Withering Tights - By Louise Rennison Page 0,51

into the lions’ den, The Blind Pig. To give my forty-five per cent in front of a man who pretends I am a big lad. In tights. When Mr Barraclough sees me as a horse, he will be so thrilled.

Well, I am not going to do it.

It’s not just for me.

Matilda would never be able to hold her paws up in public again.

But as if in a horrific slow-motion nightmare, I found myself in the barn at the back of The Blind Pig. In a horse costume.

I tried to canter off down the road, but Dr Lightowler spotted me and gave me one of her looks. So I pretended to eat some grass by the side of the road, as if I was getting into character, like Monty told us. I was pretending to be the horse. I tried to explain that to her, but she just shook her cloak and tutted.

All the Dother Hall staff had come along to support us. Blaise Fox was smoking a cheroot. She clicked her tongue at me and said, “Giddy up.”

When we appeared in the main bar, Mr Barraclough was beside himself with delight.

He was all dressed up and he had put a special bowler hat on the stag.

Oh, it was bad. Worserer than anyone could have imagined. It had seemed good fun in the studio at Dother Hall. All ‘have at thee’ and ‘jokes’ that made no sense – “Hey diddly noddly noo, I will throw thee down the loo.”

All I can say is that people in olden times must have had nothing to do. But no one else seemed to mind like I did. Honey was the maiden and swanned around singing with a lute. She was flirting with the village boys, who were like mothth to a flame.

I said quietly to Vaisey, when I had done my horse dance, “If Alex or Charlie or Phil or even Ben turn up, please shoot me quickly or stab me to death with the stag’s horns.”

It was mostly the village lads watching and laughing. But I don’t mean laughing in an entertained way, I mean in a ‘laughing at me’ way. The Dobbins were at the back of the crowd and the twins just looked and looked at me. Dibdobs clapped each time I did anything, even lean against the bench. And Harold joined in at one point and had an ‘amusing’ fight with Flossie when he snatched her sheep’s bladder and started hitting people with it.

Also, I was hot. My costume had legs hanging from it. And, besides a long tail, I had big ears and a mane.

The whole thing was awful, and I didn’t understand why the rest of the girls thought it was so funny. Jo was bashing the big lads over the head with her inflated sheep’s bladder like there was no tomorrow. She was shouting, “Have at thee, you varlant.” And all sorts.

At last, it was the end and Monty came on as the narrator. There was a spontaneous round of applause. Just for his codpiece.

Monty was bowing and passing round his hat for change when one of the bigger lads grabbed Monty’s codpiece. Oh, I wish I was kidding. And put it on his head like a bonnet.

Monty was delighted.

“Away you go, my boys!!! Play on, play on.”

Then at a signal from Bob, who had been dressed as a jester with a drum, Monty strode into the centre, his tights quite literally bulging with the strain of clinging on to his stomach. He said:

“And now, good friends, forfend,

And alack aday our tale is at an end,

We hope we have in some small way,

Added to this merry day.

I thank you and alas must be away.”

And he bowed and the whole of the back of his tights split.

I had to trot at the back of him until he could escape into the men’s loos.

Afterwards in the barn we were swigging ginger beer and eating crisps. Everyone was all excited and pepped up. Ms Fox came to see us and said, “Well done. Well done. Brilliant interaction with the audience. Excellent use of sheep’s bladders. Very, very good. And Tallulah once again, a masterpiece in how to try and avoid being seen. I couldn’t take my eyes off you. No one could.”

Oh goodie.

Ruby was nagging me to come and see the owl eggs. She said, “I’ve got a feeling about ‘em…I think they’re going to be popping out soon. What do you think we should name them?”

She said this to