The Taming Of The Tights. Louise Rennison

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      As soon as I walked through the gates, Jo came running out of the front door. All little and shiny and dark, jumping up and down like a mad terrier, shouting, “Loopy Lullah!!!!”

      She gave me the usual dead arm. Violence is her way of showing affection.

      She was followed by Flossie, who has such a long fringe that her face really only begins at her glasses. For some reason she often finds herself (in her mind) in Texas.

      Flossie was in Texas now.

      I knew because she was walking really slowly and fanning her face like it was a thousand degrees, and drawling in a Deep South accent, “Why, Miss Lullabelle, I do declare, it’s too goddam hot. I was axing and axing, ‘Where in the name of hominy grits is Miss Lullabelle?’ And here y’all are!”

      Vaisey was at the back, dear Vaisey, with her curls bouncing and her little bottom … er … bouncing as well. She came running to me and threw her arms round me. “Oh, Lulles, Lulles, I’ve missed you.”

      And we had our first official Tree Sisters hug. It was so good to be with my pals again. Nothing can go wrong when you have your little girl gang around you. Nothing!!!!

      Back in the Theatre of Dreams with my gang!!!!

      I started singing “There’s no business like show business, we smile when we are down …”

      And doing high skipping. I don’t know why, but my legs got excited.

      A voice behind me said, “I might have known. Tallulah Casey. WALK properly, you are not a silly baby.”

      Oh, how I remembered that voice. I didn’t have to turn round to see who it was. I could feel beaky eyes staring into the back of me.

      Dr Lightowler.

      Half woman, half owl, half really, really horrible to me.

      Well this term she was going to see a big change in me. She wasn’t dealing with a little kid any more. I had grown and not only in the corker department.

      Vaisey whispered, “Don’t say anything to annoy her.”

      I stopped and turned round. Blimey, I must say, and this didn’t seem possible, Dr Lightowler looked even more owly. Had she got a new winter cloak?

      She glared down her thin nose unblinkingly. I smiled cordially, my legs together.

      “Ah, Dr Lightowler how marvellous to see you again. You look rested. The rest has done you good. In fact, you look in beak condition.” (Oh sweet Jesus!) “Er. Hahaha, woopity doodah … peak, PEAK condition.”

      The girls were snuffling and putting their heads down to hide their laughter.

      Dr Lightowler wasn’t laughing. She was looking and not blinking. She hissed, “It’s a shame that the rest of us aren’t as impressed with you as you are, Tallulah Casey. Remember, I am watching you. And I don’t like what I see.”

      And she swished off.

      Flossie said, “I think deep down, really deep down, so deep down that she’d have to get a rope and the emergency services to get there, she’s very, very fond of you.”

      Vaisey put her arm round me. “It’s so unfair, just because you fell off a bike once she never gives you a chance.”

      How right she is.

      Jo was jumping up and down. “Oh, shhhh, shhhhh. Don’t let’s start talking about Lullah. I want to snog Phil. He phoned me and said he’d be at our Special Tree!!! So snogs ahoy!!!!”

      As we walked into the main hall, Vaisey said shyly, “I got a postcard from Jack. I think he might like me.”

      I gave her a hug. “Who doesn’t like you, missy?”

      Flossie said, “Fiddle-de-dee, I just want to see some menfolk. LOTS of menfolk. ANY menfolk. It’s this goddam relentless heat.”

      I didn’t point out that there was ice on the inside of the windows.

      The main hall was full of babbling girls. Milly and Tilly, Honsy, Bibby. It was nice to see everyone again. Groovy to see the ‘showbiz’ crowd.

      I was leaning against the stage, queuing up when a posh voice said, “Oh, Tallulah, begorrah, bejesus. Did you have a noice time in your holidays?”

      It was Lavinia and her mates, Davinia and Anoushka.

      Lav, Dav and Noos.

      For some reason, Lavinia pretends she’s Irish like me and treats me like I’m a half-witted five-year-old. I can’t really not like her because she’s so ‘nice’ to me. But it’s only because I know Alex and she rates him.

      In fact, as I was thinking that, she said, “We must see that friend of yours again. What was his name … Alex? When he next comes home, to be sure, to be sure.”

      She СКАЧАТЬ