Читать книгу The Taming Of The Tights - Louise Rennison - Страница 10

Monty was our tutor for the afternoon. He bustled in. “Hello, hello, girls!!! Happy days!!! Le Show RE-commence!!!”

He was wearing a tartan suit and pink waistcoat. The waistcoat was hanging on round his tummy for dear life. Just by one button.

He went to sit down on his chair but then paused and took to standing and leaning against his desk. I suspect the spirit was willing to sit down, but the suit wasn’t.

He was beyond himself with enthusiasm. His chubby hands clapped together in delight.

“Girls, I am THRILLED, absolutely thrilled about the project this term. Shakespeare’s The Taming of the Shrew, the Bard’s masterpiece about the battle of the sexes. Of course this is often misunderstood as a battle between a man and a woman.

“For the more artistic and creative soul like myself it can of course be interpreted as the battle between our masculine and feminine parts. As a man, I, of course, have a delicate female part hidden. And you girls have a secret male part hidden in a secret place.”

Flossie said, “Is he saying I have a goddam man lurking about in my dance tights?”

Jo said, “You might have. Monty definitely looks like he’s got more than one person in his suit.”

And we began laughing uncontrollably. It didn’t matter though because Monty was off in Italy with his mates.

“I first saw The Shrew as a young man in a nightclub production in Italy. Ah, gilded youth! Biffo and Sprogsy, my great pals, were with me. It was our first trip abroad and we didn’t know it was an all-male production. The boy in the part of Kate was most convincing. The Italians are much more at ease with finding their Inner Woman.”

Monty got us to discuss what we thought ‘Being a Woman’ meant.

Flossie said, “Well, ah don’t rightly know if ah could say, sir, maybe ah could show you …” And she started her Southern belle routine, sashaying around the room.

Monty clapped his pudgy hands. “Marvellous, marvellous, Flossie. I know, girls, let’s go with physical expression to feel our way into the mood. Let’s pursue Flossie’s idea of being a spoilt Southern belle! I’ll start.”

At the very last bell, Sidone burst into the classroom.

She was a vision in fur.

Well, she was in fur.

I don’t know what kind of animal is purple.

She leaned against the door, panting.

Monty flung his arms wide. “Girls, girls, here we have it, before us, Woman!!!”

Sidone blew kisses to us all individually which went on for quite a long time, then said, “So sorry, my dears, not to be here to welcome you back, but the Blubberhouses ladies were very demanding. Such big, big women. The poles will have to be replaced of course.

“Anyway, I wanted to be here to welcome you, but such is life. In order to keep Dother Hall going sometimes I must rent my services out to amateur groups. I do it willingly, of course, but the headaches are quite violent afterwards. But … what do I matter??? It is you, my dears, who are the hope for the future. I am just a dim light from the past, blinking in the firmament of you bright little starlets.”

Monty leapt in. “Nay, nay, madam, you remain the brightest light, the brightest!”

Sidone tinkled with laughter and shook her head at him. “Too kind. And yet perhaps I still have some of the old skills.”

She suddenly did a high kick which only just missed Monty’s chin. He was ecstatic and clapped like a seal in a suit.

I noticed Sidone was holding her leg as she said, “Girls, here are your instructions for tonight, your FIRST night of many first nights, if you will excuse the theatrical pun.”

Which we did because we had no idea what she was talking about.

She handed us each an envelope.

“Open it this evening and bring your ideas for Ms Fox tomorrow. Till then, my dears, my dearie dears.” Kissing her hands, she withdrew from the room.

I said to Flossie, “Did you think she was limping slightly as she went out?”

We were all tired at the end of the day. The Tree Sisters gave me a hug and went off for supper and a lie-down. Flossie said, “If Bob hasn’t burned our beds for firewood.”

I wish I could just have my dinner and pop upstairs instead of trailing all the way into the village. Even though the Dobbins are nice.

When I got to the village I kept my eyes peeled for the Bottomleys, but they weren’t around. I saw Ruby bundled up in her coat on the doorstep of The Blind Pig with Matilda. They both looked glum.

I said, “What’s up, Rubes?”

She said, “Me dad went spare, we have to stay out of his sight. I can’t have any tea and when he’s had his, I have to go straight to bed. All because Matilda chewed his Viking helmet. She thought it was a hoofy snack.”

I said, “That’s bad, little pal.”

I sat down beside her and Matilda put her sad, crumpled-up face on my knee.

“Maybe we could go and have a proper look for little Lullah and …”

Then I heard Mr Barraclough shouting, “Look at the state of this!!! One of my horns is a stump.”

I thought I’d better nip off.

Eccles and Dil were sitting on the church wall. Stuffing crisps into their mouths and looking at me.

Ecclesiastica yelled out, “Are you not gone yet, lanky loser?”

And Dil said, “Yeah, we’re watching you.”

And she did that pointing at her eyes and then pointing her fingers at me.

Charming.

In the kitchen of Dandelion Cottage, Dibdobs had her head in a cupboard.

I said, “Hello.”

