PLUS his shiny Chanel handbag!
Dear God! Whyyyyyy?
‘Dad! What are you doing here at school?’ I hissed to him once he’d been triumphantly introduced by Mrs Baldacci as our talented tunes man. ‘You should be faaar away! At home! On campus!’
Dad raised his eyebrows and rumpled his rumpled hair. ‘I was just chilling in the staffroom after my Year Ten tutorials. Why are you looking all cross and frantic?’
‘What? You teach here now? Dad?’ Frik! No one in my family ever tells me anything!
‘I started this week. Don’t worry, it’s just on Thursdays, just to help out. The school’s got no funds – they need all the help they can get . . .’ He sat down at the piano and tried a plinky plinky island-stylie riff with a beatific smile at me. ‘La la la-la-la!’ he trilled.
‘No singing!’ I hissed. ‘Please, Dad.’
He sighed in a deeply wounded way that was supposed to make me feel guilty, but so did not. ‘Ohhhkaaaaay, T-Bird.’
Truly. Pathetic.
It was a terrible afternoon. I could tell that Alex was deeply regretting asking me to do dance with her. I was so bad at it. I stepped on all those boys’ toes. Stomped, even. It was just about bearable until Mrs Baldacci yelled my full name at me – ‘TALLULAH BIRD! WILL YOU NOT! PLEASE!’ – there was a little whisper around the room and I could hear the words ‘witch girl’ and ‘dead boyfriend’ and ‘A&E’, and then that was it. No one would dance with me. Not even when Mrs B shook weird instruments at them, like the upi. Not even with upi shaking going on.
Dad was a bit taken aback by all of this. I could tell. I could feel waves of sympathy rolling across the hall from the piano, and it made everything much worse. If I was tense before, now I was past tense. I couldn’t think straight, couldn’t dance straight, was in dire straits.
I was about to publicly resign from the whole debacle, in front of my father, and face the wrath of Mrs B and all that it would entail, but then there was a little miracle.
Jack.
Yep, that’s right.
He just appeared. Like some kind of knight in shining armour, or a cinematic hero, or, let’s face it, drop-dead gorgeous Greek god.
There was a crash of the hall doors opening and there he was. A uni student on school premises. It had never been done before.
‘Hey!’ he called, catching sight of my misery-stricken face before I could change my expression.
Dad’s hands stayed on the keys, and the music ebbed away.
‘Who are you, tall boy?’ yelled Mrs Baldacci.
Jack was about to say something, anything, but she was already issuing orders. ‘Get over here and dance with the rhythmless one. You are late, you must suffer.’
‘Nice,’ breathed Jack, coming straight over to stand in front of me. ‘But look! This is fate! We were meant to be together!’
‘What are you doing here?’ I whispered, my cheeks all fiery. ‘Are uni students even allowed on school premises?’
‘I have information that could not wait,’ he twinkled back. ‘Is that your dad at the piano?’
‘Yes.’ Unfortunately, no time for conversation. Step one two, step one two and twiiirl – ‘Hey!’ I exclaimed in delight.
‘Aha! We have breakthrough!’ announced Mrs B. ‘At last the girl can dance. Maybe . . . maybe is the beautiful partner.’ She swept Jack a deep curtsey and he swung into a graceful bow.
‘Oh, don’t,’ I said, but I was trying not to laugh.
‘Quiet down,’ said Jack, still smiling at Mrs B, ‘or I won’t kiss you later.’
‘Frik!’ No laughing now. ‘Did we not discuss’ – I could hear my own voice getting shrill – ‘that my father is right here? In this room? Playing the piano and listening to you get flirty?’
‘I am brave,’ consoled Jack. ‘And you’re paranoid. I’m speaking incredibly quietly.’
‘Still,’ rumbled my father, his back to us as he picked out a pretty tune, ‘your incredibly quiet voice is not quite quiet enough, Jack de Souza.’
But I could tell Dad didn’t mind, and that actually he was pleased I was getting the hang of the hula. I could also tell he liked Jack, and, frankly, who wouldn’t.
‘Thank you,’ I whispered as we did a tricky move to the front and then to the back.
‘For what?’
‘For turning up just at the right time. I wish you could hula with me at the luau too.’
‘Mmm.’ Jack smiled across at me, then his face turned serious. ‘I’m probably going to be filming the race, and doing interviews, and . . .’
‘Okay,’ I sighed.
