They tried it again, this time with more guitars, and then Mr. Barraclough shouted, “Lads, lads, leave it.” The banging and twanging came to a halt.
There was a little silence and I think a sigh and then Mr. Barraclough said slowly, “Bob, Bob, Bob, me old son, can I just stop you there and ask you a little question?”
Bob said, “Cool, I’m always here to help.”
Mr. Barraclough went on. “Whose band is this, Bob love?”
Bob paused.
“Well, I guess it’s a . . . collective based on the talents of the whole of . . .”
Mr. Barraclough said, “Ah, I see, this is where you’ve got your sen mixed up. It’s not a ‘collective,’ old love, it’s MY band. Does tha see? Does tha see what I mean there, Bob?”
Bob said, “Yeah.”
Mr. Barraclough said, “Reight, that’s good, me old flower. So, from now on, you follow me. I will set the rhythm. . . . Now then, the next song is the well-known Beatles song ‘All You Need Is Pies.’ Hit it, lads!!!”
And the banging and twanging and shouting began again with Mr. Barraclough singing loudly, “All you need is pies, LA LA LA LA, All you need is pies pies, pies is all you need!!”
Ruby came in behind me with Matilda and shouted above the racket. “Ay up, I’m just going to take Matilda for her evening poo. I’ve finished with that gormless Joey—he crashed in’t barn when he were riding his bike backwards.”
She went off into the kitchen to get snacks and I was just nuzzling Matilda. Although keeping away from her back end because of the imminent poo business. She was wagging her tail, well, stump really, when a pair of trousers appeared before my eyes.
Not just any trousers, not magic trousers floating around in the air.
When I looked up. There he was.
Alex the Good.
He smiled at me. Phwoar. He was so good-looking, like a film star.
I couldn’t think of anything to say.
What was he doing here? This wasn’t the weekend after next.
He shouted above The Iron Pies, “Tallulah!!!” And he hugged me.
He smelled gorgeous, like a vanilla ice cream with everything else in it you like. Chocolate brownies, touch of raspberry sauce, and, er . . . chips.
No, not chips, but something that tasted like chips but didn’t smell like them but . . .
He said, “Are you pleased to see me, lovely Lullah? Look at you, look at how you’ve grown.”
My face felt beetroot. “My brother says I’m growing upwards to get away from my knees. But . . .”
Ruby came tumbling back with her arms full of crisps. She said to Alex, “Has she said anything weird yet?”
Alex smiled at me and said, “Nothing out of the ordinary. Come away from this racket and tell me what’s been happening, Tallulah.”
Ruby said, “I can tell you what she’s been doing. She tried to kiss the owlet and it fell off the windowsill and then . . .”
Matilda started whining and rubbing her bottom on the floor.
Alex said, “Ruby, you’d better take her out now.” And Ruby went out of the door tutting and pulling Matilda by the collar. She said, “Don’t talk about stuff that you don’t tell me about.”
Alex smiled at me again and then said, “Let’s go outside, otherwise my dad’ll see us and you know what that’ll be like.”
Oh yes, I knew what that’d be like. I said, “He pretends I’m a long, lanky village boy.”
Alex laughed. “He would.”
We strolled up the back path. I walked along like a dozy butterfly sucking in the nectar of his Alex-ness.
He said, “So then, what’s been happening since I’ve been away?”
I said, “Er, I did a rap song about the owlets. It was mainly about mice snacks.”
He laughed.
I wanted to tell him everything so I said, “Beverley Bottomly is on hunger strike. She—”
Alex interrupted, “Yeah, I heard about Cain being hunted down by Mrs. Bottomly. He’s a bloody idiot, that boy. He’s always been in trouble, since his mum went. He was a right nice kiddie before then, wild and cheeky but nice. We used to go fishing and stuff together.”
I said before I’d thought about it, “He’s not that nice. He makes fun of me and does . . . er . . . stuff . . . and . . . now Beverley thinks . . . she said I throw myself at him, and it’s not true. He started the licking thing and . . .”
Oh holy moly.
