Lula Does the Hula

by Samantha Mackintosh

  At least there was no doubt that I would not be having an embarrassing painting in the exhibition. Tufty would save all wall space for Grace and Delilah. And the next good news for the day . . . Looked like there were no boys for painting class! Fantastic.

  So. Back to painting. What was I doing again? Oh, yeah. Coming up with ideas. Exasperated, I flung my arms up into a big stretch, but rapped my knuckles on a shelf. A blocked canvas dropped off it and landed on my foot. This is the kind of stuff that happens to me. Good thing they’re not heavy. I picked it up and saw it was blank.

  ‘Hmm,’ I said. Grace and Delilah were absorbed in their work. I tiptoed over to the art-supply drawers and pulled out a load of oil paints. Not being sneaky, you understand, just didn’t want to wake our inspired yet exhausted teacher.

  Delilah peeked round her easel. ‘Tatty! What are you doing? He’ll go nuts!’

  ‘I’ve always wanted to try oils,’ I whispered back. ‘Now’s my chance!’

  ‘Tufty says no oils till you can do the acrylics! And you’re the worst of us all!’ Delilah was looking stressed.

  ‘I hate acrylics. Tufty’ll never know,’ I said.

  ‘I have nothing to do with this!’ hissed Delilah. ‘Nothing at all!’

  ‘Oh, Delilah,’ drawled Grace. ‘Tallulah is an oil painter. Can’t you see? Her poor soul has been starved with all the acrylics.’

  ‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘Starved.’ And squeezed out a load of blue paint. ‘So beautiful,’ I murmured to myself. I’d just found the perfect brush and dipped it in when the door slammed open.

  ‘Sorry!’ came a familiar voice from outside. ‘Is this the painting studio?’

  Mr Tufton jolted awake. ‘Quiet!’ he yelled, and shifted around before falling fast asleep again.

  I hurried to the door. ‘Don’t tell me you do painting!’ I said quietly.

  ‘Watch that brush,’ replied Arnold Trenchard. ‘Oil is a devil to get out.’

  I looked at my friend in consternation. ‘You do painting?’

  His hazel eyes sparkled, and I sensed the other girls in the studio appraising his tall lean physique as he slouched in the doorway.

  ‘Well?’ I demanded.

  ‘I do.’

  ‘Frik!’

  ‘Nice, Tatty Lula.’ Arns ran a hand through his tufty auburn hair and raised a dark eyebrow at me. ‘Thanks for the welcome. What’s with the grumpy teacher?’

  ‘Dunno. You coming in?’

  And so it ended up being the best art lesson ever. Arns and me muttering away to each other, stifling giggles, while I swathed blissfully with the oil paint.

  ‘Hey,’ I said at one point. ‘What’s going on at Frey’s? You should know, seeing as how your mama is Sergeant Trenchard, best police officer this hamlet has ever seen.’

  Arnold shrugged. ‘I’ve already told Alex everything I know. That homeless guy cornered some dog-walker, scared the bejeezus out of them, and demanded they get the police up there. He had something he wanted to say.’

  ‘Ooh,’ I said. ‘No wonder Alex is interested.’

  ‘Alex is interested because she wants to show her big cousin Jaaack’ – he drawled my boyfriend’s name and dropped me a sultry wink; I blushed – ‘that she’s just as hot at being a journo as he is.’

  I grinned in reply. Arns was right. He had that uncanny way of knowing people without even knowing them at all, if you know what I mean. Maybe something he got from his mum.

  ‘But there’s another reason the police were up there,’ continued Arns.

  ‘Yeah?’ I mixed more white into the blue and pasted it over what I’d done. Not bad.

  ‘Yeah. Apparently, someone’s gone missing. A girl. You must know? Since Friday night.’

  ‘No!’ Delilah’s voice right at my shoulder made me jump. Her eyes were wide as she stared at Arns. ‘Who? How come this whole village doesn’t know about it?’

  ‘Her parents thought she was away for the weekend, apparently, with a girlfriend. But she didn’t turn up for breakfast this morning, so they rang the friend and she said no, Emily had planned to go to Port Albert with Gavin Healey, that she was just the cover.’

  I heard Grace move out from behind her easel. We all looked at each other across the studio. ‘Seriously?’ said Grace. ‘You’re not having us on?’

