Читать книгу The Taming Of The Tights - Louise Rennison - Страница 8

It was already dark when the Dobbins came back.

I was in my squirrel room and heard heavy breathing outside my door.

Dibdobs whispered, “Do you know who’s in there, boys? Shall we knock on the door and see who answers it?”

One of the twins said, “Eth.”

There was knocking near the bottom of my door. I got up and opened it.

The lunatic twins were in their fun-fur hats in the shape of otter heads. And sucking on their dodies. They looked at me and then both grabbed me round the knees and put their heads into my legs. Dibdobs was almost crying at the beauty of it all.

“Ooooh, boys, it’s Lullah, she’s come home!!!”

Max (or Sam) looked up and said, “Ug oo.”

And put his head back in my leg.

Then Sam (or Max) looked up and said, “Ug oo.”

And put his head back down.

Then Max (or Sam) said, “Ug oo.”

This could have gone on for years.

Dibdobs took charge.

“Right, boys, split splot, let’s get your jimmy-jams on and then have our tea with …”

They looked up and said, “Ug oo.”

And put their heads back into my legs.

We managed to prise them off at last and half an hour later Dibdobs called me down to tea.

The boys were in their jimjams now. Still with their otter hats on.

They started shuffling towards me for more knee–hugging, but Dibdobs stepped in firmly and said, “Let Lullah sit down, boys, and have her supper. Lullah, it’s a local supper.”

Max said, “Bogie supper.”

Dibdobs ignored him although she went a bit red. “The eggs are from Jessica and Maureen. Maureen’s the one with the club foot.”

I was just thinking I don’t know any woman with a club foot when I realised she meant Maureen the chicken.

As I ate my supper, the boys stood about an inch away from me, looking at me and sucking. It was very unnerving. They certainly do not get any less odd.

Dibdobs was prattling on.

“So much going on, Tallulah!! I must tell you about …”

At that point Max fell over Micky the tortoise.

Dibdobs laughed and said, “You silly old chap, Max, you just fell over Micky on to your bottom!!!”

The lunatic twins rocked with laughter. It was like being in the House of the Mad.

Max said out of the side of his dodie, “An’ sjuuuge bumbums. Look at my bumbums!!!!”

And he pulled down his pyjama bottoms.

Sam started laughing so much I thought he would choke. And both the boys began yelling, “Bum bum bum bum!”

Dibdobs said, with a fixed smile, “Yes, it is funny, boys, but pull up your jimmies now, that’s enough. You’re BIG boys now, aren’t you, and …”

Then they both started rubbing their bottoms together and shouting, “Bummity bum bum.”

Dibdobs lost her rag and flicked at them with her tea towel. “Boys, boys, that’s not funny.”

I quickly finished off Maureen’s egg and stood up. “Well, that was a lovely supper … I think I’ll turn in now, just do a bit more creative thinking for tomorrow. Night-night.”

As I went up the wooden stairs, I heard Harold come in. The boys were still squealing and Dibdobs yelled, “Now what will your father say???”

Harold’s voice rumbled up as I opened my bedroom door. “Put your bottoms away, boys. I’ve got some live maggots in my pocket.”

When I got into my bed, I flicked through my Darkly Demanding Damson Diary to look at my Lulu-Luuuve List again, and it fell open at the last page.

There was the poem that Cain had pinned to the tree with a knife.

Written in thick untidy writing.

Like he’d got a twig and dipped it in ink.

Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind

And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.

And underneath:

I know tha likes this sort of thing

See thee later.

Did it mean he knew I’d liked kissing him?

Did he even know we’d got to Number 6 on my Lulu-Luuuve List?

No, he couldn’t know that because I’ve just made it up.

I could do with some proper girl company. Thank goodness I’ll see the Tree Sisters tomorrow.

Hurray!! The Tree Sisters together again. Vaisey, Flossie, Jo and me. We used to be five, but Honey, dear lovely Honey, has gone to Hollywood. She’s been, what do you call it? Talent-spotted by an American entrepreneur.

Hey, I’ve just thought of what you’d call it if the owlets had been spotted by an American entrepreneur looking for talent in the bird world.

Talon-spotted!!!!

They’d be talon-spotted!

I’m going to write that down in my diary.

I may turn out to be a comedy genius.