He said, “Mummers, dear, Mummers. I’m glad you asked that, Jo, it’s very, very interesting.”
Sadly, we now know that every time Monty says something is “very interesting” it is bound to be a story about him as a young man.
We were right.
Monty said, “I remember well the first Mummers play I was asked to do. It was a warm summer’s evening in Chelsea. I had a lovely flat where I was wont to entertain friends after drama college. A way of us letting off steam. One of my friends, Simeon, was admiring my vegetables.”
I looked at Vaisey and Jo. Where was this going to end?
Monty was still in Chelsea. “Why have roses when you can have fine, firm cauliflowers in your vases?”
Anyway, it turns out that a Mummers play is medieval.
Monty went on. “The ‘Mummers’ would dress up in motley (bits of old rag) with their faces painted blue and take sticks with sheep’s bladders on the end of them to hit people with, and they would travel to local hostelries on a Saturday eve.”
I whispered to Vaisey, “It sounds like The Blind Pig.”
And she giggled and shook her hair about.
All afternoon we practised the Mummers play. It’s mostly fooling around and a bit of olde dialogue. Honey got to swan around singing as the maiden, Jo was St George and belted people with her sword, and Flossie was the dragon. Vaisey was the wandering minstrel and Monty was the narrator. I didn’t have anything to say because I was to be the horse.
Actually, to tell the truth it was spiffing.
We even improvised bits and I pretended to be Black Beauty, which made Vaisey laugh a lot. I seem to have lost a bit of my self-consciousness. I said that to the girls and Flossie said, “That’s because you have no pride left.”
She’s not wrong.
At the end of the day, Monty said, “Now then, girls, I have a marvellous surprise, I thought we would pay a visit to The Blind Pig on Friday. And show them our little entertainment.”
Oh no.
Crumbs.
Crikey.
And also, bejesus.
In Bob’s Dude-mobile on the way to The Blind Pig, I said to Vaisey, “You should be the little horse. Tell Monty, tell him, that you always are the horse. Remind him of your Black Beauty.”
She said, “I can’t now, it’s too late. I’m the wandering minstrel and you don’t want to sing, do you?”
I am someone who has got forty-five per cent for their talents and I am having to go into the lions’ den, The Blind Pig. To give my forty-five per cent in front of a man who pretends I am a big lad. In tights. When Mr Barraclough sees me as a horse, he will be so thrilled.
Well, I am not going to do it.
It’s not just for me.
Matilda would never be able to hold her paws up in public again.
But as if in a horrific slow-motion nightmare, I found myself in the barn at the back of The Blind Pig. In a horse costume.
I tried to canter off down the road, but Dr Lightowler spotted me and gave me one of her looks. So I pretended to eat some grass by the side of the road, as if I was getting into character, like Monty told us. I was pretending to be the horse. I tried to explain that to her, but she just shook her cloak and tutted.
All the Dother Hall staff had come along to support us. Blaise Fox was smoking a cheroot. She clicked her tongue at me and said, “Giddy up.”
When we appeared in the main bar, Mr Barraclough was beside himself with delight.
He was all dressed up and he had put a special bowler hat on the stag.
Oh, it was bad. Worserer than anyone could have imagined. It had seemed good fun in the studio at Dother Hall. All ‘have at thee’ and ‘jokes’ that made no sense – “Hey diddly noddly noo, I will throw thee down the loo.”
All I can say is that people in olden times must have had nothing to do. But no one else seemed to mind like I did. Honey was the maiden and swanned around singing with a lute. She was flirting with the village boys, who were like mothth to a flame.
I said quietly to Vaisey, when I had done my horse dance, “If Alex or Charlie or Phil or even Ben turn up, please shoot me quickly or stab me to death with the stag’s horns.”
