She’s got lots of nice dresses. I don’t really know about dresses, I am so busy trying to disguise my legs and knees.
I said to Vaisey, “I wish I could wear stuff like you do.”
She was trying on a little denim dress and said, “You will, your legs are bound to stop growing soon.”
In the end I put my jeans on, but I did borrow a studded leather belt from Vaisey which looked good, I think. Vaisey did my eyeliner thing and I wore a bit of dark pink lip gloss.
Flossie and Jo were at the stop when we got there. They’d got out onto the roof last night and were really excited about it.
Jo said, “It was brilliant, we danced around in our pajamas and no one knew we were up there!”
Flossie said, “We could have stayed up there all night and they wouldn’t have known.”
Jo said, “I’d kept some bread and butter back from supper and we ate that. Outdoors. On the roof.”
I said, “We had a bulldog in our bed.”
Flossie said, “You lucky, lucky person. You have all the luck.”
The bus for Skipley arrived. It was quite full. When I asked for four returns to Skipley, please, the bus driver said, “You’ll not come back from Skipley, lass, no one does. You’re all doomed!!!! Especially since I will be driving today with no hands.”
Then he started laughing and put his hands behind his back.
A woman at the front said, “Take no notice, love, he amuses himself.”
Then a grumpy voice from the back said, “What’s the bloody holdup? Ay, aren’t you that gangly one that kicked me on the train? I’m eighty-five, you know. By the time you bloody lot get on, I’ll be nearer eighty-six.”
We sat very near the front.
And everyone looked at me when they got off, like I was an old-person kicker.
Which I am.
It took us about half an hour to get to Skipley, bouncing across the dales and moors. Yorkshire people have a lot of sticks. Almost everyone who got on the bus had a stick.
Skipley was a biggish town, it had cafés and shops and everything.
I said, “Look! These shops have got stuff in them. Not just boiled sweets. Other stuff.”
We spent a lot of time trying on lipstick testers. I got a blusher, well, more like little goldy pink balls that you brushed on. I noticed that a lot of the girls in the shop were very orange. And quite big. I was almost squashed to death when two of them reached for the same perfume as me.
We messed around most of the afternoon and got to the bus stop to go back at about six o’clock. The girls at Dother Hall had to be back by seven thirty unless they got written permission from Sidone, and then you had to say who you were going with and where.
Flossie said, “It’ll be fun when you come up to the Hall to stay, Vaisey, although not necessarily for you, because Bob is making your bed.”
The bus arrived. We piled on and just as we were about to go a group of lads came skittering around the corner and leapt on, too. I recognized Phil and Charlie, and as they came down the bus they saw us. Jo started fiddling about with her hair.
Phil said loudly, “Hurrah, it’s the Tree Sisters. Are you having a thespian outing?”
The people on the bus started tutting. I went bright red, I think. I could feel my head on fire. Phil and Charlie sat down in the seats in front of Jo and me. And the other three went near Flossie and Vaisey. As the bus lurched off, Phil leaned over the back of his seat.
He said, “I still dream about our day in the woods.”
I said, “It wasn’t your day in the woods, it was our day in the woods. And anyway, it wasn’t our day in the woods, we were getting ideas.”
Charlie popped his head up then and looked really closely at us.
“Was your idea to go and get off with trees?”
Jo hit him over the head with her Topshop bag.
Phil said, “I like a fight on the way home.”
It was all getting a bit, I don’t know, sort of tense, but I don’t know why. The other boys were talking to Vaisey. And Flossie was talking to a bloke and his sheepdog. The bus stopped in the middle of nowhere. Not at a stop or anything, and a big old man got on and came up the bus toward us. He was carrying a chicken. It wasn’t dead.
He looked at the boys leaning over the backs of the seats and said, “Ay, you young larrikins. Sit down properly, tha’s not at home now.”
Then he gave the chicken to a woman at the back and said, “Now then, that’s for thee, bring us up any spare cow tit you’ve got and we’ll call it evens.”
