Withering Tights (11 page)

Charlie said, “A couple of the prefects, also known as the Posh Trevs, caught us accidentally juggling with West Riding otters.”

We looked at them both.

Honey said, “Juggling ith not a cwime.”

I said, “It should be.”

And Charlie and Phil laughed.

I felt quite proud that they thought I had said something funny.

Flossie said, “Did you really juggle with otters?”

Charlie said, “Nah. But we did change a country sign on our marathon and the Posh Trevs rode their mountain bikes into the river.”

Phil said, “Yeah, it’s really, really serious…we are forbidden to go out after hours for the next week.”

Jo looked a bit sad, even though she tried to hide it.

Then Phil said, “Or to put it another way, see you after college. Bye, small bouncy person.”

And Jo blushed and bounced off proudly.

We had art all afternoon with Dr Lightowler. I wasn’t feeling great, because she hadn’t really taken to me. But as we were waiting for her, Sidone swept into the studio, all in black – Capri trousers, bolero top and a matador hat. She stopped and looked at us.

“Girls, Dr Lightowler is covering for Madame Frances with the lower sixth group. Madame Frances is, I am afraid, still a little under the weather. So…use the time to ‘experiment’ in different forms. There’s paper, paints, chicken wire, plaster…Think of where you are, think of what the experience of Dother Hall means to you.”

Flossie did a sketch of a giant ironing board and iron which she’s going to make out of chicken wire. Vaisey went off to do moody sketches of the Dales and the clouds over Grimbottom. It was quite jolly having no one to tell us what to do.

Jo and Honey started singing and chatting.

Jo said, “I love it here now, I want to come and be here full-time, more than anything in the world.”

Honey said, “It would be fun, to be here full time weally. I weally hope and pway I get chothen to thtay. I hope we all do.”

And she started singing, “Thome where over the wainbow faw-a-way.”

And Jo joined in and they ended up standing on the desk singing, “Why, oh, why can’t I?”

Originally, I thought of wrapping the whole of Dother Hall in brown paper. That would get me noticed. There is a French artist who does stuff like that. He wrapped up the White Cliffs of Dover in clingfilm, or something. I don’t know why, but I know I liked it. However, when I went and asked Bob where the brown paper was kept he said, “In Gudrun’s top drawer.”

So I had to think of something else on a smaller scale for the time being.

I decided to make a cover for my performance art/summer of love notebook. I have collaged the front and back of it with a mixture of leaves and sheep’s wool, and stuck on some bits of slate I found which had fallen off the roof

To me it says ‘Yorkshire, the beginning of my dream’.

I am going to pour my heart and soul into it.

Alright, I can’t dance or sing, but I have got something to offer, I know I have, and I don’t mean my knees.

Gudrun came to tell Vaisey that her bed in the dorm was ready at last and that Bob will drive down later to get her stuff from The Blind Pig. Vaisey is really excited.

After the bell went, Vaisey and I walked home together, probably for the last time this summer.

Maybe forever.

We were both a bit quiet. Me, because I was thinking I would miss walking along with my new friend, but I think Vaisey was thinking about Jack. Or her hair. Or what larks she would have in the dorm.

I’m a bit jealous.

The trees were full of birds singing and you could see the moors rising above Heckmondwhite. Some of the higher crags had bits of snow on the top still.

I hadn’t really noticed how many birds sang in
the woods, or the moors, probably because Vaisey and I didn’t stop talking or acting things out as we walked along together. Or she was riding Black Beauty and I was revving my Harley. And doing wheelies.

Funny how quickly you get to be good friends with someone. I was going to miss trying not to alarm Black Beauty with my bike in the mornings.

When we reached Heckmondwhite, Vaisey scampered off. She yelled, “Got to dash because Bob is coming for me in his Dude-mobile and I have to pack.”

After my supper of ‘local’ fish and chips from
The Wetherby Whaler
, it was nice to have Dibdobs around. She was by herself because Harold and the twins had gone to look at some cloud formations.

Dibdobs looked at me through her roundy glasses and said, “Tallulah, it’s been so lovely having you here. The boys adore you, and so do I.”