Alex stopped walking.
“He started the LICKING thing?”
I could feel redness creeping up my body.
“No, well, yes, but . . . no, it’s not like that, well, a hailstone landed on my nose and he just licked it off. I told Cousin Georgia and it’s not even on her official snogging scale. Sooo.”
Alex was looking at me intently. It made me very nervous and that was never a good thing. I found myself saying, “She said she didn’t know if it should come before or after lip nibbling but . . . she . . . didn’t . . .”
Alex was still looking at me. “You seem to know a lot more about snogging than you did when I last spoke to you, Tallulah.”
Now I really was red. How could I be talking to him like this?
Then he completely bamboozled me by saying, “He shouldn’t have taken advantage of the . . . er . . . hailstone. But you can’t blame him for wanting to kiss you.”
I could hardly speak but I tried. “Me? Kiss.”
“Yeah, if you were a bit older, I might try to kiss you as well.”
The whole of me wanted to yell, “WELL, JUST GO AHEAD, MATEY!!!”
Maybe this was my moment. I could say, “Well, don’t let other people’s silly rules get in the way . . . KISS ME, YOU FOOL, and let me show you my inner glorwee . . .”
But then Alex looked at his watch.
“Uh-oh, damn, gotta dash. I’m meeting Candice and the others in Leeds.”
The Great world started rearranging itself into the Tallulah world.
I forced myself to smile.
“Oh yeah, I need to get a wiggle on. I’m off on, well, I’m, I should be going, too.”
Alex gave me another hug and said, “See you next weekend.”
How can I ever see Alex again? I am in my squirrel bed in a love daze. I must look at things factually.
In fact, I’m going to write the facts down in black and white in my DDD Diary.
The facts as I see them are:
1. Alex the Good said that if I were a bit older he would snog me. (He actually said that. That is a fact.)
2. One day I will be older.
3. In fact I will be one day older tomorrow.
4. And two days older on Sunday. In fact, I will pretty much be getting older all the time, every minute of the day. Unless the Bottomlys or Dr. Lightowler kill me.
5. He said “See you soon.” When he sees me “soon,” I will be older by however long “soon” is.
So if we take Fact 1 (him saying he would snog me if I was older) with Fact 5 (I will be older soon), the conclusion is he has more or less said that he will snog me, soon.
That’s how I see it.
But actually that is how a lunatic would see it. The actual facts are:
1. Even though it’s seven-thirty I am going to bed.
2. I told Alex that I had my nose licked by Cain.
3. I can never let Alex see my nose again.
4. Therefore, I can never see Alex again.
On Sunday I lurked about hiding behind the trees next to The Blind Pig so I could check that Alex wasn’t about. But Ruby caught me at it on her way back from walking Matilda.
She said, “What are you doing?”
I said, “Er, I was thinking of making a . . . leaf fan for . . . the, for—”
She said, “He’s gone back to college.”
And went into the pub tutting.
Thank goodness, at least I can let my nose run free.
In the afternoon, I was reading The Taming of the Shrew. It was a bit lonely in
the cottage with everyone out. And there is a lot of “forsooth!” and “nay” and so on in The Taming of the Tights and not so far, it has to be said, much snogging.
Oooh, I am so restless.
I could have gone foraging with the Dobbinses or to see The Iron Pies play in Blubberhouses with Ruby, but I didn’t feel in the mood. Normally I would have been larking about with my mates, but they are cooped up, being made to clean their dorm from top to bottom.
I needed to think about stuff in the fresh air. So I decided to go hunting for the owlets again. Wow, the Alex thing has really unsettled me.
What did he mean anyway about the kissing thing?
Does he mean he thinks about me like a real girl?
Or a real girl in the future?
Even though it was so early, it was dark down the back path. The trees cut out a lot of daylight even without leaves. And it was damp and drear. The sheep saw me and tried to get in the hedge. How could they remember me singing “The Sound of Music” to them on that fateful day when Cain did his nose-licking thing?
Thank goodness he’s not around.
He even spoils my life when he’s not here.
