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 o
f 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.
CHAPTER 13
“Just call me Fox. Blaise Fox.”
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 i
n 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.”