  ‘Gavin Healey,’ breathed Delilah. ‘Do you think he’s done something terrible to her?’

  ‘No,’ I said sharply, feeling as if I’d never be able to take a full breath again. My heart was hammering and my hands felt cold and clammy. ‘I’m sure he’s not like that.’

  ‘Who is he?’ asked Grace.

  I told them what I knew, without any mention of Alex. I’m sure I didn’t make much sense because all I could think was that Alex needed to know this – now! – but what would she do when she found out, if she didn’t know already? What kind of person was Gavin Healey? A murderer? Rapist? Abductor? No . . .! I trailed to a finish, my mind a total jumble.

  Arns looked at me intently. ‘I’m sure an announcement will be made in school tomorrow,’ he said. ‘For people to come forward with information.’

  We were quiet for a long time, everyone getting on with what they were doing. It was a lot to take in, someone going missing. Especially in a tiny town like Hambledon.

  In the distance, we heard the final school bell go, and Grace moved round to our easels with casual ease.

  ‘I knew it,’ she said, looking at my canvas. ‘You better put that away to dry, and clean your brushes. A good artist knows when to stop.’

  ‘Hn,’ I said, and stepped back from the easel. She was right. The painting was finished. ‘Cheers, Grace.’

  ‘See you tomorrow,’ she said, and she and Delilah headed out.

  ‘What are you doing now, Lula?’ asked Arns.

  ‘Going to see Jack at the editing suite. He’s back from the city.’ I couldn’t help it. A huge grin flooded my face and I could feel my eyes doing something all sparkly. Arnold winked at me and I blushed. Again. ‘He should be finished the Coven’s Quarter follow-up. And about ready to load it on to the ftp site for Channel 4,’ I added hurriedly.

  ‘You’re going to watch it now?’

  ‘No, silly, with all you lot at his digs later. Remember? Pizza, prime-time viewing?’

  ‘Yeah, yeah. Just checking.’

  ‘You going to get Mona?’

  Arns smiled happily. ‘I am.’

  ‘You guys are cute,’ I said, grinning back at him.

  ‘We are,’ he said. ‘Thanks to you.’

  ‘Yes,’ I said proudly. ‘I am truly amazing.’ I considered him for a moment. ‘So . . . lucky you doing art and Latin with us girls . . . next you’ll be rowing.’ We slung our bags over our shoulders and walked out into bright sunshine, leaving Tufty snoring gently behind us.

  Arns shrugged. ‘Yeah . . .’ he said, and held the gate for me. ‘About that . . .’

  I laughed. Even though Arnold was not the spindly misfit we’d thought him to be, I could not see him hauling oars with seven muscle-bound smelly phlegmsters.

  After a bit of friendly pushing and shoving that actually saw me fall down two steps – mortification! – Arns moseyed off to find Mona at the PSG dorm buildings and I tried to call Alex. No reply. Frik. I texted her:

  Have you heard about Gavin + Emily Saunders? Call me!

  Then I took a deep breath and headed for the journalism department on the Hambledon University campus . . . with a thudding heart and jelly knees that I’m ashamed to say had nothing to do with Gavin Healey and everything to do with Jack de Souza.

  The university campus is quite separate from the rest of town, so it was odd to be in school uniform trudging its trendy streets. I felt a little out of place, even though I’d been coming here to see Mum all my born days. Maybe because I’d never got to know a student before, and now that I did, now that the most gorgeous of them all was my boyfriend, now I felt weird about being a schoolgirl when I came up here.

 
Shaking the feeling off, I pushed through the glass double doors of the journalism department and looked around. It wasn’t busy and no one looked at me strangely. And when I asked a guy where the film-editing suite was, and he told me where to go without batting an eyelid, I wondered why I’d felt uncomfortable. There was a big red light on outside the door, but I pushed it open anyway and stepped into the darkness. Two figures sitting in front of a bank of TV and computer screens, with panels of buttons and keyboards at their fingertips, turned round.

  I recognised Jack’s profile straight away and my stomach lurched in a way that left my insides all shaky.

  ‘Hey, gorgeous,’ he said quietly. ‘Perfect timing. It’s just loading now.’

  ‘Cool,’ I said. I looked around and found a chair near the door. ‘I’ll just wait here.’

  ‘Could be a long wait.’ The voice next to Jack was harsh and abrupt. I remembered it straight away. Jazz. She swung round in her seat to stare at me. ‘This site is a little busy just now. It’s slowed right up.’

