A Midsummer Tights Dream. Louise Rennison
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I still can’t believe he did that.
Cain Hinchcliff.
Perhaps he’s one of Fang’s adopted children. Half-dog half-complete moron.
There is a poster on the village hall to say that his band, The Jones, is playing on Saturday night.
Ruby said that she doesn’t think they will play though, because of the big fight they had when Cain got off with Ruben’s girlfriend. She thinks they have split up again.
They are like wild animals. The whole family, Seth, Ruben, Cain. They are all bad.
Not good.
Not like Alex. He wouldn’t lick someone’s nose.
Or destroy an outdoor lavatory.
He’s not a nose-licking, lavatory-destroying sort of guy.
He is a dreamy sort of guy.
And good.
Then I rounded the corner and there it was, Dother Hall. The rambling manor house with its turrets and its mullioned windows. Its magnificent gothic chimneys towering into the wind-tossed sky. I remember Blaise Fox taking me up there and telling me I could be Heathcliff. She said I had a “special quality” and… hang on a minute!
A spooky figure was staggering about up there. Dancing? A mad person dancing on the roof. Like a scene from Jane Eyre. Could it be the ghost of mad Mrs Rochester?
I had a strange sense of déjà vu.
As I looked more closely, I could see that it wasn’t Mrs Rochester, it was Bob the technician.
Up on the roof. Like he was the first time I turned up at Dother Hall.
In fact it wasn’t déjà vu.
It was déjà Bob.
What was going on? He seemed to be fighting a black parachute. On the roof. I don’t think gale force conditions are a time to go parachuting.
I pushed the heavy front door open and went into the front hall, which was a tumbling mass of hysterical girls. The noise level was a million decibels. Gudrun Sachs, Sidones’ assistant, looked even madder than I remember. She was in dungarees and had her clipboard out. She was shouting, “Girls, girls, calm down, let’s have some quiet while I take the register.”
No one took any notice, everyone was too busy screeching, although some girls were practising ballet positions. Or a bit of tap.
In the end Gudrun blew a whistle and shouted, “Achtung!!!!”
I was looking for the Tree Sisters when I heard a really posh voice behind me say, “Railly railly nice to see you again.”
There they were – Lavinia, Anoushka and Davinia. Lav, Noos and Dav. The girls from the year above.
Lav was smiling at me. She looks even slimmer than she did last term and her hair’s all sleek and coppery. Even though she has a skirt and top on like mine, hers look about a million times more expensive. She said in a really bad Irish accent, “Bejesus, Tallulah, did you have a nice time in the old country, in Oireland, begorrah, begosh, bejesus?”
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