‘I know, not great, but you won’t dump me, right?’ He was grinning at me, the perfect smile, and though his fringe had flopped over most of his eyes I could still see he was gazing at my lips. My stomach flipped and I lost count of the moves, turning left instead of right so that my arm spun out and caught a Hambledon boy in the sternum.
‘Oof!’ went the boy, winded, his eyes rolling.
‘I’m so sorry!’ I gasped, making a grab for him, but to no avail. He fell back hard, tumbling Alex in the process, though she had a soft landing – only because she fell on him, obviously.
‘Raymond’s down!’ someone near the back shouted out.
Alex rolled off the boy and we both crouched over him, Dad’s music still lilting away in the background.
‘He’s not breathing,’ announced Alex, leaning close.
‘Wha–?’ gasped everyone onstage, immediately looking at me with scared and staring eyes.
Oh no. Not this again. ‘He’s not breathing because he’s winded,’ I said, giving Alex a slitty-eyed look. ‘Geez. Anyone would think I’d killed him.’
Immediately, of course, a whispering started up and I just know I heard witch girl and no good can come of this and similar stuff all echoing around the hall.
Mrs Baldacci came hurrying over. ‘Raymond? Raymond? Get up. This is not a football pitch. We dancers are tough stuff.’
Raymond’s eyes flickered, he hauled in a juddery breath and I leaned back abruptly. ‘He’s coming round. Give him space, Alex. Otherwise next thing you know he’ll be needing the kiss of life and Gavin wouldn’t be happy with that.’
Alex stood hurriedly, dusting her knees and turning towards our dancing teacher. ‘He’s all right, Mrs Baldacci. He’s okay!’
‘Good! Good!’ she replied, changing course for the piano. ‘Could we take it from the beginning, please, Professor Bird?’
Professor Bird gave a her genial nod, and winked at me as I took up position next to Jack who, I have to say, had been having a fit of the giggles.
‘Oi,’ I said. ‘Stop that. You’re laughing like a girl.’
‘And you hit like a boy,’ he replied, adding, ‘Raymond’s never going to take a full breath again,’ as the two of us dissolved into silent laughter.
‘Maybe it’s for the best that you’re working at the regatta,’ I whispered. ‘You distracting me is no good for anyone.’
Thursday evening at Big Mama’s: me, Tam, Alex, Carrie, Arns and Mona
After hula hell, we headed straight for the Carusos’ café, though Jack had to head back to campus. The information that could not wait was only that he couldn’t see me this weekend. Siiiigh.
Tam, Arns and Mona were already there, waiting for us. Gianni came over to our table with his pen and paper at the ready, all swagger, though his smile at Tam was shy. When he saw me, he burst into song: ‘Are you lonesooooome toniiiiight! Do you –’
‘You should be ashamed!’ I retorted. ‘People our age are not supposed to know Elvis.’
‘Where is Jack?’ asked Tam.
‘Working,’ I said, ‘and he’s away again this weekend.’
‘We’ve got to go to our gran’s,’ explained Mona. ‘She’s not very well.’
We were about to commiserate, but Gianni bounced up, bearing one small plate only with an exquisite piece of something vanilla-ish on it.
‘I bring-a you most b
eautiful cake-a,’ said Gianni to Tam, his eyes going all soft and shiny.
‘Pukerama,’ said Alex. ‘Really.’
But she winked at Gianni as we all ordered, to make sure he didn’t spit on her cake.
‘So what’s the deal behind Parcel Brewster’s demise?’ asked Tam. ‘Who could possibly want him dead? What possible motive?’
‘Oh, pick one,’ I said. ‘Maybe Parcel saw someone abducting Emily, so he had to be taken care of. I reckon that’s it.’
‘No,’ said Alex. ‘Gav had a call from Sergeant T saying he’s definitely off the hook. That Emily is with her grandparents.’
‘Yes?’ I asked, interested. This news had not reached school.
‘Yes,’ said Alex firmly. ‘Julie Saunders found a message on voicemail last week already saying she was okay, that she was at Tide’s Up, her grandparents’ cottage.’
Mona shook her head. ‘Wow. Mum would kill me if I ever worried her like that.’
‘Well,’ replied Carrie, ‘it turns out Emily is apparently always going off somewhere.’
‘Now Parcel,’ said Alex. ‘Maybe he saw the poisoning. Maybe that’s why he was done away with.’
‘We don’t know there was poisoning up there,’ said Tam.
We all looked at our friend in stunned amazement.
