I looked down to think of something to say and noticed that the front of my jacket is sticking out. In the corker area.
I wonder if he’s noticed that my corkers have grown.
It’s the kind of thing that Cain would notice.
I don’t want Charlie to think I am deliberately thrusting my corkers at him.
You know, in a girl way. In an “ooooh, look at my corkers” way.
I hunched my shoulders a bit so that if there was any sticking-out going on it would be counterbalanced by my sticking-in-ness. Not too much, though. I don’t want him to think I’ve become a hunchback over the holidays.
Charlie was looking at me. What should I say . . . oooh . . . er . . .
I know what I can do to make the situation more normal, I can use my Inner Man.
Yes, yes, I will use my Inner Man to communicate with Charlie’s Outer Man.
What do men say to each other?
You know, to their mates . . . erm . . .
I said, “Everything all right at home?”
Charlie grinned even more. “Yes, thanks. . . . All well at your end?”
I nodded. “Yes, erm, tickety-boo, thank you.”
Tickety-boo?
Then Charlie said, “Look, it’s really nice talking to you about, you know, ‘home’ and everything, but it’s all a bit prison break at Woolfe because of the Phil incident so . . . I should go back.”
I said, “Yes, yes, sorry to hold you up, it’s just that Jo wanted, you know, to know if Phil is all right.”
Charlie said, “I’ve got a note from the villain himself.” And he handed it to me.
I said, “Oh, she’ll be so happy. Thank you.”
Charlie turned to go. “It’s lovely to see you again, Lullah . . . and, well, I hope I’ll see you a lot more. Bye.” And he gave me a hug.
I flapped my arms against his back. And then gave him a thumbs-up.
I don’t know why.
Maybe I am a man.
Jo was ecstatic to get her note. She read it and said, “I’d tell you what it says, but it’s very personal and private.” We all nodded and were going off when she said, “Oh, go on then, you are my besties. Here’s a bit of what it says, I won’t go into the snogging stuff . . .
“‘Jo, you little wild love bucket, you know I had to climb the fire escape of desire to see you. But then as you also know I sadly fell through the potting shed of life and slightly bent my l—’”
Then Jo started giggling uncontrollably and said, “No, no, I can’t tell you that bit, but this is the last thing . . . ‘I’m confined to my room and under constant surveillance. I won’t go into what they’re doing to me, but it was worth it to see you.’”
I thought Jo was going to burst into tears.
She said, “I’m going to hide it under my mattress in case I’m strip-searched in tap class this afternoon.”
I said, “Jo, we are free theatrical spirits. This is not a prison camp. We’re not little kids anymore. We are nearly women and have varying amounts of corker. . . . We can’t just be bossed about by—”
Dr. Lightowler came by and shouted, “If you’ve got a spare moment to waste gossiping, you need to be running around the school. Into your PE kit, girls, and ten times round the garden walls.”
As she went, Jo said, “Yeah, good point well made, Lullah.”
On the way back to the village after college, I was walking fast. The woods were rattling with cold breezes and there were odd calls and hoots. Maybe Connie, the owlets’ mum, was out there looking for some supper for them. It looked stormy and clouds flitted across the darkening sky. I cuddled into my coat and thought about the day. Wow, plenty of boy action one way and another.
Before I came to Dother Hall I hadn’t had much to do with boys and now I knew a little group of them. It was really exciting to be part of everything.
Like Cousin Georgia. She had her Ace Gang and I have my Tree Sisters. The only difference is that out of all of them, I’m the only one who hasn’t got a boyfriend. I know Flossie hasn’t officially got a boyfriend, but she could have Seth or Ben. Or both probably.
I do want to be friends with Charlie, and I accept he has a girlfriend, but he still gives me a shaky, excited feeling in my knees.
And tummy.
And heart.
Also my hands feel a bit shaky when he’s around.
And my mouth.
That’s a lot of shaking. And I don’t think shakiness is really a friendy thing.
And then there’s Cain. Lurking about, being absent.
