A Midsummer Tight's Dream

by Louise Rennison

  I said quietly to Jo, “She’s grown a winter cloak.”

  Even though you would have had to be a dog to hear me, her beady eyes swiveled round and fixed on me. And not in a good way. Not in a “hello, Tallulah, how lovely to see you” way.

  “And when I say settle down, girls, I particularly mean you, Tallulah Casey.”

  Jo said, “Boy, does she hate you.”

  I don’t know why she does. It’s something about my legs. She thinks I have grown them extra long just to annoy her. And that I do Irish dancing on purpose. She doesn’t know about having Tourettes of the legs.

  Dr. Lightowler went on, “The principal is away on urgent business today. In the meantime, as you know, our winter project is a reworking of A Midsummer Night’s Dream and I expect you all to fully participate. Keeping notebooks, doing lunchtime performances, etc. I don’t think all of you understand the great honor it is to be at Dother Hall. But can I remind you that this is not Liberty Hall. You have come to work. And work hard. Those of you not up to the mark may well find yourselves, quite literally, as in the Bard’s play, being Bottom.”

  What is she talking about? And why is she looking at me?

  Monty and Gudrun were trumpeting with laughter at “being Bottom.” In fact, Gudrun got hiccups and had to leave the hall.

  It was only half-past nine in the morning and I was already tired. And confused. Having my bottom felt by a serial hugger and then the serial hugger saying, “we need to talk about stuff.”

  What did “we need to talk” mean? What does “stuff” mean?

  We need to talk about forgetting about stuff? What was stuff?

  For our first lesson, Monty turned up with a copy of A Midsummer Night’s Dream and wearing green corduroy trousers to the knee and a cap with a feather in it. He said, “Girls, good morning, and especially good morning to Honey. Welcome, my dear, welcome back. I hope to hear your lovely voice in our production. Perhaps as the Queen of the Fairies?”

  Honey smiled at him in her Honey way. But when she looked round at me, she looked a bit sad. She won’t be in A Midsummer Night’s Dream, she will be riding around in a limo in a Hollywood dream.

  Monty went to sit down on a table but his trousers were too tight to bend easily, so he put one arm on the top of the table and leaned back, in a casual storytelling pose.

  He said, “Once more we enter the magical, tragical, comedical world of Shakespeare and his wondrous fairy tale. Now, as you may know, a great deal of the action takes place in the woods and to get into the proper spirit we shall ourselves, ‘enter the woods.’ The woods are of course a metaphor for the imagination and subconscious.”

  Rain started pelting against the windows.

  I said to the others, “I hope he is being ‘metaphorical’ in that he means we will enter the woods in our minds, but not actually have to go outside into the howling rain.”

  Honey said, “I don’t want to spoil my bootth, the wain might wuin them for Hollywood. I don’t think they will like thoggy bootth in Hollywood.”

  Flossie said, “I know, and my pants are only just dry from yesterday. I put them on the dorm radiator to dry. If Bob had found them I would have been hung for offenses against the planet.”

  Everyone else seemed keen to get into the woods.

  Vaisey said, “Come on, it will be fun.” And stuffed her curls into her hat.

  Monty started putting on his raincoat. My coat was still damp from walking to Dother Hall, but who said the ladder to the stars was going to be dry? We squelched across the sodden grass and into the dripping woods. A big raindrop went right down my neck. At least no one licked it off.

  Monty had his theatrical welligogs on (stars all over them) and bustled along in front of us breathing in the damp forest air as if it was tincture of joy. Then he darted off suddenly and hid behind a tree.

  We looked at each other—had we started the avant garde performance already? Then Monty’s head popped out and he put his hand to his ear and said, “Sssshhhhhh. Can you begin to feel it, girls? Do you feel the magic working, girls? ‘What angel wakes me from my flowery bed?’ OOOohhhh, the Bard, the Bard! Genius genius!!!”

  We blundered on while he yelled over his shoulder, “You can smell fairies out here!!”

  We looked at each other.

  Then he stopped and gasped, “Look, girls, look. Drink in the sight.”