It was mostly the village lads watching and laughing. But I don’t mean laughing in an entertained way, I mean in a ‘laughing at me’ way. The Dobbins were at the back of the crowd and the twins just looked and looked at me. Dibdobs clapped each time I did anything, even lean against the bench. And Harold joined in at one point and had an ‘amusing’ fight with Flossie when he snatched her sheep’s bladder and started hitting people with it.
Also, I was hot. My costume had legs hanging from it. And, besides a long tail, I had big ears and a mane.
The whole thing was awful, and I didn’t understand why the rest of the girls thought it was so funny. Jo was bashing the big lads over the head with her inflated sheep’s bladder like there was no tomorrow. She was shouting, “Have at thee, you varlant.” And all sorts.
At last, it was the end and Monty came on as the narrator. There was a spontaneous round of applause. Just for his codpiece.
Monty was bowing and passing round his hat for change when one of the bigger lads grabbed Monty’s codpiece. Oh, I wish I was kidding. And put it on his head like a bonnet.
Monty was delighted.
“Away you go, my boys!!! Play on, play on.”
Then at a signal from Bob, who had been dressed as a jester with a drum, Monty strode into the centre, his tights quite literally bulging with the strain of clinging on to his stomach. He said:
“And now, good friends, forfend,
And alack aday our tale is at an end,
We hope we have in some small way,
Added to this merry day.
I thank you and alas must be away.”
And he bowed and the whole of the back of his tights split.
I had to trot at the back of him until he could escape into the men’s loos.
Afterwards in the barn we were swigging ginger beer and eating crisps. Everyone was all excited and pepped up. Ms Fox came to see us and said, “Well done. Well done. Brilliant interaction with the audience. Excellent use of sheep’s bladders. Very, very good. And Tallulah once again, a masterpiece in how to try and avoid being seen. I couldn’t take my eyes off you. No one could.”
Oh goodie.
Ruby was nagging me to come and see the owl eggs. She said, “I’ve got a feeling about ‘em…I think they’re going to be popping out soon. What do you think we should name them?”
She said this to me, like I was the owlets’ dad and she was the owlets’ mum.
Ruby said, “It’s really exciting, isn’t it?”
I said, “It will be if Connie the killer mum is there.”
Oh, I was so tired.
I tried to keep my end up though, and be cheerful and nice, and join in.
About half an hour later, after a gallon of ginger beer and two tons of crisps we were just coming away from the pub when the Hinchcliff boys swaggered up.
All three of them.
Ruben, Cain and Seth.
It was like a stand-off at the O.K. Corral.
And I was Trigger.
Why, oh, why hadn’t I taken the horse costume off? I tried to tuck the dangly legs out of sight, but I still had a horse’s body and tights on.
The boys just looked at us.
Then Ruben said, “Cor.”
Jo and Vaisey and Honey were looking at them like mesmerised sheep.
And they were the wolves.
Ruby said, “Don’t take any notice of ’em, it only meks ’em worse.”
But I could tell the others were a bit fascinated.
The lads were sort of circling us. Seth and Ruben were dark, like Cain.
Then Seth pinched Honey’s bottom. And she said, “Owch that weally hurt.”
Seth said getting really close to her, “Did it WEALLY hurt, love?”
Then Flossie pinched Seth’s bottom and he leaped about a mile in
the air.
He said, “Bloody hell, you’re a strong dragon!”
Ruby said, “Clear off, you lot, otherwise I’m going to tell my dad about that chicken you stole.”
Seth said, “You would an’ all, you—”
But they began to slope off, making kissing noises. As Cain passed me he looked right into my eyes for a minute, just breathing and looking at me. From his dark eyes. And his dark-red mouth. From under his black hair. I felt like I was being drawn into a vortex of blackness. What did he want with me?
Then he said, “Look at state of you.”
CHAPTER 15
He’s like a wild animal
A winking, snogging, wild animal
As we walked along Honey said, “They’re vewy thexy in a no good way.”
I looked back to see Cain looking back at me. Then he did a clicking sound and one of the village girls, I think she’s called Beverley, came out of the shadows. She got hold of Cain’s arm.
