He said languidly, “There’s nowt in it. We’re just good friends.”
How dare he imply that I was jealous of owlets! Or even interested in him. Especially after what he’d done. I started to say everything I’d stored up for him. “You . . . you . . . cad.”
He said, “Ouch, steady, next you’ll be calling me a bounder.”
I said, “That was the next thing I was going to call you.”
He laughed and said, “Bloody hell.”
I said, “Oh, you think you’re so funny, Cain. Telling, telling everyone that I—that I . . .”
Cain said, “Snogged me?”
I said, “Yes—yes, yes, that and . . .”
Cain paused and said, “That you liked it?”
I went red. Cain went on. “The thing is, Lullah, whativver I am, I know the truth. I say you liked it. And I know you did.”
I couldn’t say anything.
He said, “It’s true, in’t it? You did like it. And this is true as well: I liked it. Very much. And I’ve kissed a lot of lasses. There you are, that’s the truth.”
He moved away from the fence and came and stood over me. I looked down. He reached out a gloved hand and lifted my chin up gently so that I had to look him in the eyes. Then he smiled and for a moment looked like a young, good-looking boy.
He said, “Tha’s like some of yon deer I feed, all jittery at first, wi’ their long legs and big eyes . . . all nervy . . . dun’t know whether to come to me or not. Even tho’ they get summat nice when they do come to me.”
I could feel his warm breath on my face. It smelled of peppermint and a leafy, woody sort of smoky smell. A boy smell.
He said, “Lullah, if it means owt to thee, I didn’t mean to upset you at the gig. It’s those bloody girls hanging around—them village lasses and the Bottomlys—they do my head in. I say stuff I dun’t mean to.” He licked his lips slowly and breathed in. “And, yeah, it’s true I din’t like that posh kid telling me to leave off talking to you. Like he was summat special.”
I said, “But, Cain, you don’t even know him. And he’s always been nice to me.”
Cain laughed. “I know. I said he were a garyboy and I’m reight.”
I said, “Just because someone is nice doesn’t mean they’re weak. I like him because he makes me feel good.”
Cain said darkly, “Oh aye, and are you saying I dun’t?”
I felt a bit hot but also I wanted to stick up for Charlie. I said, “It’s nice to have good mates.”
Cain said, “I dun’t need mates. What would you want mates for?”
Then he paused and went on. “Well, I suppose I dun’t really trust anyone. Especially lasses.”
I said, “Why?”
He said, “I dunno. They’re just trouble.”
I said, “Erm, I think you’ll find that it’s you that’s trouble.”
But he was somewhere else in his head.
“When I were about nine, me mam said she was going to leave. That she couldn’t get on with me dad. And would I go with her.”
I’d never seen this side of Cain. I said quietly, “What did you do?”
Cain pushed his hair from his face. “I din’t know what she meant. I were too little for that big job. I did me best, I said, ‘Dun’t go, Mam. I’ll talk to me dad and mek him be nicer to you.’”
I said, “And did you?”
Cain laughed. “What were the point? She left that night. And that were that.”
I was so shocked I didn’t know what to do. I could feel tears in my eyes.
Then Cain shook his hair and said, “Ay up, that’s enough now. This is like one of them TV shows when everyone starts crying and carrying on.”
I said, “My mum goes away a lot, but she comes back, usually with an unusual gift. Last time it was a handbag made out of a coconut.”
And he laughed. But then there was a long silence.
He took my hand and kissed it. Softly in the palm. Three times. It made my arm go completely to pieces. I wouldn’t have been surprised if it had fallen to the ground. He pulled me towards him.
The wind had risen again and was whipping my hair around. I put my free hand up to smooth it down. He caught hold of that hand and said softly, “You’re a tender-hearted kitlin, aren’t you, miss?”
I closed my eyes. And he very, very slowly brought his lips onto mine. And held them there. Then he put his hands on the sides of my face and gave me little soft kisses all along my mouth. And then down my neck. The wind was blowing, but it was as if we were in one still place.
