Withering Tights. Louise Rennison

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СКАЧАТЬ call tha Loobylullah for short.”

      I laughed as well. I felt sort of nice that she had made up a special name for me. I said to them both, “I was going to go to the shops. Do you fancy coming?”

      Vaisey said, “Yes, that would be cool, let’s go. Which way is it?”

      I said, “It must be down this road because I know there is only the village green thing here.”

      Ruby was just looking at us.

      I said, “Are you not coming?”

      She said, “No, I’ll leave it.”

      “See you later then.”

      Ruby said, “Yep.”

      Me and Vaisey set off down the road and passed the back of The Blind Pig and its outbuildings.

      Then we came to a line of cottages and a barn.

      Vaisey said, “Which do you like best: cappuccino or hot chocolate? I think I will have hot chocolate…”

      And that’s when we saw the sheep. Fields of them, stretching as far as the eye could see.

      Oh no, of course I am exaggerating, there was a sign as well and it said:

       Blubberhouse Sewage Works 10 miles

      We were back at The Blind Pig two minutes later and Ruby was sitting on the wall eating a bag of crisps.

      She said, “Did you not go to the shops?”

      We shook our heads.

      Ruby said quite kindly, “Have you two ever bin in the country before?”

      We shook our heads.

      Ruby said, “The woolly things are sheep. See thee later, I’m off to the pie-eating contest, my dad’s in it.”

      Vaisey and me decided to make the best of things by looking round what there was of the village. I’ll give you a thumbnail sketch of the high spots.

      The post office. What we could see through the window: stamps, ten ‘amusing’ birthday cards, sellotape.

      The village shop. Pies, milk, teabags, paint and a selection of boiled sweets.

      I won’t bother you with the low spots.

      As we passed, we could hear loud cheering and heckling from the village hall. It was decorated with a banner that said: ‘Pie eating’.

      A loud voice bellowed from inside. It sounded like Ruby. “Come on, Dad, get it down you! Only twenty to go!!!”

      I looked at Vaisey. She said, “Do you want to see my room?”

      The pub smelt all beery when we went in. It didn’t have what you would call a ‘cosmopolitan atmosphere’. It had a darts board and skittles atmosphere. It looked like one of those pubs that you see in scary old films.

      You know, when two lost travellers are on the moors. Suddenly a thunderstorm breaks. They are soaking and the lightning is crackling across the sky. Then they hear something terrible howling. And as they walk on, the howling gets nearer. A flash of lightning illuminates a slathering monstrous dog with fangs. And they start running, and the beast starts running, and one falls over and then…Heavens to Betsy, they see lights! And hear a piano. The welcoming lights of an old inn. The sign creaks backwards and forwards in the howling wind. A flash of lightning illuminates the sign.

      It reads, ‘The Blind Pig’.

      Anyway, that is what The Blind Pig was like. I was glad the landlord was out eating pies.

      There were pictures of the landlord all over the walls. Mostly with dead things that he had shot. Foxes, stags, deer. Chickens. A cow. Surely he hadn’t shot a cow? In each one he was standing with his shotgun and his foot on whatever poor thing he had shot. There was even one of him with one foot on a pie. Underneath it said:

       Ted Barraclough Champion Pie-Eater:22 steak and kidney and 4 pork.

      We went up the steep stairs to Vaisey’s room. It had dark oak beams and slanting wooden floors, it was so old. Yorkshire people seem obsessed with wood. There is very little city loft-living style around here. Where are all the shiny surfaces?

      Vaisey prattled about her family as we looked through her things. Two brothers and a sister. Blah blah. Dogs, two budgies, both called Joey. Blah. Ordinary every-day legs. She told me she could sing and dance a bit and that she had played Titania in Midsummer Night’s Dream and her mum had made her costume.

      I just looked at her as the edges of our planets drew away from each other.

      Her mum had made her costume?

      I said, “Your dad doesn’t go to work on a bike that has a handy basket, does he?”

      She blinked at me in amazement. “Yes, how on earth did you know that?”

      I shrugged carelessly and went to look moodily out of the window. Perhaps you could see Grimbottom from here. Sadly I forgot to duck so struck my head on the low beam.

      Then Vaisey asked about me and my family. I was a bit evasive.

      I said, “Oh you know, they both, um…they go away a lot.” Even Vaisey couldn’t think of anything normal to say about that. Then I said quickly, “Vaisey, have you got a boyfriend?”

      She went bright red. And twitched her nose, like a mop-haired bunny.

      Then she got up from the bed and went to the window, put her hand to her forehead and whispered, “Aahhh, l’amour, l’amour, pour quoi? C’est une mystery.”

      I said to her, “Um…did you just say in French, love, love, for why, it’s a mystery?”

      She shook her curls and laughed sadly.

      “It was a line from a piece we did last term at school. I was a suicidal nun.”

      Gosh.

      I didn’t think I’d mention my playing-card experience just yet.

      “So does that mean you’ve been dumped by a boy?”

      And Vaisey said, “No, it means it’s a mystery because I haven’t snogged a boy – yet.”

      Vaisey and I have decided that we will try and have a joint Summer of Love.

      Just then I heard Mr Barraclough coming in shouting “Pie! Pie! Pie!” Time to go home for tea.

      Dibdobs has been face painting with the boys. She was a butterfly. It was quite a scary sight. Then the twins came in.

      Not as scary as the basin-headed owls.

      After tea – yes, it was local pies, Harold couldn’t believe his luck – the Dobbins thought a game of СКАЧАТЬ