And she said from the cupboard, “Hello, Lullah. Nature has many treasures we can use to beautify our lives. At no cost at all!!! Look at this. I’ve attached some copper wire to these and …”

She came out of the cupboard with fir cones dangling from her ears, smiling in an enormously smiley way. She said, “Fir-cone earrings!!! Paint them with a bit of silver and voilà! I don’t think I’d feel out of place at the palace!!”

The twins came out of the cupboard.

I managed to get to my room by first of all saying how marvellous the twins’ new leaf hats were and then that I had homework to do.

I lay down on my squirrel bed and tucked a squirrel slipper beside me. I’m going to do my homework. Right, I’m opening the envelope from Sidone.

Girls, my girls,

Start to explore your feelings through Art and Theatre. Get used to tapping into your Inner You-ness. The You that makes you you-nique. Access your feelings and bring them to the surface.

How do we do this? How do we share this inner world with our audience?

Well, some examples:

Are you happy? Happy to be back at Dother Hall? Feeling full of creative juices? Of course you are. Why not experiment with coloured scarves or tambourines.

Or maybe you are angry? Frustrated by a world which is disinterested in art and artists. I myself often do an expressive stamping dance. To let my feelings free. I growl or shake my hair about angrily. You may feel like swishing your hair about. You need accompaniment. Choose an unusual instrument to pluck.

A comb perhaps?

And so on.

That’s the bit, isn’t it?

The ‘and so on’ bit. That’s when you’re on your own.

Right, I’m going to express what I am feeling.

What am I feeling?

The wind is whining in the trees. I’m sitting in bed with a squirrel slipper and little Lullah and little Ruby have left me.

I’m feeling lonely. Yeah, lonely.

Lone-lee.

So how shall I express that physically?

I’ll stand up and slouch around in a lonely way. Slouch slouch. Yeah.

Yeah, dragging my feet, good.

Sighing.

But I’m also feeling angry. Angry that Dr Lightowler hates me for no reason. Angry that the owls have left me. Angry that the Bottomleys have sent me a threatening letter.

Anger-ee.

Saying it out loud is quite good.

“Lone-lee.”

“Anger-ee.”

It’s got a rhythm to it. Maybe I could do a sort of rap song. About anger and loneliness but …

But the twist is – the words are about owlets, but it’s really about Dr Lightowler and the Bottomleys. I’m not going to think too much. I’m going to pace about and bang stuff like rappers do.

Right, I’m pacing.

Up to the door, back to the window, up to the door, back to the …

Ow. I’ve just banged my toe on the bed leg. It’s making me quite angry actually. Because I can only do about four paces before I bump into something wooden.

I want to hit something.

I’m going to hit something. I’m banging a squirrel slipper on the dressing table. Yeah! It feels good.

Right, I’m pacing, pacing and banging the slipper on the bed end. Now on the wardrobe door. Yeah yeah!! I’m stepping up the rhythm now, pacing and banging anything I pass. Pace, pace, bang, bang.

Bang the window sill.

Bang the door.

Bang the bedhead.

Bang the lamp … oh damn … pick up the lamp.

It’s about owlets leaving and not even bothering to say goodbye after all I’ve done for them. Here we go:

Oh yeah

Everything leaves

Oh yes uh

(bang bang)

Without warning

Oh yes uh

(bang bang)

Squeaks from a beak

Crunch in a cheek

Mouse gone

Owl gone

Oh yes uh

(bang bang)

Everything goes

Oh yes uh

(bang bang)

Without warning

Not even in the morning

Rastafari

Uh.

I wrote it down quickly in my Darkly Demanding Damson Diary. It looks quite cool. But why have I turned into a Rastafarian at the end?

It was swishing my hair around that did it. I think I was imagining dreadlocks. Maybe that’s what Monty means about finding your Inner Maleness.

Maybe I have an Inner Rastafarian Bloke.

I think Blaise will get my rap though. At least she likes me. Well, she thinks I’m unusual.

The wind had gathered, the temperature had dropped and it felt like snow was on its way. Brrr.

I put my feet on the hot-water bottle that Dibdobs brought me. It’s got a knitted jacket on it. Harold made it at his men’s knitting circle. And I do mean a jacket. With a collar and buttons.

I bet Harold will be able to help me a lot with The Taming of the Shrew – he’s constantly talking about his Inner Woman.

Then something thudded against my window. Maybe it’s a branch blown off by the wind. Or … no …

It had better not be Cain up to his old tricks!

I flung back my curtains and opened a window to the chill night air. There on the window sill was little Lullah!

Or maybe Ruby?

No, it was defo little Lullah because her legs were so long and gangly.

I felt tears prick my eyes as I looked at her. Her owly yellow eyes were staring and blinking back at me. Oh, oh, she’d come to see me!! Because she loves me. I hope she didn’t hear the rap song.

I said, “Little Lullah, it’s me, your big owly friend. You remember me; I give you nice mice snacks.”

She raised her lower eyelids and fluffed out her feathers. “Woooooo.”

I felt so proud. She was wooing at me.

I said, “Wooo to youuuuu tooo. I didn’t mean it about the rap song, it was about other owlets, not you.” And I went to kiss the top of her head.