Withering Tights, Page 3

  I looked shyly down. Which is pretty impressive to have done artistic laugh, quirky language and shyness all in the space of ten seconds. Anyway, I looked shyly down, and then shyly up, because the lunatic owl brothers were lying on the floor looking up at me, blinking and sucking on their dodies.

  I said, “I need to prepare myself. You know, limber up…my artistic…muscles. Soak up the atmosphere, maybe read Jane Eyre. Anyway, have a lovely evening guessing who bludgeoned who to death.”

  I left Dibdobs stuffing the insane brothers into their nightshirts. They didn’t even take their dodies out when she pulled their owl heads through.

  I’ve painted my nails a midnight blue colour and I think I will wear mostly black tomorrow. To blend in. It will be funny not wearing a uniform to go to school. And to wear a bit of make-up.

  I stayed for ages in the bath. Some of the girls at my school at home were really ‘mature’ for their age. Kate and Siobhan had bras. And a few of them were getting hair under their arms.

  If you don’t get bosomy bits by a certain age does that mean you won’t ever get them? I read in one of the magazines that handling them makes them grow.

  Maybe I will try rubbing mine about a bit with the soap. To encourage them.

  Half an hour later.

  My arms are killing me.

  Even if my lady chest bits don’t grow I am going to have strong arms. If there is a trapeze class I will be very good at it.

  Also I will have very clean lady chest bits.

  When I came out of the bathroom the twins were staring at me from the hall. Sucking on their dodies. They’re not tall enough to look through the keyhole of the bathroom door, are they? They couldn’t have seen me making my lady chest bits grow, could they?

  I went off to my room.

  I could chart my progress.

  Maybe do a bit of measuring.

  You know, legs: 8ft high. Lady chest bits: one inch each.

  I wonder if I can find another word for my non-chest bits…?

  Norkers?

  Ping-pong balls in a string bag?

  Honkers?

  Corkers?

  Actually, I quite like corkers. Well, I would if I actually had any corkers.

  But I am in fact corker-less.

  I went into my squirrel room and was just looking for a book to read when the door creaked open and revealed the twins. Sucking and looking. I don’t know why they like to look at me so much. Just looking and sucking. I looked back at them and then Dibdobs came bustling in and said, “Boys, there you are! What do you say at nightie-night time to Tallulah?”

  Sam said, “Bogie.”

  Dibdobs went a bit red and she said, “No, that’s a silly word, isn’t it? We say ‘Night night, Tallulah’. You boys say it now. Night night, Tallulah…”

  The boys just stared, then Max said, “Ug oo.”

  And turned and went off.

  Dibdobs said, “Yes, that’s right, but say ‘Ug oo, Tallulah’.”

  Sam said, “Ug oo.”

  And Dibdobs said, “Tallulah.”

  And Sam said, “Bogie.”

  Dibdobs ushered him out. “Silly, silly word. Don’t say it any more. Let’s have a little story. Shall we read about Thomas the Tank Engine?”

  “Bogie.”

  I’m reading Jane Eyre tonight for that Yorkshire grimness. I’ve got up to the bit when Jane goes back to see Mr Rochester, and the hall is burnt to smithereens and he is blind.

  Yarooo!

  And it is probably raining and foggy.

  CHAPTER 3

  Your feet will bleed

  Before you experience the golden slippers of applause

  When I woke up I was all of a tremble. I’m going to open my note from Georgia to calm me down. A bit of grown-up advice from someone older and wiser. Who has snogged.

  Dear Tallulah,

  Remember. A boy in the hand is worth two on the bus.

  Luuurve Georgia x

  What bus?

  I washed my hair and it’s still damp, but at least it’s swishy. Swishy hair can get you a long way.

  The Dobbins gave me a family hug and I wentoff to meet Vaisey by the post office. It was a bright, sunny day and she was wearing a little red skirt, leggings, a red denim jacket and a cheeky little hat.

  She said, “I didn’t sleep much, did you?”

  I said, “No, I had this dream that I went on stage and realised that I’d forgotten my knees, so my legs were all floppy, and I was flopping around.”