Alex was the first to speak. ‘Tam! Where have you been? It must have been poisoning because now the labs are saying the bird flu verdict was all a “mistake”.’ She made quote marks in the air with her fingers. ‘They can’t find any trace of bird-flu there now, and they can’t retest old samples because they’ve all disappeared.’
‘Again you keep me out of the loop!’ wailed Tam. ‘Again!’
Carrie patted her kindly. ‘Why pretend there’s bird flu, though?’ she asked the rest of us.
‘To give them time to get rid of the evidence,’ I said, before I could think not to.
‘What evidence?’ asked Tam.
‘The evidence of the poisoning,’ said Arns.
‘What’s the motive for the poisoning?’ I asked.
A gravelly voice came from doorway. ‘You lot are talking in circles. I’ve only heard the last part of this complicated conversation, and already my head is spinning.’
‘Mr K!’ I raised my hand in a salute and he winked back, hanging up his coat and fedora and coming over.
‘So what came first,’ he asked, ‘the poisoning or the murder?’
‘The poisoning, then the murder,’ said Alex decisively. ‘It was all plotted out before. The area would be declared a no-go zone while the body rotted away.’
‘Why kill Parcel?’ asked Mona.
‘Well,’ said Alex grimly, ‘Cluny would not have been able to sell the land if there’d been a squatter on it.’
‘He wants to sell?’ asked Tam. ‘How do you know this? Why don’t I know this?’
‘Because you’re too busy kissing me-a,’ proclaimed Gianni, back with more plates.
‘EEEEEEE!’ I shrilled in scandalised delight.
To be honest, I don’t think Gianni would have said anything if he’d known how we’d all go on – there was SQUEAKING and SQUAWKING and entirely too much noise for a coffee shop in Hambledon.
Tam, totally cerise, said, ‘Well, I had to get in with someone who’ll tell me what’s going on in Hambledon!’
‘That’s not-a why you love me,’ said Gianni, serving hot drinks with a flourish. ‘It’s a-cos I’m –’
‘Italian stallion?’ finished Carrie, and we all dissolved into snorty laughter. We were giggling so hard at Gianni’s discomfit that we couldn’t hear his retort as he turned on his heel and left.
‘He won’t come back now,’ mourned Tam.
‘Just eat your cake,’ I advised. ‘Before I do.’ Tam lifted her fork hurriedly. ‘So, squatters’ rights. That’s a biggie. Is it really true?’
‘Indeed,’ said Mr Kadinski. ‘Brewster would have had legal right to remain, so Cluny would have had great difficulty selling that area. And he does need to release capital, doesn’t he? Hmm. Squatters’ rights. Didn’t even think of that. Was all caught up in the witness theory.’ He tipped back in his seat, staring thoughtfully at the ceiling.
‘Well, there you go,’ said Alex triumphantly. ‘Now we just have to prove it.’
‘What, that Mr Cluny is a murderer?’ Tam was outraged. ‘No way!’
‘Maybe it wasn’t Cluny, as such,’ I wondered out loud, thinking of my previous misadventures. ‘Maybe it’s someone who knows Cluny will sell to them if he could . . .’
‘You’re making my head hurt,’ said Mona.
‘Leave it to Lula,’ suggested Tam. ‘And eat the cake. It takes you to a happy place.’
But it seems cake does not take Mona to a happy place. She picked at it delicately, and I wondered what the point of having a fantabulous bodacious body was, if you couldn’t EAT.
The high point of the evening was definitely the arrival of Jack. The best kind of surprise . . .
‘Hey,’ he drawled, pulling me out of my seat, and then hugging me back on to his lap. ‘Any cake left?’ I couldn’t speak: my lips were smiling too widely to move.
Alex lifted an eyebrow. ‘Do you not know Tallulah Bird?’ she asked with heavy irony. ‘Her cake was gone the second we all lifted our forks.’
‘It’s true,’ I admitted, still grinning like a crazy person. ‘Sorry. I didn’t know you were coming. I thought –’
At that moment the bell on the door jangled and in came someone small and gorgeous and beautifully dressed in clothes too skimpy for this time of year. For any time of year. For anyone. ANYWHERE.
‘Hi, Jack,’ she trilled. ‘I see Talluley’s got my spot.’
My jaw clenched and I’m afraid my nostrils flared of their own free will. I couldn’t help it. But Jack didn’t notice. He just laughed good-naturedly and said, ‘So, what’s the news, Jazz?’
