Withering Tights. Louise Rennison
Читать онлайн книгу.
Live as you mean to go on, I say. In fact, I might go the whole hog and get some blusher.
Dibdobs had a frilly apron over her Brown Owl uniform when I went down into the kitchen. She was just dishing up sausages and she gave me a super-duper smile. I had no idea that teeth could be so…teethy.
She said, “They’re local.”
Meaning the sausages, not her teeth.
Or does she mean her teeth?
No, she means the sausages. No one has local teeth.
Anyway, does it matter that the sausages are local, I’m just going to eat them, not make friends and go to the cinema with them.
But she’s only trying to be nice, this is how most people live. I think. But how would I know?
I smiled at her as I sat down in front of my sausages. And said, “Oh, goodie.”
I’ve never said “Oh goodie” in my life.
It feels good.
I may say it a lot and make it something I am notorious for.
Because when I am famous I will have to have a quirky personality.
I can’t just rely on having sticky-out knees.
The door slammed open and a voice shouted, “I’ve brought ’em back, I’ve got most of the worst off, but they’ll need a good soak. Bye.”
Dibdobs shouted, “Thanks, Nora.”
The door slammed again and two toddlers shuffled into the kitchen.
Both with basin haircuts.
Basin hair with playdough in it.
Dibdobs was busy at the stove and said over her shoulder, “Hello boys, this is Tallulah.”
They came and looked at me for a bit whilst I was chewing.
One said, “Goo-morning, did you hear me clenin my teeef?”
Um, it wasn’t morning. And he didn’t have any teeth except for one waggly one right at the front. And he didn’t look like he would have that for long.
Mrs Dobby was beside herself with joy.
“Tallulah, this is Max and Sam. Say hello, boys.”
One started picking his nose and the other one, Max (or Sam), said, “They’ve gotten out, I’ve been feelin’ for ’em but I can’t find ’em.”
Mrs Dobby was getting a bit red in the face and her roundy glasses were steaming up, but she didn’t raise her voice, she just said, “What is it you were feeling for to find, darling?”
“Bogies.”
Mrs Dobby laughed, but not in a normal way, like a budgie-in-an-apron sort of way.
“No dear, not that, besides that naughty word, what were you looking for?”
“Bogies.”
“What else?”
I put my sausage to the side of my plate.
Max who had just been staring at me and waggling his loose tooth piped up.
“Snails. Great big sjuuuge ones with sjuuuge shells.”
“We put them to seep.”
Put them to seep?
Seep where?
They’d better not be seeping anywhere near me.
Mrs Dobby began sort of dusting the insane brothers with her tea towel, still smiling.
She said firmly, “Quiet now, boys, and go and play in…”
Sam slapped her a bit crossly across her calf with his dodie.
“Sjuuuge.”
“Be quiet!”
Max shouted back, “We WAS quietin’ before you came in!!!!!”
The boys stared at me all through my jelly and ice cream. And then, as a bit of light relief, my new dad, Harold, came home from his Christian table tennis.
He said, “Hello hello hello! Welcome welcome welcome. I’ll just pop my table tennis bat in the bat drawer and I’ll be with you.”
He’s jolly and beamy like Dibdobs and he’s obviously where the twins get their looks from.
He also had a pudding basin haircut.
Perhaps Dibdobs has got a badge in ‘basin cuts’. I bet she has.
Despite his haircut, Harold is so happy. When he heard that the sausages were local he almost had to go and have a lie down, he was so thrilled. I like the Dobbins already, but I don’t know what to do with them. I’m not the dibdobdib jolly sort of person, I’m more the dark nobbly sort of person. But I did smiling and nodding a lot. Maybe they think that I am a bit shy?
That’s good.
Shy is good.
I am going to be quite shy.
I will become known for my shyness.
And my quirky use of language, like saying ‘oh, goodie’ or ‘yum yum’. Or ‘Yarooo!’ Although I don’t want to overdo it and make people think I’m a bit simple.
The Dobbins don’t have Sky.
They don’t have any TV.
Dobbo said they made their own fun.
I made the mistake of saying, “What sort of thing?”
And she was off.
“Oh, gosh, where to start??? We do everything, don’t we, Harold?”
Harold stopped looking at some sort of nut through a microscope and said, “Yes, it’s almost too busy in the country. We look at maps, we go and look at the river flowing. Or watch the clouds. You name it, we go look at it. Then of course there’s the Guides and the Young Christians. You should join, Tallulah!”
Dibdobs said, “Oh, yes, you should. We’re weaving a rope. Making it long enough to reach right across the village and seeing how many people we can get skipping.”
I said, “Gosh.”
So, here I am in a squirrel room near a place called Grimbottom.
I put all my books on the shelves. I am reading Wuthering Heights again. It’s a set book for the course. And my secret letter from Georgia is under my pillow. For luck.
I was beginning to feel really sorry for myself and lonely when Dibdobs knocked on my door. She has brought me a mug of hot milk and, yarooo!, some slippers shaped like squirrels to make me ‘feel at home’.
So she clearly thinks I live in a hole in a tree.
She said to me, “I hope you like them, Harold made them at his sewing class.”
I said, “Oh, yes, they’re, well, they’re very unusual…and spiffing.”
Spiffing? Where did that come from? I am even surprising myself with my quirky use of language.
Then the psycho twins silently appeared in their jim-jams and stood at the door doing more looking. I hope and pray their snails are not ‘seepin’ in my room. They were still staring as Dibdobs closed the door.
I didn’t have anything else to do, so after she had gone I tried my slippers on. You put your big toe into the snout and the ears stick out attractively at the sides. The tails nestle up the backs of your legs. Perhaps I should wear them to college for my first day, as a quirky fashion statement.
The zany, free world of a performer.
Hmmmmm. I could wear my false moustache AND the squirrel slippers on Monday. I could. If I wanted to make the girls laugh and the