the windowsill.
Bang the door.
Bang the bedhead.
Bang the lamp . . . oh damn . . . pick up the lamp.
It’s about owlets leaving and not even bothering to say good-bye after all I’ve done for them. Here we go:
Oh yeah
Everything leaves
Oh yes uh
(bang bang)
Without warning
Oh yes uh
(bang bang)
Squeaks from a beak
Crunch in a cheek
Mouse gone
Owl gone
Oh yes uh
(bang bang)
Everything goes
Oh yes uh
(bang bang)
Without warning
Not even in the morning
Rastafari
Uh.
I wrote it down quickly in my Darkly Demanding Damson Diary. It looks quite cool. But why have I turned into a Rastafarian at the end?
It was swishing my hair around that did it. I think I was imagining dreadlocks. Maybe that’s what Monty means about finding your Inner Maleness.
Maybe I have an Inner Rastafarian Bloke.
I think Blaise will get my rap, though. At least she likes me. Well, she thinks I’m unusual.
The wind had gathered, the temperature had dropped, and it felt like snow was on its way. Brrr.
I got into my snugly squirrel bed and put my feet on the hot-water bottle that Dibdobs brought me. It’s got a knitted jacket on it. Mr. Dobbins made it at his men’s knitting circle. And I do mean a jacket. With a collar and buttons.
I bet he’ll be able to help me a lot with our Taming of the Shrew—he’s constantly talking about his Inner Woman.
I still felt a bit chilly so I put my squirrel slippers on in bed for extra warmlies.
Then something thudded against my window. Maybe it’s a branch blown off by the wind. Or . . . no . . .
It had better not be Cain up to his old tricks!
I flung back my curtains and opened one of my windows to the chill night air. There on the windowsill was Little Lullah!
Or maybe Ruby?
No, it was deffo Lullah because her legs were so long and gangly.
I felt tears prick my eyes as I looked at her. Her owly yellow eyes were staring and blinking back at me. Oh, oh, she’d come to see me!! Because she loves me. I hope she didn’t hear the rap song.
I said, “Lullah, it’s me, your big owly friend. You remember me; I give you nice mice snacks.”
She raised her lower eyelids and fluffed out her feathers. “Woooooo.”
I felt so proud. She was wooing at me.
I said, “Wooo to youuuuu tooo. I didn’t mean it about the rap song; it was about other owlets, not you.” And I went to kiss the to
p of her head.
It must have startled her to see a big head coming towards her because she fell straight off the windowsill backwards into the garden.
I peered down into the gloom. My God, had I killed my offspring? But then I saw her flutter upwards. And immediately crash into the dustbin. She took off again and this time went straight into the garden shed. Finally she swooped off into the woods. I could see her bobbing up and down and crashing to the ground until it was too dark to see her anymore.
I shivered and shut the window. At least an owlet loves me. In its owly way.
Or perhaps she thinks I’m the Big Owl in the Sky and have some dead mice to give her. To be honest, she must be starving by now if her flying skills are anything to go by. The mice probably just sit in little mouse deck chairs, watching her hopelessly swooping around, crashing into things. I felt even more guilty about the rap song now.
Boy Ambush
NEXT MORNING, WHEN I turned the tap on in the bathroom, it sort of started coughing. And making gurgling noises. But not giving me any water.
Dibdobs was passing the bathroom door with a lunatic twin under each arm. She looked harassed, but still smiling. “Morning, Lullah dear. I’m afraid the water has frozen in the pipes so we’re going to fill a bath in front of the fire downstairs, aren’t we, boys?”
Sam said from upside down, “Wiv Micky.”
Dibdobs said, still laughing, “Well, no, Sam, tortoises don’t like baths.”
Max joined in. “Dicky is liking barf, lady.”
Dibdobs was getting a bit stern, the end of her nose had gone red. She gripped the boys more firmly round the pajama-bottom area and said, “Now then, hippity skippity bobbit, off to the bath!”
Both of the twins said, “Wiv the Mickys!”
As she struggled off down the stairs, the twins were quacking loudly.
Do they think tortoises quack? Perhaps tortoises do. I’ve never heard one, but they might do it in their shell in their private time.
I went back to my room and Harold popped his head round the door.
“Well, good morning, Tallulah. I’ve brought you some hot water in a jug and an old basin that you can use to scoop it over yourself. I’ve used the same method at my Iron Man group when we went on our excursion to Scunthorpe. Marvelous simple times. In the evenings we sang round the fire and did a bit of knitting. That’s when I knitted your hot-water bottle jacket. You see, there is a vast untapped well of womanliness inside every man.” He went away, chuckling to himself.
It was freezing in Dother Hall. The Tree Sisters looked very bulky—because they had most of their clothes on. I said, “Wow, are you that cold?”
Flossie said, “Let’s just say that I’ve got two pairs of pajamas on underneath my joggers and top. We all have. The roof is a piece of tarpaulin.”
Vaisey said, “The plastic wrap on the dorm windows doesn’t keep the wind out.”
Jo said, “I think my head has gone numb.”
The whole of Dother Hall was shivering and complaining. Gudrun was wearing a coat made out of hamster skins. Or maybe mice.
We went into the dance studio first thing. I hadn’t seen Blaise Fox so far. It would be nice to see her.
Jo said, “I’m not taking anything off for dance class, and anyway I can’t move my legs.”
Blaise Fox strode in, wearing a ski suit, yelling, “Good morning, sensation seekers. This afternoon you’ll show me your works of genius but for now let’s go for the burn!!! I’ve got my big drum—let’s get moving!!!”
To warm up we had to be horses. Trotting round the hall. Then light cantering. The drum got quicker as we did galloping, slower as we did “dressage,” then back to banging and pauses as we did galloping again. For the horse finale we did the Grand National and Blaise shouted, “And OVER the hedge!!!” leaping.
