TALES FROM WITCHWAY WOOD: Crash 'n' Bang (9 page)

Tallula

There was deathly silence. Even Filth stopped tapping and came back to earth. Werewolves were seldom seen down in the Wood. They tend to be solitary, antisocial types who live alone in remote mountain caves. Little was known about them. They were a bit of a mystery, particularly the girls.

Everyone’s eyes slowly travelled from the Werewolf’s huge feet up, up, up to the top of her head. She was
tall
.

She was also covered from head to foot in thick brown hair. It rippled when she moved. It grew on her arms. It grew on her legs. It grew on the backs of her hands. Most of it sprouted from her head in a thick mane. She had scraped some of it back into a messy ponytail, tied with a bit of old twine. The rest hung down in a curtain over her eyes.

The frock was – well, horrible. A sort of washed-out, shapeless sack with an uneven hem that sagged round her knees.

‘Yes?’ said TT. ‘Can I help you?’

‘Am I too late?’ asked the Werewolf girl.

‘To –
sing
, you mean?’ asked TT with a frown.

‘Yes.’ The Werewolf girl ducked under the low doorway and stepped into the Studio, which immediately seemed much smaller.

‘Ah,’ said TT. ‘Now, there’s a bit of a problem. This is actually a
Boy
Band, you see. The clue’s in the name.’

‘It didn’t say boys only on the poster,’ said the Werewolf girl.

‘It should have,’ said TT. ‘I was in a bit of a hurry. This is Crash ’n’ Bang music, you see. Manly sort of stuff.’

‘Are you saying girls can’t like Crash ’n’Bang?’

‘You can
like
it,’ said TT. ‘In fact, I’m setting up a fan club you can join –’

‘But we can’t sing it?’ interrupted the Werewolf girl. ‘There’s some sort of rule? Is that what you’re saying?’

‘What I’m saying,’ said TT, ‘what I’m
saying
is, you couldn’t call it
The Witchway Rhythm Boys and a Werewolf Girl
. It’d look silly on the posters.’

‘So I can’t audition, then?’

‘W-e-e-e-ll . . . How can I put this? No.’

There was an awkward little pause. And then, to everyone’s surprise, Filth suddenly said, ‘Hey, man. Why not?’

TT could think of plenty more reasons why not, apart from the whole girl thing. He began with the next big one that came to mind, which was the whole Werewolf thing.

‘Look,’ he said. ‘Let’s not beat about the bush. Don’t you lot go funny at full moon?’

Filth, Arthur and O’Brian glanced at each other uncomfortably. The question seemed a bit personal. Still, it would be good to know.

‘Funny?’ The Werewolf girl stared at him.

‘Yes,’ said TT sternly. ‘
Funny
. You know. Run around gnashing your teeth and howling.’

‘Well, I usually stay in and make biscuits.’

In the background, Filth gave a little snigger.

‘There’s more to us than charging around drooling, you know,’ went on the Werewolf girl. ‘We do have
lives
.’

‘All right, keep your hair on,’ said TT.

‘Anyway,’ said the Werewolf girl, ‘what about you? You wear a T-shirt with Moonmad on it.’

‘Doesn’t mean I am, though.’

‘Well, neither am I. But even if I was, what’s that got to do with singing?’

‘Nothing,’ said Filth. ‘Let her try, man – she’s here now.’

‘Quite right,’ said Arthur, forcing a smile on to his lips. He liked to think of himself as fair. After all, it wasn’t her fault she looked like – well, like
that
.

‘To be sure, give the lass a go,’ said O’Brian, who was feeling a bit faint and just wanted to get the whole thing over with. Go home, find some scissors and liberate himself from T-shirt prison. He added, ‘Make it quick, eh?’

TT gave in. He picked up his clipboard with a little sigh.

‘Name?’

‘Tallula. T-A-L-L-U-L-A.’

TT wrote it down.

‘I suppose you’re called that because you’re –’

‘Tall? No. It’s my name. Is it a problem?’

‘Oh, no, no. It’s quite a nice name, actually. Not at all wolfish. I expect people are surprised when they –’

‘See me in the flesh? Yes. They are.’