And she came and hugged me from the back, which made it a bit tricky because I was just
finishing my mushy peas. She said, “I just don’t want to think about you not being here any more.”

That makes two of us.

I thought I would go and see Ruby.

Maybe the owls have hatched.

But there was no one around.

I tried calling her from the door of The Blind Pig. I didn’t like to go in when she wasn’t there. Partly because I was so shy about seeing Alex, but also because…oh dear. Mr Barraclough was there. He was cleaning his pie-eating trophies in the bar.

I said, “I was just looking for Ruby.”

He said, “She’s up back, wi’ Matilda.”

I set off up the track behind The Blind Pig towards Blubberhouse, and before I saw her Matilda came hurtling down the track and crashed straight past me, because she couldn’t stop her little bow legs.

Ruby shouted, “She couldn’t stop a pig in a ginnel.”

Whatever that means.

Ruby was hanging upside down from a low-lying branch.

You couldn’t actually see her head, but you could see her knickers.

I said, “Hello it’s me. I can see your knickers.”

She said from upside down, “I know I’ve got my special apple catchers on.”

I said, “I feel all miserable now because Vaisey has gone to stay at Dother Hall.”

Ruby said, “I know, I miss her a bit, too. You should hang upside down, it doesn’t half cheer you up.”

“Does it?”

“Oh, aye.”

I had my trousers on, so I thought I would give it a whirl.

As we hung there, I said to Ruby, “You’re right, I do feel a bit better. I feel a lot redder too.”

She said, “Try swinging a bit at the same time. It makes you laugh.”

Soon we were both giggling like upside down loonies.

Ruby said, “Try swinging and putting your hands over your eyes at the same time. It’s brilliant, you won’t know which way up you are.”

In for a penny in for a pound.

She was right, swinging upside down with your hands over your eyes does make you not know which way up you are.

Ruby said, “What happened last night? Vaisey wunt tell me owt, but her hair looked like she’d bin electrocuted.”

I said, “Actually the film was a bit like this. Lots of hanging around upside down.”

Ruby said, “I’m not interested in the film. I’m interested in hanky panky with boys.”

It felt like being in a cosmic confessional. Just voices in the dark. Ruby threw a stick for Matilda upside down, but Matilda just watched it fly off past her. Then went back to trying to lick my face.

I said, “Well…it happened.”

“Ooooooo.”

“Yes. There was actual kissing.”

Ruby’s voice said, “What sort of kissing? Open mouthed? How long for? Tongues?”

“Ruby this a private thing.”

“I know, I wunt to know the private thing, that is why I am hanging around waiting for you to tell me.”

I went on.

“Jo did arm around and snogging.”

Ruby whistled. “With that Phil boy? The little cheeky one?”

I said, “Affirmative.”

Ruby said, “I quite fancy him mysen.”

“Ruby, you’re only ten.”

“I’m big for my age.”

“OK, so you’re a big ten year old. Phil’s fifteen.”

“I like older men.”

“Stop being daft Ruby, you barm pot.”

“Shuffle over and say that to me face.”

“I can’t even see your face.”

Ruby said, “Well anyway, tell me what happened to you.”

“Well, Jo got Phil, Vaisey got Jack, and I got this boy called Ben.”

“Ben, what’s he like when he’s at home?”

“Well, he’s quite tall and floppy.”

Ruby said, “Good good. Tall is good…floppy, well floppy can be alright, s’long as you don’t mean he’s a noddy niddy noddy.”

“What?”

“You know, a bit simple in the noddle department.”

Just then a male voice shouted, “Oy you two, what the bloody hell are you doing?”

It was Mr Barraclough. “I said this would happen, Ruby, if you mixed with the artists. The next thing you know I’ll see you in the streets in Skipley with Matilda playing the piano whilst you pretend to stand very, very still.”

Eventually he puffed off and we went back to sitting on the branch.

It was a lovely night with stuff tweeting, sheep scampering, cows frolicking. And then it got to be an even lovelier night because Alex turned up in his car. He got out and saw us up the hill on our branch and waved…and then started walking towards us.

I said to Ruby, “Is my hair alright?”

Ruby said, “Yes, a lot of folk like that matted look.”

I tried to smooth it down casually, but my heart was thumping as Alex approached.