  Vaisey looked at me.

  As we walked along the woodland path to Dother Hall, we saw another sign pointing in the opposite direction. It said:

  ‘Woolfe Academy for Young Men’

  Cor, love a duck. And also Lawks-a-mercy. I said that inwardly, but outwardly I said, “Blimey, and also, what larks, it looks like there’s going to be tons of boys around.”

  Vaisey’s face went as red as her little hat.

  And I must say I had butterflies playing ping-pong in my tummy. But what if the boys were like Connor and his mates, farting and tripping us up?

  It only took us twenty minutes to walk to the Hall. It was a lovely walk if you like baa-ing. Which I sort of did this morning.

  Then we rounded a corner and saw before us the ‘magnificent centre of artistry’, Dother Hall. I couldn’t help noticing its fine Edwardian front and the fact that its roof was on fire.

  As we looked up at the flames and smoke a figure emerged on to the roof in between the high chimney pots.

  I said to Vaisey, “Bloody hell, it’s Mrs Rochester. Bagsie I’m not Jane Eyre, I don’t want to get married to some blind bloke who shouts a lot.”

  Vaisey said, “It can’t really be Mrs Rochester, can it?”

  I said, “Well, you say that, but it all adds up, doesn’t it? We’re in Yorkshire on some moors at a big house, the roof’s on fire and someone, who may or may not have been banged up in the attic for years, has just come out on to the roof. I’m only stating the obvious. Who else could it be?”

  Then we noticed that ‘Mrs Rochester’ was wearing a macintosh and carrying a fire extinguisher. And she started putting the fire out with foam.

  After the fire was out Mrs Rochester disappeared amongst the chimneys.

  We went up the steep front steps into a huge entrance hall where about twenty girls were giggling and shuffling about. It’s funny being in a place where you don’t know one single person. Well, apart from a person you only met the day before.

  Vaisey said, “That girl over there by the bust of Nelson is standing in first position from ballet.”

  Never mind about ballet positions, where were all the boys?

  Suddenly a woman in a pinafore dress, with her hair in a mad bun, burst through the door. She had a clipboard.

  Over the noise she yelled, “Guten tag, fräulein und wilkommen.”

  Then she started laughing. Well, honking really to be accurate.

  She said, “The joke is, girls, I’m not German. You don’t have to be crazy to work here, but it helps!!!!!”

  And she was off hooting again.

  “So, let’s get to know each other. I am Gudrun Sachs and I pretty much run the place! Well, I am the principal’s secretary. First of all, I want to take your names and tick you off!! No, no, not tell you off, just put a little tick next to your names. Off we jolly well gehen.”

  She pointed to Vaisey, “You dear, name, dear?”

  Vaisey went red and said, “Vaisey Davenport.”

  Gudrun did a big tick on her list.

  Then she pointed her pen at me.

  I said, “Tallulah Casey.”

  Gudrun said, “Oh Begorrah, begorrah, to be sure.”

  Crumbs.

  She went round the group, and I tried to remember some of the girls; there was Jo and Flossie and Pippy and Becka, Honey, I think, I do remember Milly and Tilly because they rhymed. But unfortunately I was so busy thinking that their names rhymed I can’t remember who is who.

/>   As we were being ticked off, Mrs Rochester came barging through, covered in foam. Gudrun said, “Everything back to normal in the fire department, Bob?”

  Mrs Rochester, otherwise known as Bob, said, “The fire’s out but I’ve singed my ponytail in the process.”

  He had actually. Well, not so much singed as burnt half of it off. The ends were all frazzled. He said, “I’ve been growing it since Wizard split. It’s an old friend.”

  Gudrun said, “Perhaps if you trimmed off the singed bits it could be more of a…a…bob?”

  Then she started chortling with laughter. “Do you see what I did there…Bob is called Bob and then I made a wordplay about his ponytail.”

  After he’d gone, Gudrun said, “Bob is our technician-come-handyman. We have this very funny joke about Bob. If we are looking for him, someone might say, ‘Bob about?’ and that is the signal for the rest of us to start, you know, ‘Bob-ing about’.”