Cain shouted out, “Night-night girls, don’t do nowt I wouldn’t do.” And he laughed.
Ruby said, “That Beverley has been forbidden ever to see Cain since the last time.”
Honey said, “What happened?”
Ruby said, “Well, she was right keen on Cain and he, you know…”
We all went “What???”
Ruby said, “Well, he snogged her and that, and then she was all keen, and he gave her a ring and so she started telling folk they were engaged.”
Vaisey said, “What happened then?”
Ruby said, “Beverley turned up at one of The Jones’s gigs and Cain were with someone else.”
Jo said, “What, she just turned up? He didn’t say anything? What did she do?”
Ruby said, “She went down to the river and she threw herself in it.”
We all went, “Oh my God.”
Vaisey said, “Did she drown?”
And we all looked at her. Then she realised and went a bit red. She said, “What did happen?”
Ruby said, “Well, the river was only a few inches deep, so she sat down in it and ruined her frock, and that were abaht it. But she went to bed and wept for weeks, and that. Her dad were livid and started a family row with the Hinchcliffs, and she’s not to speak to Cain again.”
Cain is a bounder and a cad.
When we reached the Dobbins’ house, Jo, Flossie, Vaisey and Honey decided to try and, accidentally on purpose, find the boys. They were going to have a look round to see if they were playing snooker in the village hall or having a game of football.
I said, “My legs are tired after all that trotting. I think I will hit the hay.”
Flossie gave my head a little squeeze.
“That was very nearly a joke.”
Ruby said to me, “What? What about the eggs?”
I said, “Maybe tomorrow.”
She said, “Huh. I’ll come with you lot, then.”
Vaisey said kindly, “It’s a bit late, Rubes, and I don’t want your dad on my case.”
So Ruby went grumbling off home to play with Matilda and her new squeaky bone. That Matilda is scared of
As they left, Jo had one last go at persuading me.
“Ben or – Charlie might be there.”
I was too fed up. I said, “No. I would love to, but I think I have pulled a fetlock.”
I went in back to the Dobbins’ house. They were still out. The last time I had seen them, they were telling the rough lads from the pub about their skipping rope. And Harold had his special Christmas pipe out.
I went up to my squirrel room.
I sat in my squirrel room.
Looking at my horsie legs.
What a night.
I love my new friends, but they can do stuff. And they are not all weird and self-conscious like me. Like Vaisey. Even though her whole head was painted blue and she was charging about in bits of old rag, she enjoyed it. And Honey sang in a lovely voice, and Jo waggled her sword about and slapped the audience with it. And Flossie, well Flossie was just Flossie…
And Ben hasn’t sent me a note or anything. Even though he did jabby-tongue business. That seems a bit rude.
I wish Matilda was here, trying to get up into my bed.
I may as well get in it myself, there’s nothing else to do.
I even broke my rule about not being childish and put the squirrel slippers next to me. Because they were soft and furry.
I wrote in my performance art notebook:
I feel all hot and restless.
I feel like there is some big mystery I don’t know about.
Some thing, wild, rising up inside me.
Calling to me.
Maybe I’ve got a touch of the Wuthering Heights.
Out on the moors,
The lonely moors,
I roll around in sheep poo.
Heathcliff, it’s youuuuu,
I hate you, I love you tooooo.
Let me in, I’m here, it’s meeeee,
Catheeeeeeee.
Look out of your windooooow.
I got up to look out of the window towards Grimbottom. That could have been named for Heathcliff. Maybe I’ll read the book Harold gave me, Heathcliff: Saint or Sinner?
Um. The first chapter is about him being an orphan.
Well, I’m practically an orphan, but I don’t go round setting dogs on people and shouting. And being mean. In fact, Matilda likes me very much. I am a tall doggie treat to her.
Boys don’t like me, though.
