Читать книгу A Midsummer Tights Dream - Louise Rennison - Страница 6

The next day I woke up to the pitter-pattering of light hail on my window. It’s nine o’clock but still so dark it could be night-time. I got out of my snuggly squirrel bed and had a look out of the window. Brrrr. This is the life, minus 50 degrees. There is a slight frost on the window. On the inside. When I rubbed it away I could see that even the sheep are huddling together for warmth.

And they are practically walking jumpers.

I don’t know what to wear. Something cosy but glam. Thick tights and my new short green wool skirt, black top and new leather over-the-knee boots?

And a hat so that the hail can’t take all the bouncy bounce out of my hair.

I don’t want the Tree Sisters to think I have let myself down.

When I was fully togged up, I went downstairs into the kitchen.

Even though it is Antarctic conditions, the Dobbins have left a note to say they have gone out on their Earth Sky walk with the young Christian table tennis team. They were sorry I was missing it. Well, they are on their own there!

I had a crumpet and some honey and milky coffee. The honey is local of course. Harold is obsessed with local produce. I bet he knows the bees by name. And has made them little winter cloaks like his. And is paying their tuition fees to Bee Academy. So they can better themselves and get out of the worker bee trap.

Oooooh, I am so excited my legs are wiggling around for no reason. They are uncontrollable. They might calm down when I shove them in my boots.

It feels great to have proper friends and to be on the brink of being a showbiz legend. Or, well, being on the course.

I know it’s childish but I wanted to dance and sing with pleasure. I only wish I could do either.

I feel soooo lucky to be here.

Anything goes in the crazy world of the-atre dahling. I might be discovered and asked to be Maria in The Sound Of Music in the West End. That would make Alex know I was proper girlfriend material, and not some little girl with nobbly knees.

I can imagine myself in the Swiss Alps actually. In a big flouncy dress dancing with goats. “The hills are alive with the sound of music… lalalala… with songs they have sung for a thousand years…”

I got bundled up in my coat and hat and left the house. I had to walk slightly bent because there was a mini gale blasting across the moors and fields. But at least it had stopped hailing.

The sheep were still huddled together against the wind.

Looking at me.

I shouted to the sheep. “I love you, my little woolly friends.”

They didn’t like it. They didn’t want to be my friends. They wanted to be my unfriends. They shuffled off as a group and tried to get in the hedge. And looked at me from there.

They are very cross-eyed.

Maybe it is so they can see round corners?

That would be handy if there were wolves creeping up behind you.

Hang on, your eyes should go outwards to do that, not inwards so that you just see your own looming nose. How useful would that be?

Anyway, I can’t be bothered about the animal kingdom, I am too busy being in a good mood. I’m going to do run-run-leap to The Sound of Music to keep me warm. Run, run, leap… “The hills are alive with the sound of…”

Oh great balls of fire. Leaning against the gate of the churchyard, like a great dark crow, was him. The Dark Force of Heckmondwhite. The Black Hearted Prince himself. Cain.

Cain Hinchcliff.

He was dressed all in black, a long black coat and black boots. He had his collar turned up against the wind. His hair is longer than when I last saw him. And it looks even blacker. He saw me, so I stopped leaping and started pretending that my boots were falling down. A half-smile crossed his face. Not a nice beamy smile, a dark twisty smile. He pushed his hair back and looked me right in the eyes. His eyes are so black you can’t tell what he is thinking. I know what I am thinking, I am thinking, “Oh, banana skins and bejesus, he’s seen me leaping, and talking to sheep.”

Cain licked his lips like a hungry wolf and said, “Well, well, well… it’s the young Southern lass back.”

Then he ran his eyes up and down my body and said, “Tha’s grown a bit.”

Oh, how bloody well dare he?! How could he see through my coat? Maybe he had x-ray vision. What colour pants had I got on? Oh stop it, of course he couldn’t see through my coat and see my pants. He was just being him. Rude and crude and horrible.

If I had my handbag I would hit him with it. I only had my hat or my mittens and that didn’t seem nearly violent enough.

He was like an animal in trousers.

As the wind plucked at his hair and whipped it round his face, I remembered the last time I had seen him. It was in the barn and he was poking the owlets with a little stick.

All dark, with his dark broody eyes. And his black hair. And his long black eyelashes.

He’s not good like Alex. Good and tall and brown-haired Alex. With his frilly shirt and his eyes and so on… he’s…

He was still just staring at me.

He doesn’t seem to know that staring is rude.

Well, two can play at that game.

I stared back.

And I’m not going to blink either. That will show him.

Then he stopped staring and came towards me and did up-close staring. His face was only about a foot away from mine.

Looking right in my eyes.

He said, “Tha’s got eyes like a wild cat.”

I could out stare him any day.

Any day.