Brrrr, it’s cold. And damp. I wouldn’t like to be out on those black moors at night. Being shot at by Mrs. Bottomly.
On the bright side, if she does shoot him, that would mean he couldn’t tell anyone else about the snogging incident.
None of the Woolfe boys are around either. They have all been confined to barracks as well. It would be nice to have them, well, Charlie, for company looking for the owlets. He makes me laugh about them. He doesn’t make me feel so self-conscious about my knees or my lankiness or anything.
I wandered along the path, looking into the hedgerows for Lullah and Ruby. (It didn’t seem likely they would be up in the trees. Having seen their flying skills, I’m pretty sure they couldn’t hit a branch.)
I followed the path that led to the right. It curved back and passed very close to the bus stop, but no one could see me hidden by trees. Which was just as well because Seth and Ruben Hinchcliff were lolling against the wall talking to three of the Bottomly sisters.
There is a big family resemblance in the Hinchcliff boys.
They are all dark and brooding looking. And handsome, I suppose, if you like that dangerous wolf boy sort of look. Flossie will go wild when she finds out I’ve seen Seth in the flesh.
The Bottomlys have got a family resemblance as well. They are very big.
If I got a bit nearer, I might be able to hear what they were talking about. It was risky, but it could be worth it. I wonder if the girls are trying to get off with Seth and Ruben . . . that would be hilarious.
As I crept up, I heard Seth say, “For God’s sake, play another bloody record, Eccles. Give over mithering on about our Cain. Haven’t you got owt else to talk about?”
Eccles said, “Well. My sister might die because of your brother. He’s a bad un.”
Chastity went on. “She still won’t eat. She just lies there sobbing like her heart might brek. She’s not touched a thing since he went except a small pot of marmite a day.”
Diligence said, “Not even on bread, just the marmite.”
Seth said, “Look, Dil, Eccles, Chas, be reasonable—Beverley is in no immediate danger.”
Eccles said, “What, starving her sen to death?”
Seth said, “Well, she’s safe for a good few months anyway just living on her fat bum.”
Dil said, “You cheeky get.”
The boys were laughing and Ruben said, “Well, you’re all very well covered lasses, aren’t you?”
Seth joined in. “Which can be a lovely thing to behold, girls.”
Amazingly, the Bottomly sisters seemed to think that was all right.
Ruben said, “Any road, it’s tha mother tha should be talking to. She’s the one with the bloody big gun.”
The sisters turned to go, but then Eccles said something that made me shrink back into the shadows. “It’s all that daft long streak of lard’s fault he’s not around. Sniffing around him. Dressing up in daft clothes. Everything were awreet before they came. Them Dither Hall twits. Them bloody posh lah-di-dah madams. Tekin’ our lads. Especially that Loopy Lullah or whitever she calls her sen. Beverley says she went to find Cain and Loopy Lullah were there, pushing herself up to him reight close. Mekin’ eyes at him. Fawning all over him.”
The other two sisters nodded and Dil said, “And our Beverley wrote a letter to her. So she’s had her warning. If she dun’t clear off from our lads, she knows what she’ll get.”
Ruben said, “Oooooh, you didn’t threaten to sit on her, did tha, girls? That’s bloody criminal that.”
And he and Seth started laughing as the sisters evilled them and made off.
I felt a bit of a warm feeling towards the brothers even though they are awful. But I didn’t like the “Loopy Lullah” “long streak of lard” business. Being talked about behind your back was really not nice.
I was just about to creep off when Seth said, “Bloody hell, lasses are mad. Let’s go and gie him his tea and tell him the latest news from the village of the damned.”
Ruben said, “What’s all that stuff abaht them lasses from Dither Hall? Some of em are reight fit. And what abaht thee with that big lass? Wot’s her name?”
Seth spat.
Oh, charming.
“She’s a bit of awreet, that Flossie, just the right amount of meat on her and best of all she’s not like these milky lasses round here. They get on me nerves, always moaning and saying, ‘Ooooh, I love you, you’re me boyfriend now you snogged me.’ She’s got a bloody hefty right hand as well. But she’s a cracking snogger and a good laugh. Ah might let her near me.”