  And she started jumping up and down and bobbing about.

  “Do you see? Taking the expression ‘bob about’ literally. Do you see?”

  We all just looked at her.

  As she led us into the main hall, I said to Vaisey, “Where are the boys? Where is Martin and his tiny instrument?”

  Vaisey said, “I don’t know, perhaps he was just a model.”

  I looked at her. “What, you mean, made out of plasticine?”

  Vaisey said, “No, you know, not really a student, but a model pretending to be a student.”

  I didn’t know what to say.

  We went to sit down.

  The hall had a stage at the end of it with a film screen set up. I sat on the end of a row, and Vaisey was next to a small black-haired girl. She had black shiny eyes as well. A bit like a human conker. I don’t mean she didn’t have any arms and legs and was on a piece of string, but anyway…

  Vaisey and I said hello to her, and she said, “I’m Jo. I know you think I’m quite short, but I’m deceptively strong.”

  Um.

  She said, “I am.”

  I said, “I didn’t say you weren’t.”

  Jo said, “No, but because I’m short you’re thinking, she can’t really be that strong. She might be quite strong for a short-arse, but she’s not ordinarily strong.”

  What was she going on about? I said, “I hadn’t noticed that you were short, anyway.”

  She said, “Well I am.”

  I said, “I’m not saying you’re not, I am just saying that I hadn’t noticed, so if I hadn’t noticed that might mean that…”

  She stood up and I said, “Jesus, Mary and Joseph, you are short, aren’t you? Are you sure you’re not crouching down?”

  Jo said, “You see, you see! You do think I’m short.”

  I said, “Well, you are. Compared to me, I mean. But then I’m too tall, really.”

  She’d gone a bit red now and said, “Alright, but you just have a go at pushing me over, then we’ll see who’s short.”

  Vaisey said, “I don’t think that…pushing and so on is…”

  Jo said to me, “Go on.”

  This was less Fame!!! And more ‘Fight!’

  I said, “I don’t want to, I might hurt you.”

  She said, “That is what you think, but you just wait. Honestly, you’ll get a surprise.”

  I thought I would give her a bit of a shove to be polite. Unfortunately, I did it just as she was turning round to put her bag on her seat. I didn’t push her very hard, but she still careered sideways over two empty chairs and headfirst into a big girl’s lap. Who said, “Oy.”

  When Jo got up her face was nearly as red as Vaisey’s hat. But she had pluck, I would give her that. She smoothed down her hair and said, “I wasn’t ready, try again.”

  I said, “Look, can we just leave it that I think you are really strong and—”

  She said, “You’re scared you’ll hurt yourself.”

  I said, “Oh, alright.”

  This time she tensed herself. I stepped back to get a proper run up and said to Vaisey, “Would you mind moving, Vaisey, so I can knock this person, who I have only just met, into the middle of next week!”

  At which point I felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked round and up to see a tall thin woman in a cloak. She said, “Name?” And not in a nice interested way.

  I said, “Tallulah Casey.”

  And she got out a little notepad, and said out loud as she wrote…“Ta-llu-lah Caaaaasee-y.”

  Then she shut the notepad with a snap and said, “Now let me tell you my name, it’s Doctor Lightowler.”

  I kept my face straight and didn’t say really slowly, “Aaaaah Doooooctor Liiiiightowwwwler.”

  The Doctor said, “We shall come to know each other very well, Ta-llu-lah Caaa-sey.”

  And she didn’t seem to mean, getting to know each other in a friendy-wendy way.

  As she went off, Jo said, “Well I thought that went well, didn’t you? I think she secretly likes you. But don’t worry, I will protect you from her.”

  And she put her arm in mine. I think things were going quite well. In a friendy-wendy way.

  A funny clock chimed somewhere and a door to the right of the stage opened. A woman in white suede cowboy boots and a fringed jacket walked slowly to the front of the stage and looked out intently.

  We looked back at her.

  She looked back at us.

  Then finally, in a throaty posh voice she said, “Welcome, fellow artistes. You see how I have got your attention. I have made this stage my own. In a few short weeks, we will teach you the same skills. You too will fill the stage.”

