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Ruby rolled her eyes at me.
“Come on then, soft lass.”
We went across the green to The Blind Pig and Ruby ran up the back stairs to her room.
I was hovering around by the door. With a bit of luck, I wouldn’t have to bump into Ted… at which point Ted Barraclough, Ruby’s dad, came out of the front bar.
I couldn’t help noticing he had a Viking helmet on.
And a guitar in his hand.
And was wearing a very tight pair of leather trousers. He was walking with small steps.
His whole big face lit up when he saw me. Oh dear.
“Well, what a lovely surprise – the thespian is back at last. Thank the Lord. Now then. Don’t tell me, let me guess what you are pretending to be this time.”
I said politely, “Hello, Mr Barraclough, I—”
He waved his helmet about.
“No, dun’t tell me, dun’t tell me… Are you a historic figure? I’m thinking the woolly tights. Your rain hat, the slight roll as you walk. Are you Nelson? I’m right, aren’t I?”
I said, “I’m not doing mime I’m just collecting—”
“Ah, the good days are back again. I’ve missed you. I really have. You and your friends, the STUDENTS. Monday, I will once more hear the sound of you cantering to Dither Hall on your imaginary ponies.”
Actually, Vaisey did have an imaginary pony. Black Beauty.
Had he been spying on us?
Ruby came back and handed a letter to me.
“Don’t go daft.”
I took the letter and said to her, “Heeee heee, why should I go daft, it’s only a letter from, you know, a mate to another mate, heeee, I don’t know what you mean.”
She just looked at me and shook her hair.
Then she said to her dad, “How did The Iron Pies rehearsal go?”
He said, “Bloody marvellous. The Iron Pies are going to be the biggest thing this side of Grimbottom. We are quite literally a sound sensation.”
Ruby said, “Oh yeah? How many songs have you got?”
“Well, fust of all, we’ve done some belters for the mums and dads. All with the original pie theme.”
Ruby said, “Like what?”
Mr Barraclough said, “The well-known James Bond themes, For Your Pies Only, Golden Pie, and From Russia With a Pie. Then a bit of a classic for the rockers, Rock Around the Pie. And a few standard Beatles numbers, The Long and Winding Pie, All You Need is Pies, Lucy in the Pie with Diamonds. We’ll be cracking. I’ll have groupies trying to get hold of my pies.”
I didn’t know what to say, and I also didn’t want to think about his pies any more… I was dying to read my letter. So I said I had to go because Dibdobs was waiting for me.
I ran across the green and into Dandelion Cottage. Harold was back from his knitting workshop and I had to do more hugging duties with him. Then I started yawning to give him the idea of beddy-byes, but he said, “Tallulah, before you go up the wooden stairs to Noddsville, let me just show you my new cloak. It’s hand-knitted, and as you can see it has shell buttons.”
As he was swishing around modelling it for me, he said, “You see, the shells show man’s connection with the earth or, in this case, Skegness beach.”
At last I was in my squirrel room. I have my squirrel lamp switched on by my bed and outside the wind is howling across the moors. But I am snug inside with my letter.
My letter from the Dream Boy.
I paused before I opened it.
To drink in its atmosphere of boyness.
Then I sniffed it.
And licked it.
I don’t know why.
I’m turning into Matilda.
Ooooh. I can imagine him writing it. With a quill pen probably. A candle guttering late at night in his room. He is wearing his usual late-night wear – velveteen breeches and flouncy shirt. I don’t know why his shirt is wet as he writes. Maybe he has been for a midnight swim. Or a late night, fully-clothed bath.
To cool his ardour and passions which are running riot.
He looks out of his window over the moonlit dales, thinking of me as he last saw me in late summer. My long dark tresses framing my face. Looking up at him with my green eyes. And as he looks long and deep into my eyes, I feel an urge to raise my bottom eyelids and…
Hang on a minute, I have changed into an owlet!!!
Get a grip, Tallulah!!
I opened the envelope.
Here goes:
Dear Tallulah
Hello Green Eyes, welcome back to Heckmondwhite and the dizzy world of showbiz!
Well done for making it to the new term – personally, I think it was your spectacular Sugar Plum Bikey that did it. I don’t think any of us who were there will forget your skirt catching in the back spokes, and you flying off into the backstage area.
Top.
I am off to Liverpool tonight to start my course but hope to see you in a couple of weeks when I come home. Good luck.
Knock ’em dead, but try not to break a leg! OR ANYONE ELSE’S.
Lots of love
Alex
xxx
Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.
Outside in the dark I can hear an owl hooting. It will be big Connie out there, collecting food for the owlets.