‘Ohh, you’ll need to come with me to hear all that,’ twinkled Jazz.
‘Come on, Jazz,’ said Jack, still smiling. ‘This lot probably know more than you do. Spill the beans.’
I felt all warm and cosy inside, and on the outside too, with Jack’s arm round me, but Jazz clearly did not. Her eyes narrowed for just a second before she said, with defiance: ‘I’ve got the coroner’s report.’
Alex gasped. ‘No way!’
‘The police don’t even have that yet,’ said Arns.
‘I know,’ smirked Jazz. ‘Bruising on the neck and head –’
‘Oooh!’ went Mona.
‘But no clear trauma to indicate a homicide.’
‘Ahhh,’ went Jack.
‘Death by drowning,’ concluded Jazz.
‘Hmmm,’ was the reply, from all of us, even though us girls didn’t want to give Jazz the satisfaction, and then everyone was quiet. Parcel Brewster had kept to himself, but even those that hadn’t known him didn’t like to think of him dying like that, all alone and helpless. I was thinking about the autopsy, and adding it to the conversation Jack and I had overheard up at Frey’s Dam in the dead of night. There must have been a scuffle, and Parcel either fell, hurting himself badly before rolling into the water and drowning, or they held him under . . . It didn’t bear thinking about.
‘May he rest in peace,’ said Tam with a sigh.
‘I’ll be a whole lot more peaceful if I know how he went,’ said Carrie.
‘Well, because things are so inconclusive, they’re going to get a second opinion on the autopsy,’ said Jazz. ‘Plus they’re going to re-examine the crime scene.’
‘When will that be?’ asked Jack, meeting my eye.
Jazz shrugged, unwilling to admit there was something she didn’t know.
Mr K was still staring at the ceiling, his hands behind his head, a toe tapping quietly. ‘Interesting,’ he murmured.
He would have said more, I’m sure, but the bell on the door jangled wildly and we all turned to look. There stood Pen, with Boodle pushing ahead of her on a short leash. B
ehind her was Fat Angus and he was carrying a box.
‘Hi, everyone,’ said Pen, smiling sweetly at my friends. Me, she did not smile at. Me, she glared at. Over she stomped.
I sensed this was not going to go well. ‘Hi, Pen!’ I said.
‘Hi, yourself,’ she hissed, coming round the back of my chair.
I kept a wary eye on her.
‘What’s up?’ I asked.
‘My bliddy dog won’t go anywhere without your bliddy duck! It’s pathetic! Everywhere I go I have to carry the dumbass box. With the dumbass duck. I’m not doing it any more. Today you have duck and dog. Angus and I need time alone!’
‘You have a duck?’ asked Jack, astonished. ‘Lula, is that –’
‘Uh . . .’ I said, thinking furiously. ‘Just give me a few minutes, Pen! You can’t leave household pets in a café!’
‘I can and I will!’ she muttered, dropping Boodle’s lead right there on the floor. ‘Put the box down, Angus,’ she commanded.
Angus put the box down gingerly on the table. Biggins stretched his neck over the edge of the box and went ‘cheeep’ longingly at the condensation on Jack’s smoothie.
‘Oh no, you don’t,’ I said to Pen. ‘Oh no no no no, you don’t!’
‘Sayonara!’ said Pen, drawing a Z-shape in the air, with a waggle of her head and hips. ‘Angus, come!’ Out she strutted, Angus shrugging and mouthing ‘sorry!’ behind her. The bell jangled, and all was quiet. I half-stood to make a grab for Boodle’s lead and saw Mrs Caruso hurrying over.
‘Did your sister just leave her big hairy dog here in my café?’ asked Mrs Caruso.
‘She did,’ I said, with a look across at Tam. Tam’s eyes went very big.
‘And the duck in a box?’ asked Mrs Caruso. ‘She left that too?’
‘Yes,’ I ground out.
‘Oh, boy,’ said Arns. ‘You about done, Mona?’
‘Don’t rush me, love-love,’ she replied, taking another tiny mouthful of cake.
‘The dog and the duck are here to stay,’ said Arns with meaning. ‘Here in the café. There’s going to be a disaster.’
‘I’m done,’ announced Mona, hurriedly leaping from her chair, snatching up her bag.
‘What dog and duck?’ asked Gianni, struggling under a tray of glasses and the biggest jug of water I’ve ever seen.
Lula Does the Hula Page 16