‘Right,’ said TT. ‘Well, stand on the X, er – Tallula. I take it you’ve got something prepared?’

Tallula nodded. All eyes were on her as she stepped carefully on the white cross, then reached into the pocket of her frock and produced a little black book.

‘I’ve got some lyrics here,’ she said shyly. ‘I thought they might go with that new number you were playing the other night? With the extra-long drum solo? Where you double up the tempo at the end?’

The Boys looked at each other, startled.

‘You heard that?’ asked O’Brian.

‘Yes.’ Tallula blushed a bit beneath her hair. ‘I was outside, under the willow tree. I’m there most nights. Whenever you rehearse.’

‘Er – why?’ enquired Arthur.

‘I like hearing you play, that’s all,’ said Tallula, her eyes sliding sideways to Filth.

‘Oh. Really? Well. That’s good,’ said Arthur. ‘So – fire away, then. Let’s hear it.’

Tallula straightened her shoulders, drew herself up to her considerable full height, took a deep breath, threw back her head, opened her mouth – and sang!

‘
I used to be a loner,

I used to be a freak,

I used to be a moaner,

I used to be a geek,

But since I started singing,

My life has changed and how!

I used to be a Werewolf but I’m all right now.

I’m all right noooooooow!

Yes, I’m all right nooooooow!

I can growl, I can bite,

But I can sing, so that’s all right,

Used to be a Werewolf but I’m

A-l-l-l-l-l-lll

Ri-i-i-i-i-ght

NOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWW!
’

The final howl died away. It was spine-chilling. But in a sort of
good
way.

There was a long silence. Nobody spoke. Nobody moved.

‘That’s it,’ said Tallula. ‘What do you think?’ The Boys and TT were staring at her, open-mouthed. ‘Too wolfish for you? Well, thanks anyway . . .’

She closed her little black book, slipped it in her pocket and turned to leave. Her shoulders had slumped back down again. And then –

‘Wait,’ said Filth. He picked up his drumstick. His eyes were shining.

‘What key are you in?’ said Arthur, turning to the piano. ‘F, wasn’t it?’

‘Sing the opening again, would you?’ said O’Brian, raising his whistle to his lips.

And Tallula belted out the opening again.

‘
I used to be a loner,

I used to be a freak . . .
’

And the Boys joined in. Drums crashed, the piano leapt into life and the penny whistle added perfect little toodles in all the right places. It was loud. It was strong. It worked! As for that voice . . .

TT threw his clipboard to one side and leaned against the shed wall with his arms folded. His foot was tapping and he was grinning broadly.

He thought it unlikely that she possessed a pair of fashionable trousers. And there was no way he would find a T-shirt to fit her. But there was no doubt about it.

Tallula was fantastic!

Two Meetings

Scott Sinister, famous star of stage and screen, lounged on his sumptuous sofa staring at the Genie who sat in the armchair opposite, smiling toothily.

A visit from any old Genie would be an event. But this wasn’t any old Genie. This was none other than Ali Pali.
The
Ali Pali. The Genie with the golden touch. The rich, successful entrepreneur Genie who owned Witchway Spellovision and lived a life of enviable luxury in a marble palace with sherbet fountains and a heated swimming pool. The sort of Genie you wanted to keep
in
with.

‘Mystery Celebrity, eh?’ mused Scott. ‘A Battle of the Bands. Hmm. I must admit it sounds intriguing.’

‘Excellent!’ cried Ali, beaming away like a beacon. ‘I knew I could count on you!’

Like all Genies, Ali was a flashy dresser. On his head was the traditional bejewelled turban. On his feet were the curly-toed slippers. He went in for a lot of glittery jewellery. He had, however, wisely exchanged the traditional skimpy bolero and flimsy pants combination for an expensive-looking golden business suit, cut cleverly to hide his tummy.

At his feet was the shabby old carpet bag he always carried to remind himself of his humble roots (he used to sell flying carpets). Scott knew all about Ali’s bag because it had featured in a celebrity magazine called
Famous and Fabulous
. The magazine ran a regular article called
What’s In Their Bags?
Ali’s bag contained all his mystical Genie stuff – magical gifts, purses of gold, priceless jewels, a packet of sherbet lemons and spare golden underwear.