Suddenly he stopped and said, “Nay, next thing I know you’ll be running arand after me and Ma Dobbins will get her gun out. Or has she got a bow and arrow?”
I couldn’t believe it. What was he doing?
He stepped away from me and whistled for his dog.
I was the one who was supposed to step away not him.
I was furious and said, “Well, as usual, this has been a bundle of laughs. I’m going now. I have many things to do for college.”
Cain laughed and said, “I know, lanky lass. I’ve seen thee prancing around like a tit.”
I really lost it then. “You might think this is very funny, Cain, but that’s because you’re a mean person. Who uses other people because you’re so . . .”
Cain said, “Mean? You dun’t think I could say owt nice?”
I said, “No, I do not.”
He looked me up and down.
“All right, if it’s compliments you want . . . Well . . . You’re a lanky lass, that’s true. But you’re coming along quite nicely now.”
His eyes drifted to the front of my duffel coat. “You know, fattening up in all the right places.”
I was speechless. I whirled round and started walking very fast up the path.
I heard Cain shout to his dog, “Come on then, Dog, enough of these lasses.”
Just as I got to the bend that led to the village, he called out, “See you later, Lullah. I’ll be around. . . . Wait for me. It’ll be worth it. You know that really.”
I was so shaken up and confused.
He had actually said I was “fattening up.” Like a pig.
I was so angry with him I didn’t know what to do with myself.
Him and his dog.
Why doesn’t he go out with his dog?
And they could live in a bog.
Or under a log.
He thinks he’s er . . . gog.
No, not gog. God.
I’m going to think of a rap about Cain. It will be my secret artistic revenge on the Dark Black Crow of Heckmondwhite.
When I got to Dandelion Cottage, I couldn’t bear to talk to anyone so I said to the Dobbinses I’d got a headache and went off to bed.
In my squirrel room, writing in my Darkly Demanding Damson Diary. I can’t sleep, so I’ve been working on my rap, or performance poem, as I like to call it. Cain gave me a poem so I’ve got one for him.
You’re like a dog
Who lives in a bog
You lurk in the dark
You’re a shark
Not a lark
You’ve got a bone for a heart
So go dig a hole
And hide like a mole
Cos remember they shoot goats, don’t they?
Aye
Rastafari.
I must have dozed off but when I woke up it was pitch-black outside and I could hear an owl hooting in the distance. It sounded lovely and lonely at the same time. Swooping around in its kingdom. Looking down into the night.
King (or Queen) of the Night.
I wonder if that’s why Cain likes them so much.
He’ll be up there on the moors somewhere, all dark and wild and on his own.
And here I am on my own.
But he likes being on his own and I don’t. I like being in a gang. I’ve been on my own too much. But—oh, I don’t know.
He’s got the right amount of lip
THE NEXT THING I knew the bells were ringi
ng for church on Sunday morning. I felt tired but I think my Inner Woman has grown a bit since yesterday. Dibdobs popped her head round my door to see if I felt better and to go foraging with the Cubs and Brownie packs. I said I did feel better but I was going to work on my ideas for college.
As she stomped out in her cagoule, she said, “Well, I’ll make a moss cake later to celebrate your art. What larks!”
After I heard the front door slam, I slipped downstairs for a cup of tea and looked through the kitchen window. There were about thirty people all dressed in cagoules in the middle of the green. Is everyone out foraging, I wonder? The woods will be packed. Also, it’s all very well collecting fungi and moss, but isn’t that what the badgery woodland folk eat? So if we take all their stuff what’s left for them? They can’t just go and do a big shop, can they?
Anyway, I’m not thinking about it anymore. I’m concentrating on my showbiz career. And if I never see Cain again, it will be too soon.
Urrrrgh.
Back in my room. I’m working on an idea for the Big Night Out that will knock the socks off Dr. Lightowler and her ideas of me being interested in the “horse genre.”