  ‘No rush,’ I said, and leaned forward, my hand outstretched. ‘I’m Tatty.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. And though I couldn’t see her eyes looking me up and down in the dark shadows of the suite, I knew her meaning. Jack was head down, tapping away at a keyboard. ‘Thing is,’ said Jazz, ‘maybe it’s better if you wait outside. Could be a little boring in here with us journos.’

  A surge of anger crashed through me. ‘Thing is,’ I said, echoing Jazz’s tone, ‘I don’t find Jack boring at all.’

  Even in the gloom I could see Jazz stiffen with surprise. Good. She thought just because she had a couple of years on me that she was a couple of years smarter? Yeah, right. Bring it on, sister.

  I looked over to Jack, expecting him to laugh with me, or say something to put Jazz in her place, but he was still tapping away. He clearly hadn’t heard our exchange at all. I felt a prickle of unease nudge at me, but I batted it away. Even though Jazz was tiny and beautiful and looked a little like Keira Knightly, I was the one Jack had kissed in the moonlight. It was me he wanted to be with, not Jazz.

  Right?

  Chapter Nine

  Alone with Jack at last

  ‘I can’t believe I’ve just filed my second national news story in the space of a month,’ said Jack, pulling me close as he waved goodbye to Jazz, zooming off campus in her black Golf GTI.

  ‘You’re pretty amazing,’ I replied, punching him lightly on the arm.

  He grinned, shoving his hair behind his ear, still looking at the disappearing GTI.

  ‘You sure you didn’t want to take that lift with Jazz back to your place?’ I glanced at Jack uncertainly. He was wearing a charcoal-coloured T-shirt that fitted closely, very old and faded jeans that hugged him in all the right places and when he looked down at me, and smiled, my heart jumped so hard I nearly stopped breathing. He has the most kissable lips in the world, and the most intense chocolate-brown eyes. I’d like his long black eyelashes for myself, but not his nose, which is a little craggy and just perfect for him.

  He turned into me, his arms linked loosely at my lower back. ‘A lift with Jazz? Now why would I do that?’

  ‘It’s pretty uncool to be seen walking around with a schoolgirl, right?’

  Jack took me by the hand and we started walking to North Road. ‘Oh no you don’t, Tallulah Bird. We’re not going anywhere near that issue.’

  ‘What issue?’

  ‘You know, that I’m a student; you’re a schoolgirl. I just want sex, drugs and loud parties; you need to do homework and turn the lights out at nine. No way.’

  ‘Well . . .’ I slowed down and glanced at his face. ‘Is any of that true?’

  ‘Yes!’ he proclaimed. ‘But not all of it. And, anyway, who cares? I like you and . . . you like me, right?’

  I grinned. ‘Right.’

  ‘I just feel a little disorientated,’ admitted Jack. ‘I’ve been stuck in the city forever, then in that stuffy building all of today and it just feels strange being in the real world again.’

  ‘I bet,’ I said.

  ‘Like,’ said Jack, ‘did Jazz really just say, “Jack, do you want a lift back?”?’

  ‘She did,’ I said.

  ‘She’s going to be so embarrassed when she realises how rude that was, you know, not saying “Jack and Tallulah”.’

  ‘Sure,’ I said. ‘Maybe she just forgot my name.’

  I regretted adding that, because Jack said, ‘That’s it. Yeah. I didn’t introduce you two properly, did I? I guess she’s just feeling a bit out of it too.’

  ‘Hn.’ What I really wanted him to say was: ‘That Jazz is a despicable specimen of humankind! So repulsive! So vile! I never want to set eyes on her or her fantastic zoom lens ever again!’

  Yep. I had a feeling that wasn’t going to happen any time soon. But I wasn’t complaining because instead Jack took my hand and locked his liquefying eyes on mine.

  Then he paused, and his gaze dropped from my eyes to my mouth. He took a step towards me. ‘You’re so beautiful,’ he said, his voice quiet, and I would definitely have laughed out loud at this, but his lips were already brushing against mine, his arms pulling me close. I could feel his heart pounding beneath my hand as the kiss deepened, and my insides melted.

  Oh. Wow.

  When we got to Jack’s place, Jazz’s GTI was under cover at the side of the house. We squeezed past it to get to the back door just under the canopy.

