It’s quite soothing in a way when he gives a lecture because we can all have a rest while he does tap dance, air guitar, songs, “modern dance,” etc., and we just marvel at how his trousers don’t split.
Still, at least it distracted me from my own head for an hour.
I felt really on edge that Cain is somewhere in the building. I can sort of “feel” his presence. And it’s not a nice feeling—it’s a slightly sicky feeling. But anyway, as Vaisey says, I don’t need to see him. The Jones will probably have fallen out by now and gone off for a fight in the woods.
At mid-afternoon break, I passed the music studios to see girls crowded around reading a notice. Handwritten by Bob in red, it said:
Ears on!!
No backstage access.
Musos at work.
Bob
(technician, musician, Dudemeister)
At the end of the day, practically the whole of my year was waiting by the studio door. I was trying to push my way through to the dormitory stairs. If I went and lurked up there, The Jones would leave and then I could safely go home. Milly was hopping about with Tilly. “Lullah, they’re coming out, they’re coming out!”
Lav, Dav, and Noos ambled along. Lav saw me and came over specially to ruffle my hair. “Top of the day to you, Oirish. Have you come to see the young men?”
I said, “No, not at all, I was just . . . er . . . getting my coat.”
Lav ruffled my hair again. Why does she do that? It’s like she’s patting a big dog. She said, “Ah, you’re ‘getting your coat,’ are you? To be sure, to be sure. Are you keeping it in the music studios, me dahling?”
And she went off tinkling with laughter with Dav and Noos.
Bob came clanking through the swing doors from the studio shouting, “OK, cool it, dudettes. Let them through . . . no autographs . . . the band have to make their way to a gig. So move along.”
Everyone just kept on jumping up and down and screeching. Bob adjusted his trousers, which were coming adrift with the weight of his spanners, and shouted again, “OK, listen up. You dudes know my band, The Iron Pies . . . well, breaking news . . . our next gig is at the Cattle Market in Cleckheaton! I have some flyers here, which I can sign for you, if you form an orderly queue . . .”
Jack appeared through the doors followed by Ruben and Cain, and Bob was practically flattened in the stampede. As soon as I saw Cain, that old dread feeling came over me. He was dressed all in black and immediately surrounded by girls asking him to sign their pencil cases and their arms. Cassie Perkins actually fainted and had to be taken to the sickbay by Gudrun.
I glanced back at Cain, who was looking down, signing something, and as I did, Cain looked up. Over the heads of all the adoring girls.
Straight at me.
How had he known to look up just then?
A second later and I would have been gone.
He’s like a wild animal. He seems to sense where I am.
Then, as the girls started pulling at his jacket, Ruben and Jack dragged him off through the crowd. Flossie was just by me and she said, “He looked straight at you, didn’t he? That baaaaaaaad Cain boy.”
Then Seth came through the swing doors from the studio with his guitar. Flossie said, “Well, well, well, speaking of bad boys.”
She stood still and looked at Seth. He noticed her. Then he handed his guitar to Bob and pushed his way through the girls until he was standing in front of Flossie.
I tried to back away. All of the girls went quiet.
Seth said, “I’ve got summat for thee, big lass.”
Flossie put her hands on her hips.
“Oh, what could you possibly have that I’d want?”
And he winked at her and handed her a poster. He said, “It’s got my picture on it.”
Flossie said, “Is it a ‘Wanted’ poster issued by the police?”
Seth put his face closer to hers. “It’s the poster for our gig. Why don’t tha come? I’d like to see more of thee. There’s a lot of thee to see, isn’t there?”
Flossie smiled and then ripped up the poster in front of him.
Ruben shouted from the crush at the door, “Seth, get tha daft arse out here.”
Seth said to Flossie, “Yabba dabba do, big girl.”
And pushed his way out.
What did that mean?
What did anything mean?
Jo had disappeared off, but she came back and said, “I managed to sneak a note to Jack for Phil. I’ve outlined my special plan in it so that we can meet again.”