  He pointed to some moldy old hawthorn berries clinging on to a twig for dear life against the wind and rain. He gazed at them as if he was about to burst into tears and clapped his hands and said, “Two lovely berries molded on one stem.” And went chuckling off farther into the woods.

  After about ten minutes it stopped raining and as we lagged behind things began to look quite familiar. And then we realized that he was making for our special tree place.

  How did he know about it?

  Honey said, “Pwaps the twee weally does have stwange powers?”

  Well, it certainly had a big effect on Monty. He threw down his satchel and began skipping round the tree.

  “Girls, join in, join hands, join our little fairy throng. Let us make play in the woods, in the green woods.”

  We started shuffling around the tree in our raincoats.

  “Lightly, girls, lightly, as if you had wings!”

  So we did light skipping.

  Then he said, “Now, let us talk in fairy language!”

  I said, “What if the Woolfe boys come along and see us talking in high-pitched voices and skipping?”

  Flossie said, “Well, they’ve seen us wiggling around in front of trees before.”

  Monty pursed his lips and started trilling in a tiny tinkling voice. I happened to be next to him in the skipping circle, holding his pudgy hand, and as we skipped he turned to me and tinkled, “Heeeeee … weeee … meeeee. Hewwww.”

  And he looked at me all blinky as if expecting something. Flossie, Vaisey, Jo, and the rest had their mouths puckered up. So through my pursed lips I squeaked out in my fairy voice, “Hiddddiddddleeeee didddleeee diddilllleeee.”

  Flossie had a coughing fit she was laughing so much.

  After half an hour, Jo went up to Monty and said, “Mr. de Courcy, I can’t feel my bottom anymore. Can we go in?”

  Monty patted her head. Uh-oh. If I was him I wouldn’t have done that. Jo accidentally stepped on Monty’s foot, quite hard. Then started walking back to Dother Hall.

  As we followed her, Monty, slightly hopping, was still in his Shakespeare mood. He gestured after Jo and said, “She was a vixen when she went to school, and though she be but little, she is fierce.”

  And trilled with laughter.

  As we came out of ballet class that afternoon, I said to Vaisey, “It’s not really fair, is it? You know, ballet for people with my legginess. I mean, if I made Jo do, er … reaching for things on top shelves that wouldn’t be fair on her, would it? Because she’s too short to reach. So that is my point about me and ballet.”

  Vaisey said, “I know what you mean, but reaching up to shelves isn’t on our syllabus, is it?”

  And we headed up to the dorm.

  We were sitting on Vaisey’s bed and Jo was lying on me kicking her legs, complaining. “It’s all right for you, Tallulah, all you’ve got to be worried about is your legs. Phil might be phoning up so that he can dump me.”

  Vaisey said, “Why would he do that, he could just not bother getting in touch.”

  Honey said, “I think he weally liketh you, Jo, he even liked you when you hit him and jumped on him.”

  Jo wasn’t convinced.

  “Yeah, but maybe he really did mind and he just didn’t say he minded, but he was storing up minding into a big fat pile of mindiness. To tell me about on the phone.”

  Her mood was very catching. I said, “Who knows what boys think anyway? I mean, why would anyone lick your nose? I don’t remember that on Cousin Georgia’s snogging scale. And do you know why? Because it’s not on there.”

  Flossie said, “Wh
at is on the scale?”

  I told them all I could remember. Up to a kiss lasting over three minutes.

  Honey said, “After that it’s tongueth.”

  We looked at her. She swished her hair about.

  Vaisey said, “Tongues? At the same time? What, his tongue and your tongue?”

  Honey nodded. “Well, weally you have to impwovise.”

  I said, “Yes, but how do you improvise if you haven’t got anyone to improvise with? Ruby said that some boys were so rubbish at kissing that they should practice on something. Maybe we could do that. You know, improvise with something.”

  Flossie said, “Like what?”

  “Well, Ruby suggested balloons.”

  They just stared.

  Jo said, “What if you accidentally bit the balloon?”

  “Why would you accidentally bite a balloon?” I said.

  Honey said, “You can do a bit of a pwactice by using one of your fwends’ legth.”

  When it was my turn to practice, I put my lips on Flossie’s calf and Honey said, “Wight, Lullah, try sticking your tongue out just a little bit and sort of darting it in and out.”