Then we did the Grand National again as different animals. Blaise shouted out, “Cows!! Run run LEAP over the hedge. Moooooo-ve, girls. Hahahahahaha! Now then, it’s the ferrets! Scamper scamper scamper and OVER the hedge!!”
Flossie pretended her ferret couldn’t get over the hedge and had fainted. Blaise shouted, “Come on, you ferrets, help your furry pal over the hedge!!”
So we had to gather round and try to pick up Flossie. And try to get her over the imaginary hedge. It certainly made us warm.
Finally, as the bell rang and we were almost on our knees with exhaustion, Blaise shouted, “Last round . . . stroppy teenagers. Leaping over the hedge!!!”
So we all ended up stamping about, refusing to get over the hedge and storming around and complaining that it wasn’t fair. Blaise said we were “terrifyingly lifelike.”
Jo turned into a madwoman at lunchtime. She was yelling, “Come on, come on, stop tarting around! Let’s get to the tree.” Pushing us out of the loos quite violently.
Vaisey said to me, “Gosh, I’m excited about seeing the boys. Are you excited about seeing them? Well, especially Charlie, Lullah?”
I said, “Yeah, it’ll be nice to see him, because he’s, er, a nice mate, isn’t he?”
Vaisey said, “I think he’s more than nice. I think he’s yummy. Do you think he’s yummy? Do you think about Charlie? Did you think about him in the holidays? You like him better than Batboy, don’t you? He says quite funny things to you, doesn’t he? He said, ‘Praise the knees.’” And she started giggling and waggling her curls about.
She was right; he pretends he’s a knee worshipper, which makes me feel quite nice.
We put our coats on and left through the front doors. Everyone else is huddling round the radiators, which is a bit pointless as they aren’t on.
We trudged along through the woods in the cold. As we passed the big oak tree, Jo said, “I’m going to be quite standoffish with Phil at first to teach him a lesson. He was the one who got himself sent back to ordinary school for being too good and that split us up. I think a cool approach will teach him some respect and—”
Phil crashed down onto Jo from a branch above us. They rolled and shrieked around. Then out from behind another tree popped Jack and Ben. Vaisey went bright red when she saw Jack and waved at him. He waved back.
Flossie put her hands on her hips and shouted in her Southern belle way, “Mr. Goddam Jack and Mr. Goddam Ben. Why, I do declare, you were hiding yourselves away behind that tree and you so goddam handsome and all!”
Where does she get all this stuff from?
Jo yelled from underneath Phil, “Group hug! Group hug!”
Flossie dived onto my back and I fell on top of Phil, and who knows what was happening above me. I couldn’t breathe because of Flossie and I couldn’t see anything. Ben’s voice said, “Hello, Flossie, like, really nice to see you. You know?”
I brushed Flossie’s hair out of my face and another voice said, “Aha, I see the woodland games have begun. Let us in!!!”
It was Charlie! I felt an uuumph as he dived on top of us. He shouted from above me, “Aha!!! We are back and this time . . . we . . . are NOT serious!!! Yeeha!!!”
After a couple of minutes of having all the breath in my body squeezed out of me, Jo shouted, “Get off—my head is popping!!”
We untangled and I tried to pull bits of hair out of my mouth. Flossie pulled me onto a log and yelled, “Log time!!!”
Charlie sat next to me and smiled. I smiled back but looked away quickly. I was almost shaking and felt my face going red. Phil pulled Jo onto his knee and said, “Come here, little Miss Dynamite Nutcase,” and started jogging her up and down like a little horsey. He was saying, “A joggity-joggity-jog.”
She said, “Phil, stop jogging me up and down, otherwise I will have to hurt you!”
“. . . a joggity-joggity-joggity . . .”
Jo started wrestling with Phil, which turned into snogging, and they fell off the log. Flossie went over to Ben who was staring at her, but I stayed still. So did Charlie.
So then I couldn’t get up because it would look like I’d noticed that I was sitting next to
him. Charlie said to me, “It’s nice to see young people enjoy themselves, isn’t it, Lullah?”
Flossie had Ben pinned against a tree trunk and was making him try her glasses on. Charlie said, “He looks terrified but really pleased.”
I said, “That’s the kind of effect that Flossie has on people.”
Charlie said, “I’ve got snacks.” And he offered me a crisp.
Sitting next to him and chewing was making me so tense I could feel my legs twitching. Was I chewing too loudly?
I’ll do really gentle, quiet chewing. That’s it. Slight chew, no crunching, pause and . . .
At this rate it was going to take me a week to get through one cheese and onion crisp. I should say something normal to Charlie . . . about a show I’d seen or something. Yes. That’s the ticket. A show.
I haven’t seen any shows.
Jack and Vaisey were humming little tunes together, and now and again Jack would drum with sticks on a tree and Vaisey would nod along. It was quite a good rhythm. . . .
No!!! I am not doing alfresco Irish dancing and that is a fact. So before my legs got any funny ideas I blurted out to Charlie, “Did you have fun in your holidays?”
Then I thought, Oh no, he’ll think I’m asking about his girlfriend. So before he could think that I went on. “I did. I had great fun. I had loads of laughs, loads. In fact, I pretty much didn’t stop laughing all holiday. I stayed with my cousin Georgia and she’s a laugh, such a laugh, and then her Ace Gang came round and we had, you know, a . . .”
Charlie said, “Laugh?”
And he smiled at me.
A proper light-up-your-whole-face smile.
He said, “Tallulah, I meant what I said last term about thinking you’re a really great girl and . . .” And then the others came and pushed us off the log in a surprise attack.