I said, “What is the special plan?”
Jo thumbed her nose. “Him and me are going to act normal and nice. Pretend we’re just like anyone else, and that the potting-shed thing was, you know, an accident that was waiting to happen.”
As she went off, I thought, Yes, well, good luck with that plan.
I hurried home that night feeling a bit shaken up. All this time and now he was back, the Rusty Dark Crow of Heckmondwhite.
Why did he have to come back and do that looking thing?
What did he want?
Maybe he didn’t want anything. He just happened to look up.
Anyway, he’s probably kissed a hundred girls since, well, since . . . the thing happened.
I’ve got nothing to worry about. He’ll think I’m just another notch on his . . . erm, guitar.
So, good. That’s that then.
I can throw the poem away and get on with life.
Get on with thinking about real boys.
Boys who are nice to me. Boys like Charlie.
I wonder if the Woolfe boys will be set free soon.
In the early evening after tea (nettle soup), I thought I’d just have a look around the back woods and see if there was any sign of Little Lullah and Little Ruby. As I went down the lane, I passed the tree at the bottom of the Dobbinses’ garden where Cain stuck his stupid poem, which I will be throwing away when I get in.
There was a poster on the tree. It was The Jones poster.
What a stupid place to put a poster. Well, not stupid if you wanted to attract voles and squirrels to your gig but . . . I’m going to take it down.
As I ripped it off, I noticed something handwritten at the bottom. It hadn’t been on the other posters. It was written in felt-tip. And I knew the handwriting.
Handwriting that looked like it had been done by someone with a hoof.
Cain’s writing.
It said:
See you there, cheeky miss.
What? Why? What does he want with me?
I took the poster back to Dandelion Cottage and slipped it into the fire because there was no one in the kitchen. I was all restless and wound up, so I was glad when Ruby came round with Matilda and we went out again. Even though it was dark it wasn’t very cold. She said, “I thought I saw Lullah and Ruby on my way home from school, so let’s go up back and see.”
Matilda went toddling off in front, sniffing at every bit of poo she came across. Ruby said, “Duck poo’s her favorite.”
I told Ruby about The Jones coming to Dother Hall and what Seth had said to Flossie, but I didn’t tell her about the poster. She said, “If I were Seth, I’d be a bit frightened of Flossie.”
“I think he likes her being off with him. He said that he was sick of all the milky local girls and that Flossie was a cracking snogger and had a strong right hand.”
Ruby said, “Is Flossie a cracking snogger then? I am.”
I’m not going to encourage Ruby by saying anything. But she went on anyway.
“You should know if she’s a cracking snogger because you told me that the Tree Sisters did practice snogging together.”
Did I?
But then fortunately Matilda stopped and started barking at something in the ditch. Well, not barking because she can’t really bark—it’s more loud snuffling.
Ruby was excited. “She must have found them. Oh, GOOD girl, good girl, you’ve found them.”
And we both ran down the la
ne. But when we got there, it was a carrot that Matilda was barking at. Ruby said, “She dun’t even like carrots.”
Matilda started eating it.
It’s sad that the owlets have gone. I said to Ruby, “I wrote a rap song about the owlets leaving. Do you want to hear it?”
She said, “No. Me dad’s written a rap song for The Iron Pies. It goes,
I’ll not lie
I like a pie
But I like my toast and
I’m off just now for me Sunday roast.”
What a week and it’s still only Wednesday. Dr. Lightowler has been appearing unexpectedly, just looking at me wherever I’ve been. The other terrible thing has been that Jo has started her “plan.” She is being “good.”
You wouldn’t think any fool would fall for it, but she called Monty “Mr. de Courcy” yesterday and asked him to tell her all about his theater career. Serves her right that he took her seriously and she had to go and have a lie-down after two hours. With a piece of ice (chipped out of the sink) on her head.
She’s trying “being good” with everyone.