It suddenly started to hail quite heavily. I could hear the pattering and bouncing on my hat. I could see the hailstones on his dark hair, hanging there like handfuls of pearls. He didn’t seem to notice. Just went on staring right into my eyes. Then I felt a hailstone hit my face. It didn’t just ping off, it started slipping slowly down the middle of my forehead. Then it got to my eyebrows and I thought it had gone. But then I felt it start slipping down the side of my nose, like a tear. I went on staring, he was not going to win this staring competition. I could feel the hailstone had just got to my nostril when… still staring at me…

He did this thing.

He stepped right up to me, so I nearly went cross-eyed trying to keep staring and… then he licked his lips and put his tongue out and… and…

And he LICKED off the hailstone.

He was licking my nose. I could feel his hot, soft tongue on my nose.

And he was staring at me while he did it.

What? What?!

This wasn’t right.

This wasn’t even on Cousin Georgia’s snogging scale.

This was just wrong.

Very, very wrong.

Then a girl’s voice behind him shouted, “Oy, Cain. What’s tha doing? I’ve been waiting by the bike shed like tha said for half a bloody hour.”

He was licking my face!

Like I was an ice cream!

I nearly said, “I am not an ice cream! I am a human being!”

He said softly to me, “Tasty.”

Then he took a step back and turned around slowly. Behind him I saw Beverley approaching. Cain turned back to me and smiled his mean smile. Then he chucked his teeth like you do when you say giddy-up to a horsie. As he swished his coat round and walked off up the hill towards the moors I could see that Beverly didn’t look pleased to see me.

She didn’t say, “Gosh, how nice to see you again, Tallulah, on this inclement morning.” She just stood with her arms folded looking at me. Had she seen the licking incident? Even though it was hailing, she only had on a short-sleeved jumper.

She had very big arms. Very big. Her dad had a potato farm so she probably did quite a bit of heavy lifting. Maybe if I said something nice to her, you know like, “Ooooh, your arms are a… good… shape,” she might not hurt me.

Cain kept on walking up the hill while she stood there looking at me.

Cain called back, “Beverley, is tha coming wi’ me or are tha going to stand there gabbing all day?”

Beverley went after him but turned back and said in a loud mean voice, “You and your posh stuck-up mates keep your hands off our lads… or else. Think on.”

I was thinking of something to say when Cain whistled and his big black dog came bounding over the hedge with a rabbit in its mouth. Every time I saw Cain something died. Cain gave the dog a brief pat on its head and said, “Good Dog. You’ve got our supper then.”

Beverley was still chuntering on as she caught up with them. She said to Cain, “You treat that dog better’n than tha treats me.”

Cain said, “Beverley, the dog can fetch sticks, it can catch rabbits… it dun’t moan on. Can you do that? No.”

He was unbelievable.

I was so shocked at the nose-licking incident I was unable to move. As they disappeared off over the brow of the hill, Rubster came running along her pigtails going berserk. Matilda was running alongside her and tried to stop when she saw me but the momentum of her tummy made her go past me and collide with the hedge.

Ruby panted, “Were that Cain with Beverley? Uh-oh, he likes trouble that lad, Beverley’s mum will be on the warpath big time if she finds out.”

I didn’t say anything to Ruby. What was there to say? Cain has just licked my face? I must never think of it again. I must put it out of my mind and think only of my letter from Alex. Alex the Good, who would never lick a girl’s face.

We got to the bus stop just as it came careering round the corner. Hurrah!!!! I was so excited about seeing my chums. The bus juddered to a stop and the door opened and… Jo jumped off! All little and dark and excited. With her dark eyes gleaming. Like a human conker, but with legs and arms. And a head. She hadn’t changed. Still as mad as a hen. A violent hen. She ran and punched Ruby’s arm, and then mine, and then both at the same time. She was yelling, “TALLULAH! THE RUBSTER!”

Vaisey was smoothing her red curls as she came down the steps. She looked at me as she got her rucksack down and smiled a little shy smile. Oh, I had missed that turny up nose and freckles and that roundy waggly bottom (and the other bits in between) I ran over and hugged her to me, and then she hugged me and Ruby going “Oh, Lullah, Lullah and little Ruby!!”

And a tear came out of the corner of her eye. She was saying, “Oh, oh, oh.” And jumping up in little jumps. Jo was running round and round us in circles and Matilda was following her.

Flossie was last off. Blimey, I think she might have grown. Her fringe has. It is down to the middle of her glasses so that you can’t see if she’s got a forehead.

She gathered us all in a big bear hug. The comrades together again. A feast of talent! Our tights runneth over.

Flossie said, in a deep Texan accent, which is weird as she’s from Blackpool, “Why, y’all, here we damned are – the Tree Sisters and li’l old Ruby-Mae, back again at the old corral!!! This calls for a damn special celebration dance, let’s show these here people our rootin’ tootin’ dance. Come on, Lullah-Mae, we’ll do the tune.”

So I did it.

I did the thing that I can do.

My special talent.

I did my spontaneous Irish dancing.

And as I flung my legs around with gay abandon my thespian chums sang, “Hiddly diddly diddly diddle.”

That well-known Irish song that no one has ever heard of because it doesn’t exist.

Happy days.

I felt once more the golden slippers of applause.

