Lula Does the Hula (41 page)

There was no doubt in my mind as blood streamed from my nose, my shoulder, my arm, as my head grew fuzzy and dizzy, as the crew around me screamed with jubilation while I slumped over my blade handle, that I was the most disgusterous specimen on the river. I fully appreciated Jack’s firm hold under the perfect breasts of Jazz Delaney.

‘Hilary, two strokes,
now
,’ came Pen’s voice, quieting the excited chatter in the boat around me.

‘No,’ said Matilda. ‘We’re not going in just yet. We need to warm down.’

‘
Now
, Hilary,’ repeated Pen. ