The Taming Of The Tights. Louise Rennison
Читать онлайн книгу.
be pleased as anything to see us.”
Ruby started plaiting her hair.
“They’re not there. Connie has chucked them out. They’ve flown the nest.”
I looked at her.
“Our little owlets have flown the nest? But …”
Ruby said, “Well, when I say ‘flown’ the nest, what I mean is they’re crashing abaht in the woods somewhere. Tha’s nivver seen such rubbish flying in your life. Little Rubes knocked herself out on the barn door the first time she tried to get out.”
Our little owlets. Gone?
But they hadn’t even said goodbye.
Not even, “Woo-hoo, see you later.”
Ruby said, “And guess what, Beverley Bottomley has gone on hunger strike, and she says she won’t stop until her mum stops stalking Cain with her shotgun.”
I said, “Isn’t Beverley glad about the stalking thing? She must hate Cain after what he’s done to her. He’s awful. He dumped her twice. And he made that song up about her called Put your coat on, girl, you’re leaving. And the second line was ‘You were all right in the dark but then I put the light on’. At The Jones gig. He sang it straight at her. Everyone could see.”
Ruby said, “I know. But she LUUUUUVES him. She thinks he’s a dog wi’ a bad name.”
“He IS a dog with a bad name – that’s because he’s a bad dog.”
Ruby said, “I know. But you let Cain the bad dog lick your nose.”
Oh no, the nose-licking incident rears its head again! What would Ruby say if she knew about the accidental snogging on the moors incident?
As we lay in the dark with the wind howling and the rain sluicing down, I quickly said, “I wouldn’t like to be out in this. I hope the owlets have got little owl umbrellas.”
Ruby went on snuggling down. I couldn’t settle though, I kept thinking about Cain.
“Do you think he saw us – Cain? Do you think he was out there with his dog, watching us?”
I shivered.
Ruby said, “Mebbe. You know those Hinchcliffs. They can be anywhere at any time. Like a reight bad smell.”
As she said that, I nearly fell out of bed because there was a massive farty noise from Matilda. It was so loud it even woke Matilda up. Ruby went mad.
“Get down, Matilda!! Bad girl, you’ve let yourself down AND you’ve let the bulldog breed down.”
Matilda looked all shamefaced and tottered about on the side of the bed. She got tangled up in her nightcap and then one leg got stuck. It took so long that in the end Ruby unfastened the stuck leg and said, “Oh for goodness’ sake, get in bed again. And no more trumping.”
Matilda blinked sorrowfully at Ruby, who was still harrumphing about. “She hates it when I’m cross with her. Serves her right for trumping, she’ll worry all night and not get any slee—”
She was interrupted by little snuffling snoring noises from Matilda.
We settled down again.
I said casually in the dark, “Have you … er, heard how Alex, you know your brother … erm, is getting on?”
Ruby said sleepily, “Dun’t start that again. Anyway, I thought you liked that Charlie?”
Ah yes, Charlie. I do like that Charlie.
The boy from Woolfe Academy for naughty boys.
But he was gorgeous. Not naughty.
Well, not very naughty.
Where’s the harm in wiring up your headmaster’s door handle to a minor electrical circuit? As Charlie said, “It was just high spirits, an innocent schoolboy prank.”
Charlie was lovely in every way and had given me my very first proper kiss. It was dreamy but the only thing is he has a girlfriend already.
As I drifted off to sleep next to Ruby, lulled by the rain pattering on the roof, I dreamed of Charlie … Zzz
… I was up on the moorland path behind The Blind Pig. Looking through my Darkly Demanding Damson Diary. I was dressed in a black mini skirt and green tights. Thinking of doing a performance about being a person with corkers, not a silly schoolgirl any more.
Hmmmm, perhaps through the medium of dance I could show the things I’d learned from my wise Cousin Georgia.
How to do sticky eyes and ‘look interested’ when boys do things.
I started wafting my arms from side to side (in my dream, otherwise Ruby would have kicked me out of bed) and sweet music began floating across the moors. So lovely and magical and otherworldly, but somehow familiar.
I looked up into the tree where the music was coming from and …
… there they were, the owlets with tiny electric guitars. Hurrah!
Little Lullah was on rhythm guitar and little Rubes on bass. They were playing Dancing Queen by Abba!
I began to dance more wildly. Drawn by the inescapable rhythms of Sweden, lost in a world of my own.
The owlets turned up their amplifiers. (Not easy when you haven’t got any hands.)
I sang my version of Dancing Queen.
“Friday night and it’s got late
I’m out here without a mate
Got my new green tights on
You can see them from Skipton
They’re in the mood for a dance
And when I get the chaaaance …
I am the dancing queen
My Irish legs have a lovely sheeeen!!!!
Oh yeah, you can dance, you can …”
And I began to spin and kick wildly, I was doing my Irish dancing on a hillock to the cool sounds of The Owlets when … Charlie! There was Charlie!
He smiled his special smile and gave a thumbs-up to the owlets. Then he danced towards me. (In time to the music, but carefully as his lurex flares were quite snug.)
Charlie looked into my eyes and then lowered his lips towards mine. Just as he’d touched my lips with his, he drew back and said (in that weird slow voice like in dreams), “No … I caaan’t … I haaaaave a girlfrieeeeeend.”
And he got a tiny girl out of his pocket. She waved at me.
He left with the tiny girl in his hand and sadness filled my tights. The owlets played a slow version of Dancing Queen on pan-pipes.
But the show must always go on. That’s what Sidone tells us.
I began singing again, even though my heart was breaking.
“I am the dancing queen
My Irish legs have a lovely shhheeeeeen!!”
And someone started whistling along.
Who could this be?
Alex came up the path. In a flouncy shirt!
He danced towards me in time to the music and put his hand to my face. The frills on his sleeve temporarily