He is sooo good looking, and he’s smiling.

I hadn’t seen him for ages.

Ruby said, “Shut your mouth, a bee might fly in it, and make a little bee house in there.”

I tried to arrange my legs so that they looked less gangly.

Alex came and stood in front of us and crossed his arms.

“What are you two up to?”

Ruby said, “Lullah was telling me that last night she—”

I interrupted really quickly, “I…um…I was just going to tell Rube that I wanted to wrap the whole of Dother Hall in brown paper, as an, um, Art Statement.”

They were both looking at me, not saying anything. So I burbled on.

“But there were only two pieces left, so I covered my book instead.”

Alex said, “I can tell you’re loving it, dahling, loving it at Dither Hall.”

I said, “Well, yes if you like being, you know…useless.”

Why was I telling him all this?

I just felt hypnotised when he looked in my eyes.

I mustn’t start quacking or anything.

Alex looked at me again. Right in the eyes.

“Your eyes are the most amazing colour, aren’t they?”

Ruby said, “Oh no, now you’ve done it.”

Alex suddenly pushed Ruby off the branch and she disappeared into the field. It really made me laugh, she looked so shocked. Alex grinned and then he did the same to me.

Pushed me off the branch!

As we were lying there in the field we could hear him go whistling off

I looked at Ruby and said, “He, he pushed you, and then he pushed me. But didn’t he say something about my eyes or something? What was it, I don’t quite remember…”

Ruby dusted herself down and pulled her apple catchers up.

She said, “Don’t even think about it.”

I did think about it, though. A lot.

Looking in the mirror in my squirrel room. He
said I had ‘amazing’ eyes.

Well, he said the colour was amazing.

But that was as good, wasn’t it?

I mean, why would you say ‘amazing’ if you didn’t mean it as good?

If you thought someone had really non-amazing eyes, you wouldn’t mention it would you?

Out of politeness.

You wouldn’t say, “You’ve got the crappest eyes I’ve ever seen. Your eyes make me feel physically sick.”

But on the other hand, say someone did have really crap eyes, you might distract them by mentioning a good feature to make up for it. Like their ears or something.

Maybe he was distracting me from my knees by mentioning my eyes.

Oh, I don’t know.

And second of all he had pushed me off the branch.

Which in anyone’s language is not what people do to grown-ups.

So…

And also what about Ben?

Even if I didn’t want to go out with him, I wanted him to want to go out with me so that I could say sadly, “I’m afraid my heart is with another. I am wedded to Heathcliff, or Alex, as I know him.”

That night as the owls hooted outside, I read about
Wuthering Heights
in my study notes about the Brontës. It said that Emily and Charlotte and Anne had to pretend to be blokes so that they could get their books published.

They had to display Northern grit.

As I lay there with my squirrels and my budding corkies, I decided something.

I am going to display Northern grit. Like the Brontë sisters. I’m not going to be put off by a bit of, “You’re useless.”

I bet they wouldn’t be.

When Emily went into her publisher and said, “I’ve written a book about some madman who lives on the moors. There’s a lot of moaning and so on, and then the girl dies. I shall call it Wuthering Heights.”

And they said, “Go home, love, and tell your sister
not to come back with another story about a girl called Jane Eyre, because that will be rubbish as well. Get tha sen a little dog.”

I wrote in my notebook:
I’m going to laugh in the face of fear, like the Brontë sisters.

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.”

I have never seen anything like Ms Fox’s film.

There she was, dressed up as a German businessman on a train, sitting down with a newspaper, then she started slapping the commuters with her newspaper.

And then she was in a doggie outfit dancing around a kennel in a shopping centre.

And finally, she was scratching her teeth in time to some music.

After we had watched the film, she said, “Right, you’ve got four minutes. Go find something in the studio and make up a little performance with it.”

Wow.

And also wow.

And crikey Moses.

Everyone panicked and ran around the studio. I found an old bit of bandage backstage, I don’t think it was used. I really hope it wasn’t used.

I didn’t really know what I was doing. I wrapped it around my hand leaving a little mouth hole. Like a mummy. I think I was modelling it on the idiot boys without their ‘teef’.