Ruben laughed.
I knew I should go away. But you know when you should go away because it’d be better all round if you did . . . but you don’t?
Well, I was doing that.
Ruben said, “What’s that daft Eccles going on abaht this lanky lass for? Loopy is she called? She’s that one that looks a bit wild, black hair, green eyes with them lanky legs, isn’t she? The one that sat on the blind bloke on the bus. Our Cain’s not messing with her, is he?”
Seth said, “Mebbe. Ah dun’t know. I wun’t be surprised. He’s not said owt but then he went out with your lass behind your back, didn’t he? You know Cain. He can’t leave lasses alone.”
Ruben said, “Ah know. That’s why he’s got a mad woman with a gun after him. I wun’t mind but we’ve got a Jones gig comin up. He’ll have to get it sorted.”
They went off.
They say you should never eavesdrop because you might hear something you don’t like. And I had. I’d heard that everyone knew I molested blind people. But worse, I’d heard that Cain can’t leave girls alone. Not that I didn’t know that because I did.
I’d been tainted by his nose-licking.
I wonder how many noses he had licked in his life.
Bucketfuls, I bet.
I walked back along the path. Brrrr, it was dark and cold. Like Cain. Dark, cold, and heartless. A heartless nose-licker. But he was something else as well.
The thing I’d vowed never to remember again.
The thing that, no matter how much I try to forget, I remember.
That wild night up on the moorland path. When he had said to me, “Will you do summat for me? I want thee to kiss me.”
And I had done.
He hadn’t made me. I had wanted to.
The truth is . . . I’d liked it.
That was the most terrible thing.
Besides being a nose-licker and a rusty crow and an all-round terrible human being . . . he was a great kisser.
I had kissed him back.
And I wanted to kiss him more.
Snogging and Jazzles
ON MONDAY MORNING, AS I walked over the bridge to the woodland path, I heard loud gunshots from up on the moors. Surely Mrs. Bottomly’s not up there already, looking for Cain? I know every
one says she couldn’t shoot a pig in a ginnel. Well, when I say everyone, I mean Ruby. But maybe Ruby’s wrong, maybe Mrs. Bottomly is really good at shooting pigs in ginnels. But I don’t know what a ginnel is.
And why would the pig be in this ginnel, whatever it is?
I would ask Ruby, but she just looks at me like I’m a half-wit when I ask her to explain Yorkshire things. Anyway, I can’t be bothered to worry about Cain. He certainly doesn’t worry about me. It’s beginning to be a pattern. Why do boys kiss me and then don’t want to do it again?
Perhaps I’m not doing it right.
Maybe I should suggest to the Tree Sisters that we try snogging practice on the backs of each other’s calves again.
Oh, hang on a minute, last time it was horrific.
It was all right with Honey, she made it seem natural and sort of scientific. Saying helpful stuff like, “Yeth, good, onwy a bit thofter and not tho toothy.” But when I did it on Flossie, she started her Southern belle thing, moaning and saying, “Oh, that is so goddam niiiiiiice, Miss Lullabelle.”
I wish Honey was still here. She used to make me feel good about myself. She thought I had oodles of “inner glorwee” just waiting to burst out. I miss her.
You don’t notice people not being around for a bit and then you think, “What’s missing?”
And it’s them.
Honey is so, so . . . Honeyish.
I bet she has loads of Hollywood boyfriends. Ones who say, “Have a nice day.”
And what else do Hollywood boys say? Oh, I know. If you say anything at all, like . . . er . . . , “Is your tea all right?” they say, “AWESOME.”
Honey knows about boys.
She likes them.
Really.
As if they’re normal people.
When I got to Dother Hall, the Tree Sisters were hanging around the door.
Vaisey said, “Oooh, Lullah, did you have a nice weekend? Tell us all about it. We were soooo bored.”
I said, “Well . . . I ate some bread made out of snail shells.”