She said, “Awreet, thanks, love.”
Then the chicken man walked slowly down the bus and got off.
Somebody shouted out from the back, “Can’t tha go a bit slower, at this rate I’ll still be alive by the time we get to Heckmondwhite. Bloody hell.”
When we shuddered off again, Phil popped his head up.
He looked at Jo.
She said, “What do you want?”
And he said, “Do you want to come to the pictures with me?”
I have never seen someone look so much like a human goldfish as Jo.
Eventually because he went on looking at her she said, “What?”
Phil went on, “Cinema, you and me, jogging boy and tree girl. Go on. Be a devil. Go on.”
Jo was saying, “But I . . . don’t . . .”
Then Charlie popped his head up.
“Go on, lady. Don’t upset him. He’s shy.”
All the way home Jo has been driving us mad. How many times can you go through a conversation? A lot, is the answer.
We had to hang around at the bus stop for ages while she went on and on.
Jo said, “What does he mean, do you want to come to the pictures with me?”
Flossie said, “I’ll tell you what he means. That he wants to take you to the cinema.”
We all nodded.
I said, “That sums it up. Night, night.”
Jo said, “OK, what if I do go with him and then that’s it. He doesn’t want to see me again. Because I am too small. Or can beat him at arm wrestling or whatever. What then? I will have been dumped just because I said I would go. Whereas, if I hadn’t gone in the first place I would have been all right.”
I don’t like myself for this, but I felt a bit jealous of Jo. At least she had been asked to go to the cinema by a real boy.
Jo said, “Anyway, I don’t think I fancy him. He’s too short.”
After the girls trudged off up the lane to Dother Hall, Vaisey said, “I’d be excited if I’d been asked out by a boy. I liked that other boy on the bus. He’s called Jack, but he didn’t say anything to me. He sort of looked like he was going to and then he didn’t.”
I put my arm around her. “I’m sure you will get a boyfriend.”
Vaisey said, “Have you met anyone you like yet? Do you like Charlie?”
I laughed in a casual way and said, “Charlie?”
She said, “Oh, I just wondered. I thought he might have asked you to go to the cinema as well.”
To tell the truth, that is what I had thought in a little faraway place in my mind. He seemed friendly and sort of happy to see me, but he hadn’t said anything. Why should he? He was quite a good-looking boy. Probably had a few girlfriends before.
I said to Vaisey, “Maybe he doesn’t go for the Irish broomstick type?”
Vaisey said, “You’re silly. Anyway, Honey said we had to show our glory.”
I said, “I am showing my glory, look at me showing my glory.” And I bent down and kissed my kneecaps as we walked along.
We had breakfast in the pub the next day. It was quite good fun being in a real pub when it was all secret and closed up. Especially as Ruby’s dad had gone to the beer fest up in the dales. For a laugh, I was offering one of the stuffed deer a little sausage when a male voice said, “Hello, Tallulah.”
I whirled round, hiding the sausage. It was Alex. Matilda went mad leaping up and down at his shins.
I said,
“Hello, Alex.” In a low voice, like the woman in James Bond. I don’t know why.
Vaisey said, “Hi, Alex. I’m going to go in and work on my song. Laters.”
Ruby went after her saying, “Vaisey, I want to show you Matilda’s new collar, it lights up. Come and see, Lullah.”
And she scampered off after Vaisey.
I was about to follow them when Alex said, “Come and sit in the sun with me. I haven’t really heard about how you are getting on at college or anything.”
I looked at him.
He was being quite nice, wasn’t he? Was he?
We went and sat on the wall that ran around the graveyard. You could see for miles from there and the moors looked green and not glowering like they often did. I could see big birds swooping and diving above the crags, like in Wuthering Heights on a good day. I felt warm in the sun and it was really nice sitting there with him. I was still nervous, because he was just so gorgeous. Like a film star, really. I don’t think I had ever spoken to a grown-up boy before. About myself.
He said, “What do you like best about college, Tallulah?”