Before I had time to think Ms Fox blew a whistle and shouted, “On the stage, let’s see it. You!” And pointed to people.

Even Jo looked rattled. She’d found two drumsticks and put them in her hair and started to speak Japanese, I think.

Flossie put on a lampshade and started being a catwalk model.

Next it was Vaisey. She got up and said, “This is Vaisey.”Then she put a curtain round her shoulders
and said, “But this is Vaisey, Star!” And burst into song: “Fame, I’m gonna live forever, I’m gonna learn how to fly. I’m gonna—”

Ms Fox shouted, “Next!” And pointed at me.

I got up on stage and said, “Um, hello, Dad used to bring me stuff back from Egypt, and once he brought me a baby mummy.”

Milly and Tilly started sniggering.

Then I said, “And here it is.” And put my bandaged hand up.

Everyone was just looking at me. Like I’d gone mad.

I had.

I looked at the mummy. I said to it, “So you are an Ancient Egyptian, then?”

I made the mummy nod its head and open and shut its mouth.

“That’s very interesting.” The mummy nodded.

I said, “You’re very small for a mummy.” And the mummy started making muffled noises.

I said to it, “Well, there is no need for that kind of language. You are only letting yourself down, and ruining a lovely occasion.”

The mummy made muffled noises again.

I said, “Right, that does it!”

And I wrestled my own hand to the floor and fought with it for a bit.

Some people clapped at the end.

Vaisey and Jo and Honey and Flossie stared at me.

As we were going out, Blaise said to me, “What’s your name?”

I said, “Tallulah Casey.”

She said, “Watching you is like watching someone whose pants are on fire. Strangely fascinating, keep it up.”

I went home to write in my performance art notebook. Already some of the slate is coming off the cover.

Ms Fox said strangely fascinating. Is that good?

Make the bicycle ballet ‘strangely fascinating’.

I’ve sort of mapped it out now.

The girls sing the Sugar Plum Fairy song in chorus on bikes

at the back-It starts with swirling snow as they go to the Land of Sugar and Sweets. (Note for swirling snow: get a fan
from Bob and lots of bits of paper.)

The chorus goes up and down the back of the stage on their bikes, first with legs out to the sides. (Will have to give big shove to get it across stage.)

Then one knee on the saddle.

Then both legs out at the back.

Then the Sugar Plum Fairy dance. I will be the Sugar Plum Fairy. (Costume note: get lots of sticks of rock from village store and net underskirt from Ruby’s ballet class.)

Could I get a unicycle from somewhere?

And dance with bike in centre of stage before I ride really fast off, and then come gliding back on when I have momentum. With no hands.

Eating rock?

We’ve rounded up five bikes from Ruby, although one is a bit small as she had it when she was six. Jo can have that one. And the rest are ones that have been left at The Blind Pig after people had The Blind Pig special ale (Ruby says).

We’ve got the music. And most of the costumes, and we’re rehearsing every day at the back of college.
I popped round to see the Rubster (and Matilda) on the way home, to see if the owlets were hatched yet and if Alex was about.

Ruby was eating an apple on the wall and she said she’d had a scientific idea.

“Dad is redecorating the downstairs ladies’ loos, we could do your corker outline there. You know, a sideways outline. And see the difference the next time you are up here.”

I said sadly, “Rubes, I don’t think there is much chance of me being here next year. We’ve got our halfway assessments this week.”

Matilda was hurling herself at my legs. She loves me. And goes mad with excitement every time she sees me. Ruby said, “Tha must smell like a doggie treat.”

I said, casually, “Is Alex about?”

And Ruby tutted.

On Thursday, we were just going to check that the bicycles were oiled when I saw Alex in the corridor, talking to Lavinia.

I wished I had got my Barely Pink lipstick on to make me seem a bit more grown up.

They looked like they were sharing a private joke, and Lavinia was grinning like a beaver.

As we passed them I was pretending to find something in my tote bag, but Lav spotted me and said, “Hellooo, little Oirish, how’s the crack? I’m railly looking forward to your piece in the performance lunchtime. What is it called?”

Damn.

“Um, well, ah…”

She and Alex were looking at me.

“It’s called…Dance of the Sugar Plum Bikey,” I said wildly.