Читать книгу The Misadventures of Tallulah Casey 3-Book Collection: Withering Tights, A Midsummer Tights Dream and A Taming of the Tights - Louise Rennison - Страница 18

She laughs in the face of fear

I dreamt all night that I was out on the moors like Cathy after she died. Trying to find Heathcliff. I was singing a special song: “I’m out on the moors, the wild moors.” I’m going to write the lyrics in my notebook.

It took me ages to decide what to wear because you never know when you might bump into, um, someone’s brother. We’ve got our first ballet class today so I need to have leggings and my special ballet shoes.

I am enjoying my special ballet shoes.

Looking at my special ballet shoes in their special ballet shoe box.

And I am enjoying them.

Special ballet shoes.

I put my special ballet shoes on. They feel good.

I feel like doing ballet!

I will improvise a ballet. I will think of being Cathy, flitting about in ballet shoes on the moors, lashed by cruel gales, looking for Alex – I mean, Heathcliff.

I sang from my notebook and danced, danced on the moors:

I’m out on the moors, the wild moors,Let’s roll about in rockpools.

Oh, it gets lonely without you,I hate you, I love you.

It’s Cathy, trying to get in your Windoooooow ow ow ow…

There wouldn’t be a bedside lamp on the moors. But if there was I bet I could find it with my shins.

It was funny not going to meet Vaisey.

Also, to be honest, it meant that I didn’t have an excuse to hope that Alex was about. As I began to walk across the bridge and up the lane to Dother Hall, I was thinking, I bet they all had a pillow fight in the dorm last night and lashings and lashings of ginger beer. And as I was feeling a bit left out I saw Ruby skipping off to her mates. Yes, quite literally skipping. She saw me and shouted, “Oy, squeeze you later!!!”

It was like having a mad little sister. Which I’ve never had before.

And I had nice new friends.

And I had been kissed.

Also my corkers are on the move.

And I’ve still got the chance to do something to impress everyone at Dother Hall.

With my secret hidden talent.

That was secret.

And hidden.

Secretly.

It was a beautiful day, so I thought that I wouldn’t wear my crash helmet on the imaginary Harley. I was riding along with the wind rushing through my hair, but then, nearly at the gates of Dother Hall, my lovely country drive was spoiled. I had to squeal to an imaginary halt because out of a bush jumped Vaisey, Jo, Flossie and Honey.

Vaisey said, “Were you driving your imaginary Harley Davidson?”

I nodded.

Honey said, “Can you give me a wide? I’m weally exthauthted.”

The ballet class was another low spot of embarrassment. When I tell you that the high spot was putting my special ballet shoes on, you’ll get the picture.

Madame Frances hobbled in to her usual chair and adjusted her hot water bottle. “Aaah. The ballet is the only true art. Before I had my accident I…”

I said to the girls under my breath as she rattled on about her bad feet, “Is there anyone in this place who hasn’t had an accident?”

This is the ballet.

We had to point our feet and go up and down. And then put our legs on bars, still pointing our feet, and go up and down. Then we had to hold each other’s legs and go up and down. Pointing our feet. And then we did a bit more pointing and going up and down.

How can that be a good thing?

I said to Flossie, who had had to selloptape her glasses to her head with all the pointy leg business, “When did this get invented? It’s not proper dancing.”

Flossie looked at me, “Lullah, I don’t want to be unnecessarily rude, but I have seen your Irish dancing.”

At the end we had to do jeté which essentially means you leap up in the air with pointy feet.

Honey was really good at ballet. Really elegant and floaty. Even Flossie was good, although I think the sellotaped glasses spoiled the total effect. Jo was good armwise but could only leap about an inch off the ground. When it was my turn, I was pleased because I went higher than everyone. I did it again and then noticed that Flossie and the others looked like they were having a fit.

Flossie said, “It’s just that, it’s just that…”

And then she started laughing uncontrollably.

I said, “It’s just that what? I was leaping quite high.”

Jo said, “I know, I know, the leaping is good – it’s just that when you leap you make a rabbit face.”

Madame Frances was crying into her flask as we went out.

Despite a lot of protests from the girls, I am trying to get them to be in my bicycle ballet at the performance lunchtime. If I’m going to be on the course next term, I am going to have to pull out all the stops.

I said, “And the bicycle ballet might be a truly unforgettable event.”

Jo said, “That is what we are all afraid of.”

First I started with pleading. And saying I would get chucked off the course. And that they would never see my knees again.

Everyone looked at my knees.

I sensed they might be crumbling.

In the end they agreed that they would do the bicycle ballet.

Now all I have to do is to make up the bicycle ballet.

I’m going to go and make notes in my performance art notebook.

The others wanted to know what it’s about.

Aaah.

I said, “Well, the idea is that…not everyone is a ballet dancer…but that all life is art…and beauty can be found in the everyday…stuff”

They still looked a bit puzzled. They weren’t alone.

Vaisey said, “Will there be singing in it?”

I said, “Yes, of course.”

She got interested then.

“Will I be singing in it?”

“Oh, yes.”

“What will I be singing?”

Honey and Jo and Flossie all said, “Why can’t we sing in it?”

I said, “You can – you’re all singing in it!”

Vaisey said, “What are we singing?”

And I said, “Well…it’s the Sugar Plum Fairy…theme song.”

We’re going to rehearse in secret every day. But first we have to find some bikes.

But then fate took a hand in events at Dother Hall.

We were summoned to the hall. There were candles burning and all the blinds were shut. Even though it was a spanking hot day. Then Nessun Dorma began playing, you know, that classical thing they had for the World Cup when even grown men cried.

The house lights were dimmed and Sidone Beaver came out on to the stage in a veil.

A full-length veil. She had something in her hands.

She was moving in a very odd way. Like she had a trolley for her feet.

Bejesus, she did have a trolley for her feet! She was sort of being drawn along on it to the centre of the stage.

Then from underneath her veil Sidone spoke.

“I have here something…that says more than I could ever say in words about one of the finest artistes…it has been my privilege to work with.”

And Sidone held up a pair of ballet shoes.

And that is the world-breaking news. Madame Frances has left and we have a new performance art dance tutor arriving today.

Afterwards we were lolling about on the front steps outside, talking about Madame Frances leaving. I said, “Well, it’s sad of course, but look at it this way…Hurrrrahhhhh!!!”

We had been run run leaping for the best part of a fortnight.

Vaisey said, “What is she called, the new dance teacher? It was sort of like a James Bond name, wasn’t it?”

I said, “Well she can’t be any odder than Madame Frances, I mean—”

At which point an old sports car came hurtling up the drive and stopped in front of us in a shower of gravel. A person dressed entirely in red plastic, with huge goggles leapt out. She took off her goggles and underneath she had another smaller pair.

She said to us, “Just call me Fox. Blaise Fox.”

The weird thing is that I immediately liked Ms Fox. She is undeniably insane. We all agreed on that, but she is, well, I don’t know really.

For our first session with her she walked around looking at us. She had a riding crop in her hand and she said, “I am looking at you and you are looking at me. This is very good. I am looking and I am liking. You are looking and you are thinking, ‘I hope she doesn’t hit me with her crop.’ But that is because I am me and you are you. I am going to show you a film about the work I have done. Don’t be frightened.”