She is holding her own mouse massacre. Ruby says the owlets will start hunting for themselves in a week or two. Having to do their own hunting will be a shock for them. They probably think there is a big owl in the sky that just hands them stuff.
I don’t think you would poo in front of the big owl in the sky. At the same time as eating. Pooing and eating doesn’t seem right to me.
Still, what does make sense in Nature?
Anyway to heck with Nature.
I’m not interested in Nature, I am only interested in Alex.
Alex in his velveteen breeches.
And flouncy shirt.
Alex who said, “Hello Green Eyes.”
And, “Hope to see you in a couple of weeks.”
And who said, “Lots of love.”
And put three kisses.
That Alex.
I am keeping his letter under my pillow.
Night-night dream boy.
Night-night world.
The next day I woke up to the pitter-pattering of light hail on my window. It’s nine o’clock but still so dark it could be night-time. I got out of my snuggly squirrel bed and had a look out of the window. Brrrr. This is the life, minus 50 degrees. There is a slight frost on the window. On the inside. When I rubbed it away I could see that even the sheep are huddling together for warmth.
And they are practically walking jumpers.
I don’t know what to wear. Something cosy but glam. Thick tights and my new short green wool skirt, black top and new leather over-the-knee boots?
And a hat so that the hail can’t take all the bouncy bounce out of my hair.
I don’t want the Tree Sisters to think I have let myself down.
When I was fully togged up, I went downstairs into the kitchen.
Even though it is Antarctic conditions, the Dobbins have left a note to say they have gone out on their Earth Sky walk with the young Christian table tennis team. They were sorry I was missing it. Well, they are on their own there!
I had a crumpet and some honey and milky coffee. The honey is local of course. Harold is obsessed with local produce. I bet he knows the bees by name. And has made them little winter cloaks like his. And is paying their tuition fees to Bee Academy. So they can better themselves and get out of the worker bee trap.
Oooooh, I am so excited my legs are wiggling around for no reason. They are uncontrollable. They might calm down when I shove them in my boots.
It feels great to have proper friends and to be on the brink of being a showbiz legend. Or, well, being on the course.
I know it’s childish but I wanted to dance and sing with pleasure. I only wish I could do either.
I feel soooo lucky to be here.
Anything goes in the crazy world of the-atre dahling. I might be discovered and asked to be Maria in The Sound Of Music in the West End. That would make Alex know I was proper girlfriend material, and not some little girl with nobbly knees.
I can imagine myself in the Swiss Alps actually. In a big flouncy dress dancing with goats. “The hills are alive with the sound of music… lalalala… with songs they have sung for a thousand years…”
I got bundled up in my coat and hat and left the house. I had to walk slightly bent because there was a mini gale blasting across the moors and fields. But at least it had stopped hailing.
The sheep were still huddled together against the wind.
Looking at me.
I shouted to the sheep. “I love you, my little woolly friends.”
They didn’t like it. They didn’t want to be my friends. They wanted to be my unfriends. They shuffled off as a group and tried to get in the hedge. And looked at me from there.
They are very cross-eyed.
Maybe it is so they can see round corners?
That would be handy if there were wolves creeping up behind you.
Hang on, your eyes should go outwards to do that, not inwards so that you just see your own looming nose. How useful would that be?
Anyway, I can’t be bothered about the animal kingdom, I am too busy being in a good mood. I’m going to do run-run-leap to The Sound of Music to keep me warm. Run, run, leap… “The hills are alive with the sound of…”
Oh great balls of fire. Leaning against the gate of the churchyard, like a great dark crow, was him. The Dark Force of Heckmondwhite. The Black Hearted Prince himself. Cain.
Cain Hinchcliff.
He was dressed all in black, a long black coat and black boots. He had his collar turned up against the wind. His hair is longer than when I last saw him. And it looks even blacker. He saw me, so I stopped leaping and started pretending that my boots were falling down. A half-smile crossed his face. Not a nice beamy smile, a dark twisty smile. He pushed his hair back and looked me right in the eyes. His eyes are so black you can’t tell what he is thinking. I know what I am thinking, I am thinking, “Oh, banana skins and bejesus, he’s seen me leaping, and talking to sheep.”
Cain licked his lips like a hungry wolf and said, “Well, well, well… it’s the young Southern lass back.”
Then he ran his eyes up and down my body and said, “Tha’s grown a bit.”
Oh, how bloody well dare he?! How could he see through my coat? Maybe he had x-ray vision. What colour pants had I got on? Oh stop it, of course he couldn’t see through my coat and see my pants. He was just being him. Rude and crude and horrible.