  So I did. Even though I can’t really imagine when I am going to be kissing someone’s calf. But what do I know?

  Then Flossie started groaning and going, “Oooooh, that is so damn good. Why I declare, Miss Tallulah, you’re making me feel sooooo goooooood.”

  It was horrific.

  In the end, I stopped doing it on the back of Flossie’s leg, because she was doing her Texan accent and it made me feel sort of dirty.

  It was better with Honey, but she said I was too tickly, I have to practice more even pressure apparently.

  Oooooh, I wish my Dream Boy was here to rescue me. I bet I could get my pressure right with him.

  I wanted to go straight up to my squirrel room when I got home. I didn’t feel like hugging or eating anything local, so I said to Dibdobs I had homework to do.

  She said, “Oooooh, I bet you are going to be a big superstar, with your lovely long legs and your oooooooohhhhh gorgeousness. Isn’t she gorgeous, boys? Isn’t Tallulah gorgeous? With her legs and everything?”

  And so I found myself in a hugging extravaganza anyway. And I’ve got a local sausage in each hand.

  As I lie here, cuddling my squirrel slipper and Hammy and eating my sausages, I so wish I had a boyfriend to help me and to talk to. Someone sort of older and more, well, more Alex-shaped. I’ve been practicing my signature for the letter I’m going to write to him.

  I don’t like to ask Ruby if she knows when Alex will be back. She rolls her eyes if I even mention his name. Maybe I could stroll over there and not mention Dream Boy, just sort of see if I could use my feeling talents, or see if anyone accidentally mentioned him. I may as well.

  Dibdobs has gone knitting with the boys. As I passed the village hall, I heard the needles clacking. There’s a notice: ARE YOU A KNIT WIT? COME ALONG AND KNIT WITH US! next to the poster for The Jones’s gig.

  When I got to The Blind Pig I saw Beverley Bottomly coming out of the shop eating a doughnut. She looked at me and then she pointed two fingers to her eyes, and then pointed the fingers at my eyes and then she went off backward pointing the fingers at her eyes and then mine. Why is she doing that?

  As she went off down the road she called out, “Ay, Lady Muck. I’ve got my eyes on you. Think on. Leave our lads alone. Or else.”

  Ruby was on her way out to dog obedience classes with Matilda. I’d forgotten she still goes. She’s been going since summer. I can’t say that it seems to make much difference to Matilda’s obedience skills.

  Ruby said, “Last week we did ‘heel,’ didn’t we, Matilda? She is right good at it. Tha knows when you say to your dog ‘heel’ and it comes and walks behind thee? Like this. I’ll show thee what we’ve learned. Let’s show Tallulah what you can do, Matilda. Watch, Lullah.”

  She took Matilda onto the green and shouted at her, “Right then. Here we go. Heel!! Matilda, heel!”

  Ruby slapped her side and shouted, “Heel!!!”

  Matilda put her head on one side and looked at Ruby. Ruby said, “Good girl, HEEL!”

  And Matilda lay on her tummy with her legs all splayed out. Like a grilled chicken. With fur on. And a collar with a big bow on it. And looked with her moony eyes at us.

  Ruby shouted, “You daft lummox, I said ‘heel’ not ‘hoof.’” She stamped her foot and said, “She’s as much use as a chocolate teapot—that’s what she does when she wants a hoofy treat. Come on, Matilda.”

  And she went and grumpily picked Matilda up and put her over her shoulder. As she stamped off she called back, “Is tha going to The Jones’s gig? It’s definitely on. I saw that Seth, and he said they were going to do it. Even though Ruben and Cain aren’t talking. I bet it will be brilliant. There might be a reight big fight.”

  And she went off whistling.

  I couldn’t just hang around without having her as my excuse but as no one was about I had a quick look through the pub door. No sign of Alex. Thank goodness Mr. Barraclough was out because … just as I was thinking that, he appeared in his pinnie.

  He said in a “kindly” tone, “Now then, young man, what can I do for thee?”

  I said, “Er, well, Mr. Barraclough, I am just—”

  “You’ve got very long hair for a lad. What is it you want?”

  I said, “I was just looking … around.”

  Ted looked at me.