Helping carry Gudrun’s books.
Doing voluntary dance lessons with the younger girls in her own time.
Tidying the library.
Volunteering for things.
Being enthusiastic.
Even Dr. Lightowler said she thought her interpretation of Kate fighting with Bianca (me) “was quite remarkably vigorous.” Too true. I’m covered in bruises.
And also Dr. Lightowler seems to get madder by the moment. She only has to look at me to start blinking and twitching. It’s hardly my fault that during the Kate and Bianca fight Jo pushed me onto Dr. Lightowler’s lap.
Today—Thursday—at break, Jo called us all to a meeting on the roof. Which was freezing.
She said, “I’ve written an official letter of apology to Sidone. As Bob says, put your ears on while I read it to you.”
I said, “I won’t have any ears to put on if we stay out here in minus a hundred degrees for much longer.”
Jo said, “Shhhh . . .” and started reading out her letter.
Dear Ms. Beaver,
I hope in the last couple of weeks, I have been able to show you and the wonderful teachers here at Dother Hall—
[Flossie nearly swallowed her Jammie Dodger whole]
—my deep regret for the “potting-shed” incident.
I of course deserve my punishment and have been only too pleased to help Bob with his maintenance jobs. The new manure heap will, I know, have a lasting effect on future generations of students. And nearby homes.
And of course I accept the embargo on contact outside the college, though I have missed the supportive community of Heckmondwhite.
However, I do feel I should say that in the case of the boy concerned—I believe his name is Phillip—I need to disclose something that I know he never would. And no matter what my fate, I know I am doing the right thing. Because this is a crime of my own making. Darn my love of theater!!
It was after we had had your inspiring talk about The Taming of the Shrew. Of course I was fired up with ideas, I’m young, I love the theater, what can I say? Anyway, when I accidentally met with some of the Woolfe boys shortly afterwards, I said that modern boys were not as noble as Petruchio who would have taken any risk to prove himself a man. That someone like Petruchio would, for instance, have climbed any barricade to get to a woman he was interested in.
I thought little more of the conversation. But, to my endless regret, Phillip (I think that may be his name) took me at my word. He wanted to show his mettle. He meant to appear at the dorm window and leave a sausage as a sign that he had been there and then secretly steal away. Having disturbed no one and proved his point. But, as we know, his visit was no secret.
I hope you will find it in yourself to explain to the headmaster of Woolfe Academy that I am responsible. And that I hope Phillip and the other innocent boys will not be punished any further for my crazy obsession with theater. I do indeed know the proper meaning of “bleeding feet.”
Yours with deep shame,
Joanna
We all said that never, ever in a million years would anyone be stupid enough to fall for this.
As she went off to Ms. Beaver’s office with her letter, Jo said, “Have you met Sidone?”
I cannot believe this. No one can believe it.
Sidone made an announcement in assembly. She said, “Girls, I received a profoundly affecting letter yesterday. I don’t need to name names, but suffice it to say this letter reminded me of my own youthful passion for life! For art! For adventure! It seems that the ‘potting-shed incident’ as I believe it will be known in Dother Hall history”—she chuckled—“was merely the result of youthful joie de vivre. So, as of now, all girls are free to come and go as normal.”
Everyone cheered!!! And Jo did a special dance with Bob.
I told Vaisey in private about Cain’s note on the poster and she said, “Lullah, we’ll be there with you. . . . Don’t let stupid Cain stop you seeing your mates and being normal.”
And that is why we’re all going to The Jones’s gig on Saturday night!!!!!!!!!!!!
My inner snogger
MY SQUIRREL ROOM LOOKED like backstage at the Oscars on Saturday evening. Makeup everywhere and growing hysteria. Even the lunatic twins were covered in makeup by the time we’d got ready. Then they brought their tortoises up to have some makeup put on.
I don’t know if you’ve ever tried to get a tortoise to put its head out of its shell so you can apply lip gloss, but they don’t like it.