“Oh, I don’t know really, I feel like I’m being me. Not that that is probably the best choice but . . .”
And he laughed. “What would be wrong with you?”
And that’s when I did it. “Oh, you know, the knee thingy. And the—” And just in time I stopped myself from saying the corkers word. I had very nearly said, to the best-looking boy in the universe, “Alex, I haven’t got any corkers, do you think they will ever grow?” And possibly followed that up by saying, “I have been trying various methods of corker-rubbing, what do you think?”
He was still reeling from the knee thingy.
“The knee thingy?”
I said, “Oh, I . . . well . . . they . . .”
He was looking at my jeans, where the knees would be (in any ordinary-size legs). “What is wrong with your knees?”
He was looking at me, waiting for an answer. And half smiling.
I said, “It’s just . . . that . . . they . . . are too far . . . up.”
He laughed. “Too far up? Let me feel.”
What????
I got off the wall and started backing away from him.
He said, “Go on.”
I lost control then and said quite loudly, “Forget it. You will never see the knees.”
And then he laughed and I started laughing as well. It was so ridiculous.
Just then Lavinia and Dav and Noos came pootling along on their bikes. They stopped when they saw us. Lavinia said, “Hi, Tallulah. Oiright? Top of the morning to you.”
She looked at Alex properly and you could almost see her eyes going “wow.” He did have the “wow” factor.
Then she said to Alex, “Oh, hi. Sorry to interrupt, I don’t think we’ve met.”
He said, “No, I think I would probably have remembered.”
And she laughed. And looked at him again. Like Honey said you should. Right in the eyes and also for a bit too long.
Oh no. She liked him.
Alex said, “So are you all at Dother Hall? I might be coming up soon, I know Monty and he’s giving me a bit of coaching.”
Noos, clearly impressed, said, “Oh, are you an actor, then?”
Alex said, “I’d like to be, I’ve got a place at Liverpool next year.”
Lavinia said, “I’m surprised you are talking to us, then.”
And she smiled, and Alex said, “Are you?” In a sort of strange meaningful way which I didn’t really get.
Then I got it, because Lavinia said, “Well, come and look for me when you come up to the college. It would be nice to see you.”
And Alex said, “And it would be nice to see you.”
And then there was another pause.
It was like being in Alice in Wonderland again. But I wasn’t Alice. Once more I was the playing card. At the back.
In my squirrel room I lay on my bed with my squirrel slippers on. It seems like a really mean world, where some people get born with average knees and proper corkers and some people can’t even find a category for their head in a magazine. Like me.
I am so miserable.
And alone.
I couldn’t hang around at The Blind Pig watching Alex and Lavinia get off with each other. And the others are all off practicing for their assessment. I should practice as well, but apart from limbering up my knees, what could I do?
I’m hopeless.
I’m hopeless.
I’m going to be on the train home in a few days.
Then I heard the door open and a lot of hooting and noise downstairs.
“Hellllooooo, house. Look, look, boys, the house is happy to see us. Sam, don’t put your tadpoles on the—Oh dear.”
The Dobbinses are back.
I heard a lot of running and scampering and then footsteps up the stairs.
Dibdobs said through the door, “Tallulah . . . helloooo. We’re back. . . . We’ve got lots of things to show you. . . . The boys wanted to say good night to you. Didn’t you, boys?”
I heard them saying, “Eth.”
Dibdobs was wearing a special outfit, knitted out of bits of string. I couldn’t help staring at it.
She sort of blushed. “It’s nice, isn’t it? Unusual.”
I said, “Yes, it is very unusual.”
“Harold made it for me on his Iron Man weekend.”
I should have stopped myself, but I said, “What are Iron Man weekends? Does he go ironing, for the weekend?”
She laughed and snorted. “Lullah is being a silly billy, isn’t she, boys?”
They blinked at me. Max said, “Shitty billy.”
Dibdobs went even more red. “No, darling, it’s SILLY Billy.”
Sam said, “SHITTY Billy.”