Cain Hinchcliff will not be spoiling my life.

In fact, I will never be thinking about him again.

With his nose-licking ways.

Why would he do that? Why.

Bob the technician from Dother Hall was coming to pick the girls up in his Bobmobile, so we had time to swap news before he arrived. We went and sat on the wall next to The Blind Pig while Rubes went in for nourishing, warming winter snacks. It’s handy having a little pub friend.

Oooh, it’s good to be back. It had stopped hailing and we snuggled into our coats for a goss.

Vaisey is looking forward to seeing Jack again, her maybe boyfriend.

She said, “He gave me his plectrum to remind me of him.”

I said, “That’s plucky of him.”

And they all laughed. Which is nice. I felt all warmy. Even my knees. Rubes came back with the nourishing snacks – cheese and onion crisps, salt and vinegar crisps, two pickled eggs and some pork scratchings. It was like being in heaven.

Flossie said, “This is my plan for the term – I am going to become a superstar and have three or four boyfriends. I’ve grown my fringe especially.”

Jo was chomping through two packets of crisps at the same time, but managed to say, “I’ve had loads of letters and phone calls from Phil!! Loads. Every day. He told me about his campaign to let people know that he’s not all bad and that he has a serious side.”

We looked at her.

I said, “But he doesn’t have a serious side.”

Jo got a bit defensive. “He has, actually, he’s joining in with the police to help them… with the out-of-control yoof.”

I said, “He IS the out-of-control yoof.”

Flossie said, “Help the police? What, like an informer?”

Jo went red. “No, it’s a campaign. Make a policeman your friend. It’s to let the police know that teenage boys are people too.”

I said, “But that’s a lie, isn’t it? My brother isn’t a person.”

Flossie said, “I’m not being rude or anything, but what could Phil help the police with?”

Jo said, “Phil’s good at loads of things.”

We looked at her.

Jo said going even redder, “Well, he’s really excellent at… erm… kissing.”

I said, “That’s not what policemen like, is it though? They don’t like being kissed by teenage boys.”

Flossie said, “If he’s going around kissing policemen, he’s a dead man.”

As we chomped away, thinking about kissing policemen, three very big girls I had never seen before came lumbering up. They looked at us like we were snot girls, then they sat on the wall at the other side of The Blind Pig courtyard and started chewing gum.

Ruby said quietly, “Oh, bloody hell, it’s the other Bottomley sisters, Chastity, Diligence and Ecclesiastica.”

I started to laugh.

“Ecclesiastica? Does she get called Eccles for short?”

Ruby said, “No. Dun’t start, they’re bible names and they don’t think it’s funny. The Bottomleys dun’t think owt is funny, except fighting. In between bus driving, their mam does cage fighting in Leeds.”

Chas, Dil and Eccles, as I called them (quietly in my brain), were looking at us and then they lit up fags.

I whispered out of the corner of my mouth, “Are they going to get their pipes out next?”

One of them shouted across, “What are you stuck-up madams looking at?”

Oh dear.

Ruby said, “That’s Ecclesiastica, you’re lucky she’s in a good mood.”

Mr Barraclough came out of The Blind Pig and said to Ruby, “Rubes, say night-night to the thespians, it’s school tomorrow.”

The Bottomley sisters started laughing and going, “Oooooohhh, it’s SCHOOL t’morra. Say night-night.”

Mr Barraclough glanced at the Bottomley sisters and said, “Hello, ladies.” Then he turned to go off into the pub.

Ecclesiastica drew on her fag and said, “Ay up, grandad.”

Ruby sat down and said, “Oh, well, that’s done it.”

There was a bit of a quiet moment, then Mr Barraclough turned around and said to Ecclesiastica, “Is my wall comfortable enough for your enormous arse, dear? Or is it time you took it somewhere else?” And the other two sisters sniggered. Eccles went a sort of dull red colour but she didn’t move, she just kept looking at Mr Barraclough.

He said, “Well, I’ve tried to be nice, but I can see I will have to go the whole hog.”

Ruby said, “Dad. Not the…”

He looked at her sorrowfully. “I’m as sorry as you are, Ruby, but it has to be done.”

Ted went into the pub and came back a moment later with his Viking helmet on and a photograph. He came and showed it to us. It was the picture of him with a gun standing on a pile of pies. Underneath it said, Ted Barraclough, champion pie eater. 22 steak and kidney, 4 pork.

Then he walked across and showed it to the Bottomley sisters, and said to them, “Have some respect, girls. Thy father only ate ten pies and then had to go and have a bit of a lie down, so bog off somewhere else.”

The Bottomley sisters looked at him and then they got up and sloped off.

Ted went back into the pub singing, “I am the king of hell fire!!! PIES, I’m gonna teach you to burn. PIES, I’m gonna teach you to learn!!”

I went to bed happy after seeing the Tree Sisters. But I gave my nose a good scrub in case any of Cain’s molecules had got into it. And besides, I am sleeping on Alex’s letter and don’t want to besmirch it.