  ‘You don’t go in the front?’ I asked.

  ‘Forest lost the key before we even moved in,’ said Jack.

  ‘Forest?’

  ‘My housemate. Big guy.’

  If Jack was calling someone big, he must be huge, and huge just about sums up Forest Johnson. But not in a fat way. Oh no. All six foot five of his muscled frame was gracefully reclined on a saggy sofa in front of the telly.

  ‘Susie,’ he said as Jack walked over to him. They did a complicated handshake. Forest grinned, his teeth white against his ebony skin. His voice was low and rumbly with a lilt of West African French maybe. ‘I been watching this telly, but nothing. Where you at?’

  ‘Dude,’ said Jack, turning back towards me and the kitchen that opened into the living area. ‘It’s only on at seven, like I said.’

  Forest heaved a deep disappointed sigh. ‘Right. I’ll stop watching, then. This is so depressing. Just a loop playing over and over about some missing schoolgirl.’ His eyes lit upon me. ‘Hey, did you know her?’

  ‘Do,’ I said. ‘I do know her.’ I said to Jack over my shoulder, ‘I can’t believe I forgot to say to you – a girl from Year Twelve has gone missing. Emily Saunders. Did you hear about that?’

  ‘Geez!’ said Jack, frozen in the act of taking out juice from the fridge. ‘Seriously? What do you know?’

  I told the two of them the sketchy details, omitting the info that Alex was dating the guy who was supposed to be away on the weekend with Emily. That was for her to say. I checked my phone – still no reply from Alex – and tried to push it all to the back of my mind, telling myself that Emily was fine. She was an oddball. She probably gave Gavin the boot and took off for some remote me-time. I wouldn’t be surprised. But I kept that to myself too. Jack was pensive, but Forest seemed to shrug it all off. He said, ‘Good thing the coppers around here are halfway decent, eh, Susie? She’ll be okay. They’ll sort it,’ and he unfolded himself from the saggy sofa. When he came to stand next to me in the kitchen, he dwarfed everyone in the room. ‘You must be Tallulah,’ he said to me. I nodded and shook hands. He grinned, then asked Jack: ‘You bring drinks?’

  ‘I knew there was something I forgot,’ replied Jack. ‘Arns is bringing the pizzas with Mona, isn’t he? I should have asked him to bring drinks too.’

  I brightened, and dived into my schoolbag. ‘Actually,’ I said, ‘I brought two cartons of juice. It’s my favourite –’

  A light tinkly laugh came from the living-room side of the kitchen counter. I looked up to see Jazz s
tanding with her hand over her mouth, like she was trying to hide her embarrassment for me, holding up a bottle of champagne. She had changed from her skinny jeans and tiny T-shirt into a plunging halter-neck. And when I walked over I saw that her denim skirt was very, very mini. The worst was that she looked sensational. Her long black hair cascaded down her back and her eyes were beautifully made up. Frikly frokly frak.

  ‘I think the boys will be more interested in the Veuve Clicquot,’ she said to me.

  ‘Not likely,’ said Jack. He took the pomegranate juice from me and unscrewed the lid straight away. ‘I want to be fully compos mentis tonight,’ he said. ‘Save that for later, Jazz.’ He opened a cupboard, pulled out some glasses and began pouring juice.

  ‘Sure, Jack,’ crooned Jazz. ‘Later.’

  It was a serious act of will for me not to narrow my eyes and pull my lips back in a tiger snarl, but Forest must have seen something in my face.

  ‘I hear you’re a special lady,’ he said to me.

  ‘Er . . .’ I replied.

  ‘Jack tells me your grandma was a witch.’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, and Jazz snorted quietly. She’d put the champagne bottle down and was staring at me in a scary psycho way with her arms crossed.

  ‘My mama’s got some voodoo,’ noted Forest.

  ‘Whoa,’ I said. ‘Guess you were a well-behaved kid.’

  He boomed with laughter. ‘You got some witchiness from your grandma?’

  ‘No,’ I said, ‘definitely no.’

  Forest laughed again. ‘That’s what you think, missy. Got to have some magic to pull this guy here.’ He slapped Jack on the back, and Jazz’s face turned to thunder.

  Jack’s grin faded when he caught sight of her expression. ‘Oh, Jazz! I’m sorry – you want some juice too?’ he asked, handing us our glasses.