It’s very tense-making, waiting for him to pop up from somewhere. And he’s always popping up when you least want a person to pop up. Like when you’re adjusting your corker holder. Or doing a bit of corker-measuring. Or rubbing your corkers with hiking socks to make them grow. That’s when he pops up.
And the most popping up of all the popping things he’s done was on the night when he popped up on the back path. And snogged me.
But that is something that will remain locked in my Darkly Demanding Damson Diary forever. That is how much I have put away the dark secret thing. And I am not thinking about him ever again. He can do what he likes as far as I’m concerned. In fact, I’m going to throw away the poem he gave me when I get in.
I reached the bridge. The famous (not) drowning bridge. Where Beverley Bottomly jumped off to drown herself. Because Cain was supposed to be going out with her and she turned up at a gig to meet him and he was snogging another girl. Then, just when she’d got over that, he went out with Beverley again and then re-dumped her. She was double-dumped. So now she’s starving herself to death.
She must really like him.
But why?
He’s so horrible to her.
He’s horrible to me.
Mind you, I don’t really take it personally because he’s horrible to everyone.
He’s always sort of mocking me because I don’t know about stuff. Saying I’m just a kid. But after all that, he goes and kisses me. And writes a poem to me. Even though it looked like it had been written by someone with hoofs instead of hands.
Perhaps he has got hoofs and not hands?
Have I actually seen his hands?
Maybe he’s the Devil. Oh Holy Mother of God.
That’s why he’s got hoofs instead of hands!
I’m being silly now—how could he play the guitar with hoofs?
Hang on.
He doesn’t play the guitar.
The Blind Pig was all lit up as I walked across the bridge and Ruby and Matilda came skipping along to meet me. Ooooh, it was so nice to see them.
Ruby shouted, “There she is, Matilda. There’s big Loopy Lullah with her legs!!! Go seek!!”
Matilda sat down and Ruby shouted at her. “Go seek! Not sit, you daft lump!!!”
Matilda came charging to meet me, but couldn’t stop so went past me, slipped on some stones, and slithered down the riverbank. She wasn’t slipping very fast, but she couldn’t stop herself; she was just looking back at us as she slowly slipped down the bank. With big blinky eyes. Occasionally, she’d look forward and see the river approaching and then she’d look back again. For some reason it made me laugh so much I thought I might pee.
Once I’d pulled myself together I went and got her out of the river and I kissed her on the head. I wished I hadn’t actually because she smelled really horrible.
Ruby said, “Dun’t kiss her . . . oh, too late. I’ve just rubbed her down with a cod skin—it’s good for her fur.”
I was nearly sick. Matilda looked miserable as she squelched along beside us; her mouth was turned down. I said, “Oh, Matilda’s bottom lip is all droopy. I think she feels like a fool.”
Ruby looked at her. “She is a fool.” And Ruby tucked Matilda’s bottom lip in and pulled her top lip over her teeth and said, “There, that’s nicer now. She’s smiling!”
I told Ruby about meeting Charlie in the woods.
She said, “Ooooh, Charlie. I like that
Charlie. He’s my favorite. He’s reight good-looking. He’s so hot he’s like ‘ouch ouchy.’”
How does Ruby know about these things?
She said, “If you don’t go out with him, I will.”
I said, “Ruby, you’re eleven.”
Ruby kicked at a leaf. “I like older boys. So do you. You like Alex.”
I stammered, “No I don’t, well, only you know like a . . .”
Ruby said, “Like a div? Well, he’s coming home the weekend after next so get over it!”
I started spluttering about not knowing what she was talking about, but then I heard Mr. Barraclough behind me saying loudly, “Now, Ruby, I’ve told thee before, stop messing about with them lanky village lads.”
And he shouted to me as I went off, “Be told, young man, she’s too bloody good for thee.”
Oh, here we go. I turned back and said, “It’s me, Mr. Barraclough, Tallulah.”
And he put his glasses on and looked more closely.
