Flossie said, “Er, was that the highlight?”
I said, “No, lots of things happened but . . . Alex was at home and he said that he wouldn’t blame—er—a boy for wanting to kiss me, if I was a bit older!”
They all whooped.
Vaisey said, “What are you going to do?”
I said, “Get older?”
It’s drumming workshop day with Blaise and I’m really looking forward to seeing her because I want to tell her about my rap. And to explain the “winking incident” because Dr. Lightowler is sure to have told her.
I said to Flossie, “I think Blaise will appreciate my owl rap, unlike Dr. Lightowler.”
Flossie put her arm round me. “I don’t think Dr. Lightowler didn’t like your rap—it’s you she doesn’t like.”
Well, that gave me another lovely warm feeling.
Vaisey said, “Don’t worry, Lulles, she’ll see in the end how talented you are. And that you didn’t mean to wink at her.”
Jo said, “Shhh about Lullah and her winking. I need to drum. I am really good at hitting things.”
When we went into the hall there was no sign of Ms. Fox. Or any drums. Gudrun came in wearing a balaclava and said, “Rightio, girls. I’m afraid Ms. Fox has stepped in for Ms. Beaver, who has a migraine.”
Jo said, “Are you saying that Ms. Fox is having Ms. Beaver’s headache for her?”
Gudrun laughed nervously.
“No, no, girls—Ms. Fox has taken over at the ‘Zumba for the Mature Woman’ group in Little Waddle and I’m, well, I’m taking over for her! So let’s begin, girls, get into a circle.”
Jo said, “Where are the drums, Miss?”
Gudrun adjusted her balaclava.
“Well, the drum . . . yes, well, Ms. Fox has taken it with her to, er, to facilitate the Zumba.”
Flossie said, “Er, OK, but where are all the other drums for the drum workshop?”
“Well, this is the thing really, there is, erm, only one drum.”
Milly said, “So what are we going to be drumming with?”
Gudrun beamed and clapped her hands. “As they say, necessity is the mother of invention, sooooo . . . we’re going to have a CLAPPING workshop!!! Mittens off, girls!”
After what seemed like hours, the bell went for lunch.
Jo was kicking stuff, doors and everything. She said, “That was so boring. What is the point of spending an hour clapping?”
Vaisey said, “Well, I suppose it teaches you—er—coordination and teamwork.”
Jo was still grumpy. “No. I’ll tell you what it teaches you—it teaches you not to come to a college where there’s a drumming workshop without any drums.”
Vaisey tried to put her arm round Jo. “What’s the matter?”
Jo said, “It’s my fault that we haven’t had any fun, isn’t it? That we’re all cooped up here and made to run round the perimeter wall in our sports knickers.”
Vaisey said, “Well, erm, it’s not really you, is it? I mean, it’s more your boyfriend really.”
Flossie said, “Who, to be frank, only came through our window to see you, so I suppose officially, not to put too fine a point on it . . . Yeah, it is your fault.”
I kicked Flossie and she said, “Oy, that’s my best leg.”
Jo was going on. “I’ve let the school down, I’ve let my parents down, I’ve let the Royal Shakespeare Company down, but most of all I’ve let myself down.”
To cheer Jo up I said, “Yes, that’s true, but look, why don’t I go to our tree today? If the boys turn up they’ll tell me how Phil is.”
Jo nodded miserably. “What if they’ve sent him away as punishment?”
I said, “Jo, he’s already sent away as punishment. He’s at Punishment Headquarters.”
Jo said, “Anyway, it’s not the same if you go. Why can’t I go?”
Jo was impossible to be with for the rest of the afternoon. Kicking chairs and doors and sighing and moaning. Then she deliberately ripped down Bob’s notice about paper towels.
Vaisey said, “I’ll have to do something. I’m going to go and ask Sidone if we can go into the woods to practice an outdoor scene from The Taming of the Shrew.”
Jo said, “Fat chance. What idiot would fall for that?”
Vaisey came back ten minutes later, curly and floppy and smiley. She said, “We’re allowed!” And we gave her the full Tree Sisters hug.
Jo said, “I’m not being biased, but I’ve always liked you best, Vaisey.”