She doesn’t think I have any talent. She thinks that I’m silly, does she?
Well, we’ll see about that.
She’s going to see a serious side to me.
I can don the golden slippers of applause.
My feet can bleed.
Soooooo I will work on my Taming of the Shrew rap. I’d been making notes and ideas in my Darkly Demanding Damson Diary for about an hour when Ruby and Matilda popped across. They scampered up to see me and Matilda immediately fell asleep on my squirrel bed and started snoring. I wonder what she dreams about. Hoofys probably. Lots of hoofys.
I didn’t tell Rubes about the Cain incident. I don’t really know how to explain it. He confuses me so much. On one hand I hate him and on the other hand I kissed him and on the other hand, oh, I don’t know!!! How can I know when I’ve got three hands?!!!
I did tell her about how mean Dr. Lightowler is to me. Ruby said, “I could set Matilda on her for you, if you like.”
We both looked at Matilda who suddenly sat up and fell off the bed.
I said, “Hmmmmm.”
Ruby said, “Have you seen any of the boys? I like Charlie. I think he’s well fit. I bet he’s reight good at snogging. He’s got the reight amount of lip.”
How does she know that? What is the right amount of lip?
She lugged Matilda back into bed and was still going on about Charlie. “What’s more, is that even after seeing you as a horsey he still likes you.”
Yes, that’s true. A girl wearing false horse legs is a test, I think.
Ruby was still thinking. “Does he fancy you? Or just like you as a pal?”
Ah . . . that was the question.
I said, “I don’t, well, I don’t know. He’s got this tiny girlfriend so . . . well. And also I haven’t seen him in ages. I wouldn’t know what to do if I did.”
Ruby said, “Can’t you just like leap on him and snog him until he goes out with you? That’s what I’d do.”
I bet she would.
She’s got Northern grit coming out of her ears.
I wish I had some more.
Rubes went off at one o’clock to have her roast lunch. She had to carry Matilda because she refused to walk.
I worked for another hour and then had a sarnie and looked over what I’d written. Hmmmmm. Right, I’ve been working on a scene between Petruchio and Kate for the Big Night Out. It’s like a rap battle between Kate the Shrew and Petruchio.
This is Petruchio’s bit. He raps it to Kate when she’s dissing him. I’ve got some spoons to rattle for the beat.
Listen up, sister.
Ayyeeeee.
You no queen
You mean
You not my mate
You my un-mate Kate.
Uh-huh
Oh yeah
Too true
You got a face like a shrew.
Right, this is Kate’s rap back.
Me a shrew?
Get you!
Petruchio
You is just a jok-io
Peace
Rastafari
Yo.
Well, it needs a bit of work, but my un-mate Kate is quite good.
When the Dobbinses got back, Dibdobs rushed up the stairs to see me. She held out huge lumps of moss to me. “Oh, Lullah, isn’t this fun? I found a cave with enormous supplies of moss. I’m going to make some cakes and I think I’ll even have enough left over to try a soup!”
Harold called up the stairs. “Darling, I’m just going to light the fire. We could try toasting some of the snails we found.”
I don’t think I’ll be having tea today. It makes me long for a local sausage and an egg from clubfooted Maureen. The boys have just been up to feed the shoe. In its box. Apparently, it likes moss a lot.
From downstairs I could hear Dibdobs laughing in delight and a popping sound. Harold was shouting, “Oooh, there goes another one.”
Could that be the snails? It’s a massacre of wildlife down there.
Just then something thudded against my window. Hurray, it’s the owlets!!! I opened my window carefully this time and looked down.
Oh goodness gracious, it was Charlie!!
Smiling up at me. He definitely has the phwoar factor.
I said, “Oh, hello, it’s you.”
He said, “Er, yes, that’s what I thought. Lullah, I just happened to be passing, you know, in the dark on a path at the back of your house and . . . I was wondering, even though I’ve been a bit of a prat, if you’d, you know, try and forgive me. And come on a picnic with me?”