“Bloody hell, well, I go to the bottom of our garden, it’s you! I do apologize. My heartfelt apologies. It’s just that in this light, well . . . it’s a mistake that anyone could make. Is it a clown workshop you’ve had today? Thank goodness taxpayers’ money is not going to waste. You’re not being a clown now, are you? Are you still wearing the comedy shoes?”
And he went cackling off into the pub.
He loves it.
He loves having us to mock at Dother Hall.
I got out my Darkly Demanding Damson Diary when I got into my squirrel room and looked at my Lululuuuve List.
I wonder if I will ever get to Number 5 with a boy again.
Oh and here’s Cain’s silly poem.
I’ll tear it up.
No, I won’t. I might save it to use in a performance sometime.
Oh and here’s the letter I wrote to Alex the Good last term and never posted.
Dear Alex,
It was really nice to see you last weekend and to talk about theater. I love the theater. It’s great, isn’t it? I think if I could just be on the stage all the time I would be truly happy. Not all the time, I mean I’d like to do other things. Like sleep and go shopping and so on. But apart from that do you . . .
I didn’t get any further than that. Just as well I didn’t send it to him because he would have probably read it out to his floaty girlfriend, Candice.
How come I can’t be like Candice?
All floaty.
I suppose I could get a floaty top from Skipley. I think I will.
I’ve eaten snail shells
THE TREE SISTERS ARE still under house arrest. And they’re not allowed out at the weekend.
At break on Friday, after a read-through of the banquet scene in The Taming of the Shrew with Dr. Lightowler (who made me be the half-witted manservant), Flossie said, “If I don’t get out of this goddam hellhole, Miss Lullah, well, I just gonna go plum crazee. I ache for the touch of a maaaan. Why, I even found mahself axing Bob if he’d thought about growing a li’l mustache cos I thought it would suit him real fine.”
This can’t go on. Somebody is going to snap. Jo keeps gazing at the boy-shaped hole in the potting-shed roof. She says it makes her feel nearer to Phil.
At the end of the day, Jo went off to the loos and came back all dressed in black with dark glasses on. She said, “I’m giving myself up to the Camp Commander. I can’t stand it anymore. Don’t try and stop me.”
When she said “Camp Commander,” I thought she meant Monty, but she was talking about Sidone.
We persuaded her to wait it out. They couldn’t keep the whole dorm cooped up forever.
Vaisey said, “Come on, how bad can things get? It’s just staying in a bit, isn’t it? We’re not being tortured.”
At which point, Dr. Lightowler came beaking along. “You girls on remand, no TV tonight. Instead we are experimenting with living as the Brontës did. Go and see what you can find in the garden to cook for supper and then it’s a magic lantern show.”
Poor Tree Sisters.
As I headed home for the weekend, they all waved sadly as Bob handed out the trowels. I was going through the main doors to lope off when Lav came up to me. Swishing her coppery hair about.
She looks like she wears makeup, but I don’t think she does. I think she’s just got that kind of perfect skin. The kind of skin that you really wish would have a spot on it.
I don’t know why I’m so mean to her. I make myself feel bad.
“Hellooo there, Oirish, how the divil are you? I’ve not laid eyes on you for ages. Have you been a-larking about with your mates, you little colleen?”
She is so annoyingly friendly. But I know why she wants to be my bestie. And it didn’t take long for her to get round to it. She said, “Any news of that noice young man at all, at all?”
I couldn’t help myself—it had been a bit of a tense day—so I said, “Oh yeah, do you mean Alex? Actually, funnily enough, Ruby says he’s coming home the weekend after next.”
Lavinia said, “Railly? Well, I might just swing by. I’ve something I want to ask him about a play I’m doing in London.”
She was all smiley and dimply.
I said, in a really friendly way, “Wow, that’s a coincidence, isn’t it? And I expect he’d be pleased to see you. It would be great actually because you could meet his girlfriend, Candice. She’s really, really nice. She’s got . . . lovely . . . hair. But oh no, hang on, I mean maybe three’s company and . . . er . . . no, I mean two’s company and . . .”
Lav laughed. “Don’t you go worrying your pretty head about that, Tallulah Casey, my dear, me dahling girl. I think Alex would always be pleased to see me.”