Vaisey went red and said, “Erm, we are allowed to go, but Sidone has phoned Hoppy and he says the culprit is under strict observation twenty-four hours a day and will not be allowed out.”
Boo.
We got togged up in the loos and trundled off into the woods.
Jo was stomping along ahead of us.
“It’s not fair! This is against my human rights. My boyfriend is being held prisoner in a free country. I may do a protest. I’m going to stop washing.”
Flossie said, “Well, that would make Bob’s day. I think he’s got a master plan to make us stop using water altogether. I’m sure he says the loos are out of order on purpose.”
Vaisey said, “Well, there was a vole blockage.”
Flossie said, “Yeah, but have you thought how the vole got there in the first place? Did it have a vole ladder to get up the side of the loo?”
I couldn’t help thinking that Flossie had a point.
Vaisey linked up with me. “Anyway, what else happened at the weekend, Lulles? I so wanted to go out and see Jack. I’m really missing him. Did you see anyone else besides Alex and Ruby?”
Flossie said, “Yes, did you see any menfolk? Any handsome menfolk? What about those Hinchcliff boys?”
“Well, I went down the back lane last night looking for the owlets. . . .”
Flossie said, “Did you hear me say MENFOLK?”
I looked at her, then went on. “And I heard Seth and Ruben talking to the Bottomlys by the bus stop.”
Now I’d got her attention.
I said, “Yeah, the Bottomlys told them about Beverley’s threatening letter. Seth and Ruben were quite funny about it actually. They said, ‘Oooooh, you didn’t threaten to sit on her, did tha, girls?’ And I laughed—inwardly—because obviously I didn’t want to be sat on. Anyway, the Bottomly sisters said that Dother Hall girls were posh lah-di-dah madams. Taking their lads.”
Flossie said, “So they do like us! Get to the point about Seth. Did he say anything about me?”
I said, “Yes, he did, he’s so full of himself—they’re all alike those Hinchcliffs. He said that you were a ‘bit of awreet’ and you had ‘a bloody hefty right hand’ and that you were ‘a cracking snogger’ and he might let you be near him.”
I thought she’d be furious but Flossie seemed very pleased. She started swaying along, saying, “Why, that Mr. Seth, he dun talk real naaice.”
As I was about to explain that, like all Hinchcliffs, he was a creature from the dark lagoon, we heard an awful groaning and moaning. Like someone in agony.
We all huddled together and tried to make ourselves very small.
The groaning was coming nearer and there was also a crashing sound. Like something beastly dragging itself towards us.
Then Phil crawled out of the undergrowth!!!
Dragging a ball and chain. Attached to his leg.
He looked up at us imploringly and said in a husky voice, “Jo, Jo, girls, girls, for pity’s sake, save yourselves; the dogs will be on to me soon.”
And he fell unconscious.
Jo rushed over. “Phil! My God, what have they done to you? It was only a potting shed.” And she cradled his head on her lap.
Phil said weakly, “Hoppy . . . he did this. To keep me away from you.”
Jo looked like she was going to cry. “Does it hurt anywhere?”
Phil said, “Yes, just here.” And he weakly raised his hand to his mouth. As Jo bent to have a look, he snogged her.
What?
Th
ere was more crashing and Jack and Ben came running up. As they bent over, panting, Charlie jogged in. I felt myself going red so I put my head down.
Charlie said, “I think we’ve shaken them off, lads. Oh, hello, girls, what a lovely surprise!”
I sneaked a look up. Jo was still snogging Phil. For someone who couldn’t walk he certainly seemed to have quite a lot of strength in his lips. Ben and Jack were smoothing their hair down and smiling. Vaisey had gone all red and couldn’t look at Jack. Charlie gave me a wide smile and a thumbs-up.
Jo stopped snogging Phil and hit him on the arm. She shouted, “I’ve been really worried about you!!!”
Phil said, “I know but it’s taken me over an hour to crawl here with this ball and chain. It’s been hell.”
Jo hugged him again.
I don’t really think it’s right to chain boys up, even if they are Phil.
Only Flossie was calm. She said, “Nice to see you, boys. You sure look all tuckered out. Fortunately I’ve got an emergency stash of Jazzles. Anyone want one?”