  I nudged Vaisey, but she seemed to be hypnotised by the stage-filling idea.

  The woman went on, “I am Sidone Beaver. Not Sid-one Beaver, or Sid-ony Beaver but Sid-o-nee Beaver, principal of Dother Hall. Here to guide you to the theatre of dreams. Think of me less as a headmistress and more like…the keeper of the gateway…of your flight to…the stars.”

  Jeepers creepers.

  Sid-o-nee was still filling the stage.

  “I know you sit before me, young, nervous. You think, how could I ever be like her? But I can still remember my own beginnings in this crazy, heartbreaking, cruel, wonderful, mad, mad world of art. The highs, the lows…let me not mince words, let me not blind you with dreams. There is no easy passage, no free lunch, this is a tough path…Your feet will bleed before you experience the golden slippers of applause!”

  We looked at our feet.

  Soon to be bleeding.

  Sidone went on, “By the end of these few short weeks, some of you will be the ‘chosen’ and some of you will be the ‘unchosen’.”

  When Sidone left the stage we were shown a film of students working at different projects at Dother Hall.

  Ooh, look, here were students tap dancing, and some sword fighting in the woods. Students making a papier mâché sculpture.

  Jo whispered, “Why are they making a big stool?”

  Vaisey said, “It’s an elephant.”

  Jolly students painting outdoors. What a hoot! There was one photo of students dressed in black jumpsuits with painted white faces, looking at a motorbike.

  I said to Vaisey, “What are they supposed to be?”

  She shrugged.

  The caption said at the end: Students produce a mime version of Grease.

  Of course.

  But funnily enough, although there were one or two shots of male teachers – oh, and Bob banging at stuff with a wrench – there were no boys around.

  Until right at the end.

  At last.

  There was Martin making his tiny instrument. I elbowed Vaisey. “Look, there’s Martin with his lute!”

  There was a break afterwards. I felt quite dazed. ‘Chosen’ – ‘unchosen’ – ‘bleeding feet’ – ‘golden slippers of applause’?

  We followed the signs to the café. Vaisey, me and Jo.

  Jo said, “I’m really, really excited, aren’t you? I didn’t sleep a wink last nig
ht, well it wasn’t the excitement of course, it was because of the whole dorm thing.”

  Vaisey nodded. “I’d quite like to see the dorm, actually. I wonder if…”

  Jo said, “Oh, you weren’t here last night, were you?

  Vaisey said, “No. I was supposed to be here, but my bed wasn’t quite ready, or something.”

  Jo laughed grimly. “Be glad you weren’t in it, because that’s where the roof came in – over your bed. Bob nailed up an old blanket to keep the bats out and I think that is what caught fire. I’m not surprised, really, when Milly switched on her bedside lamp, it was giving off sparks. There was a dead pigeon in the loo. Maybe electrocuted.”

  As we got our tea and biccies I said to the other girls, “I don’t want to go on about Martin and his lute, but, where is Martin and his lute? And where are Martin’s mates?”

  We looked at Jo.

  Jo said, “Ahh, you mean Martin and his mates. Well, Dother Hall used to be mixed, but there was some sort of incident involving a game called ‘twenty-five in a duvet cover’ and since then boys are banned.”

  I said, “What a swizz. Still, at least there’s Woolfe Academy.”

  We asked Jo if she knew anything about it.

  She said, “No, but I would like to. At home, I’m at an all-girls school.”

  After break we were taken on a tour of the theatre department by Bob. I think he has given his ponytail a quick trim.

  He was wearing a T-shirt that said ‘Fat men are harder to kidnap’.

  Bob said, “Sit down on the floor, Mr de Courcy will be with you in a minute. Don’t play around with the lights, dudes.”

  As he went out, we saw that his T-shirt had ROCK on the back and that he was wearing very low-slung jeans with a belt that had all sorts of hammers and stuff hanging off it. And unfortunately, I think it is pulling his trousers down. I didn’t want to look but there was something pale peeping out under his T-shirt. I think it may be his bottom.