The Misadventures of Tallulah Casey 3-Book Collection: Withering Tights, A Midsummer Tights Dream and A Taming of the Tights. Louise Rennison. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Louise Rennison
Издательство: HarperCollins
Серия:
Жанр произведения: Детская проза
Год издания: 0
isbn: 9780007557202
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laughed. “Too far up? Let me feel.”

      What????

      I got off the wall and started backing away from him.

      He said, “Go on.”

      I lost control then and said quite loudly, “Forget it. You will never see the knees.”

      And then he laughed and I started laughing as well. It was so ridiculous.

      Just then Lavinia and Dav and Noos came pootling along on their bikes. They stopped when they saw us. Lavinia said, “Hi, Tallulah. Oiright? Top of the morning to you.”

      She looked at Alex properly and you could almost see her eyes going ‘wow’. He did have the ‘wow’ factor.

      Then she said to Alex, “Oh hi. Sorry to interrupt, I don’t think we’ve met.”

      He said, “No, I think I would probably have remembered.”

      And she laughed. And looked at him again. Like Honey said you should. Right in the eyes and also for a bit too long.

      Oh no. She liked him.

      Alex said, “So are you all at Dother Hall? I might be coming up soon, I know Monty and he’s giving me a bit of coaching.”

      Noos clearly impressed said, “Oh, are you an actor, then?”

      Alex said, “I’d like to be, I’ve got a place at Liverpool next year.”

      Lavinia said, “I’m surprised you are talking to us, then.”

      And she smiled, and Alex said, “Are you?” In a sort of strange meaningful way which I didn’t really get.

      Then I got it, because Lavinia said, “Well, come and look for me when you come up to the college. It would be nice to see you.”

      And Alex said, “And it would be nice to see you.”

      And then there was another pause.

      It was like being in Alice in Wonderland again. But I wasn’t Alice. Once more I was the playing card. At the back.

      In my squirrel room I lay on my bed with my squirrel slippers on. It seems like a really mean world, where some people get born with average knees and proper corkers and some people can’t even find a category for their head in a magazine. Like me. That sort of person.

      I am so miserable.

      And alone.

      I heard the door open and a lot of hooting and noise downstairs.

      “Hellllooooo house. Look, look boys, the house is happy to see us. Sam, don’t put your tadpoles on the—Oh dear.”

      The Dobbins are back.

      I heard a lot of running and scampering and then footsteps up the stairs.

      Dibdobs said through the door, “Tallulah…helloooo. We’re back…We’ve got lots of things to show you…The boys wanted to say goodnight to you. Didn’t you, boys?”

      I heard them saying, “Eth.”

      Dibdobs was wearing a special outfit, knitted out of bits of string. I couldn’t help staring at it.

      She sort of blushed. “It’s nice, isn’t it? Unusual.”

      I said, “Yes, it is very unusual.”

      “Harold made me it on his Iron Man weekends.”

      I should have stopped myself, but I said, “What are Iron Man weekends? Does he go ironing, for the weekend?”

      She laughed and snorted, “Lullah is being a silly billy, isn’t she, boys?”

      They blinked at me, Max said, “Shitty billy.”

      Dibdobs went even more red. “No, darling it’s SILLY Billy.”

      Sam said, “SHITTY Billy.”

      Dibdobs manically started stroking his hair down into an even more puddingy style. She said, “No, it’s not an ironing weekend, worse luck!!!! It’s when men go away together to find themselves. In the woods.”

      Men finding themselves in the woods, well, why were they having to do that when they must have gone to the woods in the first place? Apparently it’s something to do with sweat lodges and living off the land. I didn’t want the picture of Harold in a sweat lodge in my head.

      Dibdobs said, “It’s mostly made of leftover bits of string.”

      Lovely.

      I said, “Well, goodnight, boys.”

      And the boys blinked back at me. Max came and hugged one of my knees. I even found myself ruffling his basin head.

      At least he likes my knees.

      Dibdobs said, “Are you alright, Tallulah? Are you missing home a bit?”

      Actually, I suppose I was a bit, but I would still have the same problems there.

      I said, “No, it’s just…you know…”

      She said, “Growing up?”

      Oh great balls of fire, was I growing even more?

      Dibdobs said to me, “You need a big hug.”

      And she gave me one.

      Then she said, “We’re going off to read our book, aren’t we boys? Tell Tallulah who it’s about.”

      “Bogie.”

      Dibdobs went puce.

      “Now boys, we’ve stopped using that silly word, because we are BIG boys now, aren’t we?

      Max said, “Sjuuge boys.”

      Dibdobs laughed nervously. “Alright darling, HUGE boys, and huge boys know that the book we are reading is…Alice in Wonderland, isn’t it?”

      The boys nodded, and Max said, “Wiv a smiley cat!!”

      Dibdobs laughed like he had just built an electricity pylon single-handedly. “Yes, tell Lullah about the Cheshire Cat.”

      And both of them smiled at me in the maddest way you have ever seen. Like their whole heads were one big mouth.

      As she shooed them away, Sam turned round and took his dodie out. “Sjuuge cat, in Bogie bogie in Wunnerlant.”

      

      About an hour later, I was still tossing and turning and thinking how unfair everything was when there was a knock at my door again. It was my new ‘dad’ this time. Harold had a book in his hand.

      “When I was at the Iron Man camp we did a lot of talking around the campfire. You know, men don’t often get to reveal their softer side. And reading stories to each other as we lay around in the loin cloths we had woven was revealing.”

      Oh nooo. He wasn’t going to come and read a book to me, was he?

      He had a dressing gown on and a pipe.

      He fiddled in his pocket. Oh no, was he going to offer me a pipe as well, like they did round the campfire.

      He brought out a little book and said, “Thought you might be interested in this,” and gave it to me. Then he left.

      I may as well read it a bit.

      I might be able to get some ideas for a performance out of it.

      At least it will stop me thinking about Lavinia and Alex – and Cain. The book was called Heathcliff: Saint or Sinner – really bad or just really upset?

      Oh no. No. This is not going to help me cheer up. I am going to write some of my own stuff in my performance art notebook.

      Hmmmm.