Dibdobs manically started stroking his hair down into an even more puddingy style. She said, “No, it’s not an ironing weekend, worse luck!!!! It’s when men go away together to find themselves. In the woods.”
Men finding themselves in the woods, well, why were they having to do that when they must have gone to the woods in the first place? Apparently it’s something to do with sweat lodges and living off the land. I didn’t want the picture of Harold in a sweat lodge in my head.
Dibdobs said, “My dress is mostly made of leftover bits of string.”
Lovely.
I said, “Well, good night, boys.”
And the boys blinked back at me. Max came and hugged one of my knees. I even found myself ruffling his bowl head.
At least he likes my knees.
Dibdobs said, “Are you all right, Tallulah? Are you missing home a bit?”
Actually, I suppose I was, but anyway I was going to be back there soon.
I said, “No, it’s just . . . you know . . .”
She said, “Growing up?”
Oh great balls of fire, was I growing even more?
Dibdobs said to me, “You need a big hug.”
And she gave me one.
Then she said, “We’re going off to read our book, aren’t we, boys? Tell Tallulah who it’s about.”
“Bogie.”
Dibdobs went puce.
“Now, boys, we’ve stopped using that silly word, because we are BIG boys now, aren’t we?”
Max said, “Sjuuge boys.”
Dibdobs laughed nervously. “All right, darling, HUGE boys, and huge boys know that the book we are reading is . . . Alice in Wonderland, isn’t it?”
The boys nodded, and Max said, “Wiv a smiley cat!!”
Dibdobs laughed like he had just built an electricity pylon single-handedly. “Yes, tell Lullah about the Cheshire Cat.”
And both of them smiled at me in the maddest way you have ever seen. Like their whole heads were one big mouth.
As she shooed them away, Sam turned round and took his dodie out. “Sjuuge cat, in Bogie bogie in Wunnerlant.”
About an hour later, I was still tossing and turning and thinking how unfair ev
erything was when there was a knock at my door again. It was my new “dad” this time. Harold had a little book in his hand.
“When I was at the Iron Man camp we did a lot of talking around the campfire. You know, men don’t often get to reveal their softer side. And reading stories to each other as we lay around in the loincloths we had woven was revealing.”
Oh nooo. He wasn’t going to come and read a book to me, was he?
He had a dressing gown on and a pipe.
He fiddled in his pocket. Oh no, was he going to offer me a pipe as well, like they did round the campfire?
He held up the book and said, “Thought you might be interested in this,” and gave it to me. Then he left.
I may as well read it a bit.
I might be able to get some ideas for a performance out of it.
At least it will stop me thinking about Lavinia and Alex—and Cain. The book was called Heathcliff: Saint or Sinner—Really Bad or Just Really Upset?
Oh no. No. This is not going to help me cheer up. I am going to write some of my own stuff in my performanceart notebook.
Hmmmm.
* * *
Two lost travelers are on the moors, near the dreaded Grimbottom, when suddenly a thunderstorm breaks. The rain is pelting down and lightning splits the sky.
They hear something terrible howling (note to self—is it Dr. Light-howler?) and they start running. The howling gets nearer. One of them falls over and then—Gadzooks and Lordy Lordy—they see lights. And hear a piano.
The welcoming lights of an old inn. The sign creaks in the howling wind. A flash of lightning illuminates the sign. On it is a piggy in dark glasses with a walking stick.
They stagger in out of the howling, terrifying storm. Everyone in the bar stops talking and stares at them. The pianist gets his coat and leaves. A clock ticks loudly. A stuffed stag’s head falls off the wall.
One of the travelers, the one with the nobbly knees (me) says, “Oh—hello, we’ve come to Yorkshire by mistake.”
And the landlord with two pies in his hands says, “You’re not from around here, are thee?”
The other traveler, the one with fluffy hair and a sticky-up nose (Vaisey) says, “No, no—we are looking for Dother Hall, we are artists.”
Everyone laughs.
The landlord says, “But are you mime artists?”
I nod, twice.
Withering Tights with Bonus Material Page 8