At seven thirty, we set off across the green to the church hall. Jack smuggled a note to Vaisey to say that the Woolfe boys are allowed to come to the gig, but they have a quarter-past-eleven curfew when the sports master will meet them to walk them back.
We are all giddy gerties with excitement.
I said to the Tree Sisters, “I know it’s silly, but I’m really looking forward to seeing Charlie. I hope he’ll be there. I know he’s got a tiny girlfriend so I’m only looking forward to seeing him just as a mate.”
Jo said, “Yes, I can see that—the sort of mate who’s bought a new lip gloss and done double mascara application with sparkly eyelashes. That sort of mate.”
Vaisey put her arm through mine.
“Shhh, Jo, I know what Lullah means. I think you look lovely with your sparkly eyes and your shiny black hair.”
Flossie said, “I don’t think it’s Charlie that you should be thinking about. I think the nose-licker likes you. I saw him looking at you after rehearsal.”
I didn’t know what to say so I looked at Vaisey.
Vaisey went bright red and Flossie saw it. She said, “Oy—what’s going on? Why is your head about to drop off, Vaisey?”
Vaisey said, “I don’t know.”
Jo got interested then. “You don’t know why your own head is going to drop off?”
Vaisey looked at me for help. Flossie saw that and said, “Why are you looking at Lullah?”
And Jo said, “And why is Lullah’s head now going to drop off?”
I couldn’t take it anymore. Vaisey looked like she was going to faint.
So I told them all in a rush about the Number 6 Cain tongue incident on the moors.
Flossie said, “You’ve secretly done Number Six with the Dark Black Crow of Heckmondwhite?”
Then Jo leapt on me and shouted, “You are an animal in tights!”
So that’s it. The Tree Sisters know my worst secret. I feel somehow cleansed.
As we walked over to the church hall, I said, “Well, I’m glad I’ve told you. Now I can just get it all out of my head and get on with my life.”
Flossie said, “Do you think we could stop talking about your head for one minute and talk tactics?”
Vaisey said, “What tactics?”
Flossie pushed Vaisey quite hard and said, “Oooooh, you little japesters—you know what plan. Me-using-Ben-as-my-decoy-to-get-Seth??
?s-attention tactics.”
Flossie’s “plan” is to make Seth think that she likes Ben so that he’ll be jealous.
I said, “Is that really fair to Batboy?”
Flossie said, “I sure don’t want to bring this up, Miss Lullabelle, but you were the one who first trapped Batboy in the sweet nectar of your lips.”
Uurrgh!
Wow, the church hall looked like a proper gig. It had flashing lights and a bar and a “chill-out space” full of beanbags. Which were supposed to be for lying on when you’d been dancing, but already the rough village lads were hitting each other with them.
Typical.
It was heaving. In fact, it looked like most of the village were there. But when we arrived, it went quiet like in a Western film, you know, when the sheriff walks in through the swing doors and all the cowboys stub out their fags and start feeling for their guns.
I’m not saying the village people had guns. But they all stopped talking and looked at us. Then a stray dog came and sat down beside us. So it was the whole village versus the Tree Sisters and a Labrador.
Where were all the other Dother Hall girls?
And the Woolfe boys?
Flossie said, “Oh Lordy, Lordy.”
Vaisey whispered, “Don’t look at them. Pretend we’re talking.”
I said, “We are talking.”
Jo said, “No, I know what Vaisey means. Nod your heads a lot. I’ll start.” And she said loudly and slowly, “Erm, it’ll be brillage when Phil and the boys get here, won’t it?”
We all said, “Yeah, yeah, yeah.”
Nod, nod, nod.
Jo said, “Do you think I should snog Phil or wait for him to snog me?”
We nodded.
She said, “What does that mean?”
We nodded again.
She said, “Look, one nod for me and a double nod for him.”
But then we all got mixed up so it was more or less continual nodding. After a bit the rest of the villagers started talking again and the dog wandered off.