  “I know what you’ve come for my lad, well, as it happens I have got a photo, I’ll just get it for thee.”

  And he went off into the pub.

  How did he know? How did he know I wanted to see a photo of Alex? Had Ruby said something? Oh no.

  Mr. Barraclough came back, carrying a photo.

  “There you are, my fine fellow me lad, feast your eyes on that beauty.”

  And he handed me a publicity shot of his band. The Iron Pies.

  There were four of them. And Mr. Barraclough was the smallest. It looked like the drummer would never be able to get out from behind his drums ever again.

  They were all in leather and Viking helmets.

  There was nothing to do but go back to my squirrel home. Dibdobs and the twins and Harold were on the sofa and they all had their feet in a big woolly thing.

  I said, “Um, night-night, I’m off to bed to read A Midsummer Night’s Dream.”

  Harold said, “We’re experimenting with a uni-sock, Lullah, and making earmuffs. But you get about your art, A Midsummer Night’s Dream aahhhh, ‘To sleep perchance to dream.’”

  It had stopped snowing. Now it was raining. The rain was tumbling down so hard, it was rattling the roof and occasionally the black sky lit up with lightning.

  I started flicking through A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

  It has to be said, it is a bonkers play. All about fairies and Bottom and love potions. I’m going to write some inspirational quotes in my Darkly Demanding Damson Diary.

  I write:

  Nay faith, let me not play a woman. I have a beard coming!!!!!

  This is a good one:

  “Bless thee, Bottom!”

  How hilarious to have a character called Bottom.

  Oh and this reminds me of what Ted Barraclough said to Ecclesiastica Bottomly, when she was sitting on his wall:

  “Methought I was enamored of an ass.”

  Tee-hee, imagine being called Bottomly and having such a big bottom.

  Don’t forget your Bottom

  SIDONE WAS BACK AT assembly the next day. She came on in a gold catsuit and began pacing up and down. Like a gold cat. In a suit.

  “Let me tell you a story, girls.”

  She came to the front of the stage and continued in a sort of softy voice, looking out like she could see something we couldn’t see.

  “In the heady days of my youth, I was in a Broadway production. Ealing Broadway. It was just a small part as a tomato in the comedy, Have You Seen My Tomatoes?

>   “But I gave it my all. Every night I turned up and I BECAME a tomato. As the show went on for weeks, some of the other girls in the chorus grew tired of being tomatoes, they said the costumes made them look fat, some of them didn’t even bother to dye their heads green. But I always did. Because I cared. I’ve always cared, perhaps I’ve cared just too darned much.”

  She looked down for ages, then she shook her shoulders and said, “I even spent most of one afternoon in a greenhouse full of tomatoes to really pick up their tomatoiness. And, girls, my girls, it paid off because one night a producer came along and saw me and plucked me from the vegetable patch and … and the rest is history. I lived my dream and then I came here to let others live their dreams.”

  At which point she smiled. That was a bit spooky.

  She said, “And let us live the dream while we still can because one of our own little stars has been favored by the gods of showbiz. Has been plucked from the vegetable patch … Honey is off to Hollywood!!!!!!”

  Everybody went mad when they heard about Honey. Lifting her up and dancing about with her. Then putting her on the stage. Her golden honey hair was shaking and curling about, and her corkers looked quite jolly as well.

  When we stopped clapping and whistling, she looked out at us and said, “Oh, thank you, itth weally thweet of you to be tho glad for me, and even if I do well and they like me I will weally, weally mith you all. I will never forget Dother Hall and my fwends and teachers here. And I will come back and visit and see you all again.”

  Everyone clapped up a storm. I felt like crying. Monty was crying. So was Gudrun and even Bob blew his nose on his T-shirt.

  Sidone glided across in her catsuit and put her arm around Honey’s shoulders and spoke over the top of the hubbub. “Yes go, Honey, go fly to your dream. Live your dream. These fleeting moments of happiness amidst the interminable agony of grim despair. And loss of dreams. Say farewell, Honey, say farewell to Dother Hall. Because dreams come to an end. And then nightmares become dreams and the dreams that you dreamed are no longer dreams you can dream they are the nightmares that you dreamed were dreams.”