Phil made a startling recovery by jumping to his feet, picking up his ball and chain, and leaping over to Flossie. “Oh yeah, dreams do come true . . . snogging and Jazzles!”
Jo looked amazed. Not quite as amazed as when Phil started kicking the ball on the end of his chain, doing keepie-uppie with it.
We should have been cross, but it really made us laugh.
Phil said, “I know, lifelike, isn’t it? You never know when a rubber ball and chain will come in handy.”
Jo punched him on the arm again. Phil said, “You cheeky scamp.”
And that’s when she got him in a headlock.
Vaisey and Jack quietly sloped off and sat on a tree stump together. Flossie zoned in on Ben, which made his fringe go very floppy. She pinned him against a tree with an arm above his head. This time he looked like a pleased but very startled earwig.
So that just left me and Charlie.
Please don’t let me start the mad Irish dancing.
Charlie came closer. “So are you pleased to see us? We made a mad dash for it when the fire alarms went off.”
I started to say, “Yep, I really am glad to see you. . . . It’s nice to see you. Did you do anything nice at the weekend?”
Charlie smiled more. “Er, yes, thanks. Not much happened, us being under house arrest. Yourself?”
“Well, yes, quite a few things happened. Well, two things happened. Well, no, it’s more like three things happened . . .”
What am I talking about?
In the distance we heard a dog whistle and Charlie said, “Tallulah, I’m longing to hear about the ‘things that happened’—I love your ‘things.’ I don’t always know what you’re talking about, but I love them . . . but we have to get back now. Hoppy can’t keep this punishment thing up for much longer; once he realizes that we’re all grown-ups and can be trusted we’ll be out to play again. Then you can tell me about all the things that have happened.”
Jo and Phil were having a serious talk. Then Jo said something and they shook hands. What was all that about?
Charlie said to the others, “Lads, we need to cut and run. I think Hoppy has realized that the fire in the chimney is just a smoke bomb.”
Vaisey was on cloud nine all day after seeing Jack.
And Flossie said, “Why, ladeez, toying with that boy Ben has perked me up, y’all.”
But Jo was a bit funny. Sort of thoughtful, which is unusual in someone so violent.
The next day when I got into Dother Hall, Flossie and Vaisey came scampering out. Jo wasn’t with them. Vaisey said breathlessly, “Jo went and gave herself up to Sidone!”
Flossie said, “Yeah, she told us all last night that she was going to do it. She said it wasn’t fair that everyone was suffering and that she was going to tell Sidone everything and take her punishment like a man.”
I said, “But she’s not a man.”
Flossie said, “No, but she has an Inner Man, doesn’t she? He can take the punishment.”
Bob went clanking by. I think he’s trying to grow sideburns. He said, “Peace out, dudes.”
We didn’t see Jo until break. She came to the café looking very downcast. She sat down and said, “Whatever anyone tells you, never, ever tell the truth. It’s not worth it. The rest of you are free but . . . my life is over.”
Vaisey said, “Sidone hasn’t expelled you, has she?!”
Jo said, “No, no, it’s far worse than that.”
Vaisey put her arm round her. “What is it, Jo? You can tell us. We can help.”
Jo said, “No, this is something I simply have to do myself, alone.”
Flossie said, “What?”
Jo said, “I’ve to assist Bob in his duties.”
Dear God!! That is harsh.
Jo has to start her new duties immediately. We saw her going off with Bob. He was clanking along, saying, “OK, dude, we’ll start with my new insulation idea. I’ve been collecting egg boxes for some time and I want us to Sellotape them to the windows in the dance studio to keep the heat in. I’ve seen egg boxes used at Glasto—very cool.”
Jo wearily said, “But then it’d be dark all the time, Bob. In fact, it would be pointless having windows. We might as well brick them up.”
Bob said, “Hmm, good point, let’s keep thinking out of the box—egg box–wise.”
When I got back to Dandelion Cottage, the kitchen was full of Wellington boots covered in mud and a bird’s nest (probably going to be made into some sort of hat. Or it might already be a hat). Oh and the usual moss and a jam jar with some sort of newts in it.