I said, “Oh, but I think he really likes Candice. I mean, he and she, well . . .”
Lav tapped her nose and then ruffled my hair and said, “When you get a bit bigger, Oirish, you’ll find that boys don’t know what they want until you tell them, begorrah, bejesus.”
As I was banging off through the front door, Flossie came bounding up.
“If you see anything of that Seth boy, let me know. I’ve got bad boy withdrawal! Ciao.”
Trudging home, I was thinking about tomorrow and Sunday. I haven’t got anything to really look forward to. I’ll be just on my owny.
I wonder what Lav meant about boys not knowing what they want until you tell them. She sort of implied that if she wanted to, she could make Alex like her. Even though he’s got a wafty girlfriend. Hmmm.
Is that the right thing to do though? Isn’t it sort of like hypnotizing someone?
Like when you see a hypnotist show and they get a member of the audience onto the stage and say, “Look into my eyes. Not around the eyes, right into my eyes. You are a giant rabbit. You love carrots.” And the person starts hopping around and saying, “Coo, you haven’t got any carrots, have you? I’d love a carrot.”
Maybe it’s like Cousin Georgia said when you do “sticky eyes”?
She says you have to look a boy right in the eyes and then look down. Then you look him in the eye again. And then down again. Sort of like really slow blinking, but it is called “sticky eyes.”
Should I try it with Charlie?
Not the carrots thing. I don’t want him to like carrots. I want him to like me.
Lav seems so sure of herself, so sure that boys will like her. Maybe that’s it. Honey said if you believed you had “inner glorwee” then everyone, especially boys, would think you had it, too.
But how exactly do you find your “inner glory” when you need it?
I really, really miss Honey. She would know about all this.
Dibdobs had made me a boiley egg for tea. And the lunatic twins were at Little Foragers’ Club so it was almost normal. She said, “And I’ve made you soldiers, Lullah, with the bread that Harold made.”
As she said that, Harold came in, all togged up in bicycle gear. His bicycle helmet looks like it’s got a grass rug on the top of it. He said, “This grass is a marvelous insu
lator; my head is quite snug. Sure you don’t want to come on the snail hunt with me and the Little Foragers, Lullah?”
I smiled and said, no; sadly, I had homework to do.
Dibdobs beamed and said, “Aaaaaah.”
Harold beamed at me as well.
They do a lot of beaming, the Dobbinses. I crunched away at my toast. Blimey, it was very crunchy. I said, with my mouth full, “Thith bread ith, wll ith . . . lovlyth.”
Harold said, “Aaah, having some of my bread, Lullah? I’ve added ground-up snail shells to the mix. I think it gives it a special flavor and it’s a tremendously good source of zinc.”
I have eaten snail shells.
That is my glamorous theatrical life in a nutshell.
Well, a snail shell actually.
After they’d gone out, I was a bit bored so I decided to go through all my clothes and makeup. So that took ten minutes.
Then I tried a bit of the layering of mascara that Georgia told me about. Then I put my hair up like Lav does, sort of loosey-goosey, so that it slightly falls down. And I put on my new skinny jeans (the red ones).
I’m ready to go out, but I haven’t got anywhere to go out to.
Hmmm.
I went over to find Ruby and show her my new look. As I got nearer the pub, I could hear shouting coming from inside. And an occasional guitar riff. Oh, I’d forgotten The Iron Pies were rehearsing; they’ve got a gig soon.
It had better not be too soon.
I poked my head round the front door into the main hallway and shouted up the stairs, “Hello, Ruby, are you around?”
There was no reply from upstairs, just loud drumming from the bar. And a guitar. The guitar kept starting and stopping. And I could hear Mr. Barraclough swearing. Then I heard Bob’s voice. “Dude, dude, listen up!!!! Listen to what I’m playing on the drum line. That is what you have to follow. The beat is der der der der—DER DER.”
Mr. Barraclough’s distinctive voice shouted, “That’s what I was doing.”
Bob said, “No, dude, you were doing der der DER der DER der.”