Withering Tights
Louise Rennison
the misadventures of Tallulah Casey
To all the Yorkshire heroes and hero-esses, the Cock and family,Leeds United past and present, Mum, Dad, sister, all cousinsand second cousins forty-times removed, nieces, grandparents,great-grandparents (with particular thanks for the hiddly diddlydiddly), Big Fat Bobbins and the Wilsons (particularly Mae,Queen of the tripe stall), Kaiser Chiefs. And of course to theinventors of Withering Tights, Em, Chazza and Anne Brontëxxxxxxxx
Special thanks to Clare, Gillon, Cassie and all the other big palsat Aitken Alexander. I promise I am going home now. Deepestlove and gratitude to Gillie – my editor – I also promise I amgoing home now. And to Lizzie – my editor – I am, I am reallygoing home now.
Contents
CHAPTER 1 On the showbiz express
CHAPTER 3 Your feet will bleed
CHAPTER 4 I don’t think I can go a whole thummer without boyth
CHAPTER 5 Into the bosoms of the Dother ship
CHAPTER 7 He had everything a dream boy should have
CHAPTER 8 I’m not an Irish dancing broom
CHAPTER 9 I want to live! I want to live!
CHAPTER 10 Lying in my squirrel room
CHAPTER 11 Night of the Vampire Bats
CHAPTER 13 “Just call me Fox. Blaise Fox.”
CHAPTER 14 Dance of the Sugar Plum Bikey
CHAPTER 15 He’s like a wild animal
CHAPTER 16 Heathcliff, it’s me
CHAPTER 17 “Get your ears on, dudes!”
CHAPTER 18 It was time to grow into my knees
CHAPTER 1 On the showbiz express
I’ve come to Yorkshire by mistakeChugging towards Dother Hall
Wow. This is it. This is me growing up. On my own, going to Performing Arts College. This is goodbye Tallulah, you long, gangly thing and helloooooo Lullah, star of stage and…owwwwooo. Ow and ow.
The train lurched and I’ve nearly knocked myself out on the side of the door. I’m bound to get a massive lump. Oh good, I can start college with two heads…
In my brochure it has a picture of a big manor house and on the front it says:
Dother Hall, world-renowned for its excellence in the Arts. This magnificent centre of artistry is set amongst the beautiful Yorkshire Dales. With its friendly northern folk offering a warm welcome to visitors, think Wuthering Heights but with less moaning!
I’ve been looking over the top of my brochure at the bloke opposite. He is the grumpiest man in the universe probably.
He’s got no hair on his head, but he has loads of red hair shooting out of his ears. Like there are a couple of red squirrels nesting in there. Which would be quite good actually, as they are an endangered species.
His wife said to him, “Oooh look, Fred, the sun’s coming out.”
And he said, “It can please its bloody self.”
Is this what Yorkshire folk are like?
I wonder if anyone is missing me at home?
I wonder if they are saying, “Where is Tallulah?”
I think I know the answer to that question, and it is, “Who?”
Connor will just move into my bedroom and make it smelly and then leave.
It will be next week before my grandma notices that my egg-cup hasn’t been used. When I tried to explain to her that I was going to performing arts college in Yorkshire for the summer, she said, “Will you bring a trifle back?”
Maybe she thought I said I was going to Marks and Spencers for the summer.
Mum didn’t comment because as usual she wasn’t there. She’s gone to Norway to paint.
Not people’s houses. She’s doing her art.
When I stayed over with cousin Georgia, I asked her what sort of painting the Norwegians did and she said, “It’s mostly sledges.”
I thought she meant they painted sledges a lot, but she said, “No,
