A Midsummer Tight's Dream (4 page)

So Ruby crept off and opened the barn door while I crouched behind a bush.

I noticed Matilda sat down behind me. Clearly she didn’t want her head pecked off either.

Ruby came back skipping and said, “They’re on their own, come in!!!”

I went into the barn and when my eyes adjusted to the dark I could see them. Little Ruby and Little Lullah. Our little owlets.

Little owlets? They were HUGE! We spent an hour with the furry freaks. They can flutter about now, although they do crash into the walls. And they swooped down onto our hats. I think they love us and think we are their stupid friends who don’t even know how to fly. Well, maybe I can’t fly but I don’t poo myself all the time. I said to Ruby, “Look, they are pooing while they are eating.”

Ruby said, “Ah know, sometimes you can see little mouse claws in the poo pellets.”

It was getting cold and late, so Ruby put them back on their hay pile. I didn’t want to handle them in case I was involved in a poo situation. But they were so sweet and they fluffed their feathers up to make themselves look bigger. And did head swiveling, to show off how far they could swivel. I feel proud of them.

I said to Ruby as we left them, cheeping away in the dark, “Little Lullah looks like me, don’t you think?”

As she pulled her hat down she said, “Don’t make me have to go say owt to me dad about you saying an owlet looks like you.”

It was spooky down the dark lane with the noises in the fields and the rain and moaning wind. There were strange rustlings in the trees and a far-off hooting.

Ruby huddled into her jacket and threw a stick for Matilda. Matilda looked at the stick as it flew over her head. Then she just went on toddling along. She knows that it’s not a biscuit, so why would she bother to go and get it?

Ruby said, “The Hinchcliffs have had a reight big fight. They smashed the Bottomlys’ outdoor lavatory when they fell into it.”

I tutted.

Typical.

“What were they fighting about this time? Who was the stupidest?”

Ruby said, “No, Ruben found out that Cain had been laiking around with his girlfriend.”

I tutted again.

Ruby went on. “Cain made it worse by saying he was only doing Ruben a favor because she was a real mardy bum. And thick.”

Charming.

As we got back to the Dobbinses’ gate Ruby said, “Oh, I forgot, Alex gi’ me a letter for thee but I left it in my room. I’ll gi’ it thee tomorrow.”

I tried not to leap in the air or do Irish dancing. I said, “Oh, well. You know I had better … er, walk you to your door because of the … night … er, stuff.”

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.

She said, “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 marvelous. 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 anymore … 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 modeling 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 ardor 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. Maybe I should write a letter back. Hmmm.

Night-night, Dream Boy.

Night-night, world.

T
HE NEXT DAY
I woke up to the pitter-pattering of light hail on my window. The church bells chimed nine o’clock but it’s still so dark it could be nighttime. I got out of my snuggly squirrel bed and had a look out of the window. Brrrr. This is the life, minus fifty 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 cozy 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 go.

When I was fully togged up, I went downstairs into the kitchen.

Even though it is Antarctic conditions, the Dobbinses have left a note to say that after church they are going 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.

I feel soooo lucky to be here. 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.

Anything goes in the crazy world of theater, 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.