At that point it started hailing. I said, “What, now?”
And we both laughed and he ran round to the front door.
Charlie was so sweet to the Dobbinses. He even had a piece of moss cake. And I think he might have been hit by a snail popping out of the fire, but he was too nice to say. After five minutes the Dobbinses made an excuse to leave us alone in the living room. Dibdobs said, “Well, boys, I think it’s time for our story. Shall we go and have our story?”
The twins had been looking and looking at Charlie. Sucking on their dodies. Dibdobs said, “Split splot, boys, for our story!”
They said, “No story.”
But in the end she carried them, still clinging on to Micky and Dicky, up the stairs.
Harold said, “Well, lovely to meet you, Charlie. You may be interested in our Secret Weeping group. Just men together, we go off and talk about our feelings in a secure environment, of course.”
Charlie said, “Yes, it sounds very much like Woolfe Academy, Mr. Dobbins.”
Harold left and Charlie and I laughed.
It was all cozy in front of the fire. I felt warm inside and out. Charlie actually seemed to like me. And I liked him being here. And who’d have thought that I’d have a lovely handsome boy being my friend?
Then we talked about the Cain thing. Even though I was really embarrassed.
Charlie looked into the fire (which luckily wasn’t spitting snails, so he wasn’t blinded). “Girls really like him, don’t they? They like a bad boy.”
I started to say, “Well, I can tell you that—”
But he interrupted me and said, “Look, I’ve got something to say to you—well, something I want to say to you.”
I felt a bit nervous.
“I talked to my girlfriend in the holidays—maybe you don’t remember her?”
Did I remember his tiny girlfriend??? He wasn’t going to get her out of his coat pocket, was he?
“Well, I told her that I thought we were too young to get serious. And that she shouldn’t hang around waiting to see me in the holidays. That I needed to be free. Because I thought we should both be free.”
Wow.
He went on.
“I’d better get back to Woolfe now . . . but we could go for our picnic next Saturday if
you like, about half two if it’s not ten feet deep in snow.”
Charlie was asking me out on a picnic: My dreams had come true!
Or had they?
Was it a date?
Or, you know, just a picnic?
I said I’d walk as far as the back lane with him and got togged up in my coat. He shouted good-bye to the Dobbinses and we went out into the cold.
It was so nice to be with him as we walked along to Beverley’s bridge. Although I was nervous. Especially when we accidentally knocked shoulders.
I was thinking. I mean, he’d said that he’d finished with his girlfriend because they should be free. So did that mean he wanted his freedom? And was he just taking me on a picnic in the middle of winter like you would anyone?
Then I remembered what Honey said you had to do with boys: “Tell the twuth about what you want.”
So I took a deep breath and said, “Charlie, you know this picnic? Is it a date?”
Charlie said, “Lullah, are you asking me out on a date?”
I said, “Are you asking me on a date?”
He said, “I will if you will.”
So I smiled and shook his hand and said, “It’s a deal.”
So it’s a date-type date.
Blimey.
And Blinking Nora.
Yaroooo!
Jumping Jehoshaphat. I am sooo excited about going on a proper date with Charlie I can hardly breathe.
I even ate one of Dibdobs’s moss cakes.
And said night-night to the shoe.
That’s how happy I was.
Praise the knees!
I RAN ALL THE way to Dother Hall on Monday morning. I couldn’t wait to tell the Tree Sisters my big date news about Charlie. I’m on cloud nine, drifting along watching clouds one to eight, and waiting to go on my first proper date with someone I really like.
The Tree Sisters were almost as excited as me. When I told them about Charlie we did a celebration dance on Vaisey’s bed in the dorm.
Flossie said, “Miss Tallulah Mae, you doggone gone and got yourself a boyfriend—it’s Jazzle time!” And she got her secret stash out.
Vaisey hugs me every time she sees me.
And even Jo is pleased for me. I know because my arm is black and blue.