Ooooohhhhh. I can’t concentrate on Heathcliff. I’m too hot and bothered. Where’s the James Bond book that Dad gave me? Here it is.
Now where did I get to?
Oh yes. In Jamaica, it’s the bit where Honeychile is so hot and the fans are going round and round in the hotel room. And the waves are crashing against the shore. And so Honeychile took off all her clothes and stood by the window. Yes, this is the good bit.
Bond went across to her and took a breast in each hand. But still she looked away from him out of the window.
“Not now,” she said in a low voice.
How does that work? Is that what you’re supposed to do? Should I have said “Not now” to Ben?
If I act it out, I might get an idea of what it feels like.
I won’t take off my jim-jams, I will just imagine that bit.
Although it’s hard to imagine someone putting their hands over my corkers as I haven’t really got any.
Maybe if I put socks down the front of my jim-jams that would be more like corkers. Yes, but then I wouldn’t know what it felt like to have a hand over each one.
Maybe, if I put the socks on my hands, that would give me more of an idea.
I’ll use my big thick hiking ones.
OK.
Right, I am walking in a sexy way to the window. Phew, I am hot. I am imagining the Caribbean Sea crashing against the shed at the bottom of the garden. James Bond coming over to me. He is putting a hand over each breast. Oooh, the hiking socks are a bit prickly. I am looking away from him out of the window. I am saying, “Not now…”
Oh, dear Virgin Mary and all her cohort, there is someone down there looking up at me!!! I bobbed down beneath the windowsill.
The light was on in my room.
Had they seen me fondling myself with hiking socks??
I stayed absolutely still.
Perhaps they hadn’t seen anything and were just looking at owls or…
A voice shouted up. “Have you gone all shy now? Why don’t tha come out and play with me?”
And a girl’s voice further away said, “You think you’re something.”
And the boy said, “Correction, love, I KNOW I’m something. I’m Cain Hinchcliff.”
When I was sure they had gone off I went and shut the window. For about twenty minutes, I lay on my bed. Those Hinchcliffs are not like anyone I’ve ever met before. Cain is wild. Not like a human being, more like an animal in trousers. He will love this. It’s like he gets pleasure from being b
ad. He’ll probably make up a song about it, like poor Beverley.
Just then, something banged against my window.
Someone was throwing stones against it.
He was back.
Bloody Cain.
He thinks he’s so funny.
But he’s not.
Well, I’m just in the mood for the big lairy lug. I’ve got nothing else to lose. He’s seen me in my horsie legs and now, rubbing my corkers with hiking socks. What else can he do to me?
I went to the window and opened it and shouted down, “Where do you get your kicks…casualty?”
And Charlie said, “Er…no. I have come in friendship to worship the knees. Come down.”
Gadzooks. I looked at myself in the mirror. Oh, what the bejesus could I do about myself?
Take my pyjamas and the socks off, for one thing. I did that and I put my jeans and a T-shirt on. And shook my hair about.
When I opened the front door, Charlie was slouching against the garden gate. He looked really cool. He’s lovely looking. And I realised how glad I was to see him again. It had been a bit awkward last time, thinking about why he didn’t come to the cinema. But he must like me as a friend if he has specially come round to see me. So I beamed at him. And he did a mega grin back.
He said, “You’ve covered the knees and I specially came to see them. Can I just feel one? To get the impression of knee.”
He was making me laugh.
I said, “OK. Just a quick feel, though.”
He said, “Bend your leg up, like you are a horsie standing on one leg.”
I said, “They told you, didn’t they?”
He said, “Who? What? Oh yeah, go on then, they did tell me. They’re over by the bus stop wagging about. Show us your horse costume.”
“No.”
“Well, describe Sugar Plum Bikey to me then.”
I was outraged.
“They have broken the rule of—”
Charlie said, “The Tree Sisters?”
“Yes, yes, the Tree Sisters’ rule.”
Charlie reached down and touched my knee.