I shouted out “Helloooo” and Dibdobs shouted from upstairs, “Hellloooo, Lullah, we’re all in the bath getting the mud off.”
That must be a sight, Dibdobs and the lunatic twins in the bath together!
Then Harold shouted down, “Yes, it’s a squeeze, Lullah . . . but . . . it’s fun, isn’t it, boys?”
There was a lot of splashing and wild laughing from the twins and then Dibdobs shouting, “Now then, Max, get down from the sink because we don’t . . .”
There was an enormous splash and shouting, “Me in my bumbums!!!!!” Then hysterical laughing from the lunatic twins and shouting from Harold.
“You’re being very silly, boys! Don’t . . . now look, Sam, this has gone far enough. DO NOT make Dicky dive from the . . .”
And there was another splash and mad laughing.
I made a sandwich (not out of moss) and took it up to my squirrel room. There was water coming from under the bathroom door. I carefully closed my door to eat my local sandwich in peace.
I can’t help thinking about Charlie. It was so nice to see him yesterday. I feel like I can be myself around him. A bit nervy but not entirely mad. I wish I could get to know him better. It’s not very likely at this rate. Just bumping into him in the woods now and again. That’s more like having an elf for a friend.
Half an hour later it seemed quiet in the bathroom, so I took a chance and went to the loo. Dibdobs was reading a story to the boys in their bedroom. I could hear her saying, “And the big bad wolf said, ‘Come nearer, my dear.’ And Little Red Riding Hood said, ‘Ooooh, Grandma, what a big nose you’ve got,’ and the wolf said—”
Sam or Max shouted, “Look at my big bum, it’s SJUUUGE—”
Dibdobs shouted, “Boys, will you STOP this silly bum thing.”
The boys were hysterical with laughter. Poor Dibdobs.
About eight o’clock I heard the door open and someone come in downstairs. Oh good, it might be Ruby; I could do with some company.
A voice called up, “Harold, are you in? It’s Maurice. I’ve got an unusual leaf mold you might be interested in.”
Harold yelled, “I’m on my way down, forager friend!”
Poor, poor Dibdobs. But she doesn’t seem to mind Harold and his foraging.
I wonder if they snog, Dibdobs and Harold.
I wonder what number they’ve got to on my Lululuuuve
List?
Oh Angel Gabriel on a tricycle, that’s made me feel really embarrassed and hot. I’m blushing, thinking about the “you know who”s even getting to Number 1 on the Lululuuuve List. I must think about something different.
It seems ages ago that I snogged Charlie. Weeks and weeks, but I can still remember what it felt like. I know, I’m going to try and re-create the snog on the back of my hand. If I half open my mouth and press it on my hand, I can see what that feels like. Mmm. It’s nice. I’ll apply a bit more pressure. And move my lips.
Nice. I’m quite good at this. I remember that he slightly put the tip of his tongue on the inside of my lips as he kissed me. I’ll try that. Oooooh, it tickles!
Mmmmmmmm. All warm and softy.
I’m going to update my Lululuuuve List in my Darkly Demanding Damson Diary with the latest snogging info.
1. Hand resting
2. Corker-holder release
I wonder for the sake of science if I should include the lunatic twins kissing my knees as Number 3. No that’s too weird.
3. Bat kiss or good-night kiss (with or without a little bat in your mouth)
4. Nose-licking
5. Proper kiss possibly lasting two minutes, with additional praise for knees
OOOOOHHH, Charlie.
6. Proper kiss with lips, tongues, and everything
I woke up in the middle of the night thinking about my Lululuuuve List. Should I, for absolute accuracy, add “mental snogging”? Because that’s what I’d done when I kissed the back of my hand and pretended it was Charlie.
Maybe “mental snogging” should be Number 2 and corker-holder release should be Number 3. Although, if I’m including all of my experiences, should I also include feeling my own corkers with thick winter socks on my hands?
Maybe not.
The magic of puppetry
NEXT MORNING IT WAS a bright day. I set off for Dother Hall, thinking about what we’ve got at college today. No Dr. Lightowler, thank goodness, and a session called “The Magic of Puppetry” with Monty—how mad will that be—as I reached the bend in the road near the sign for Woolfe Academy.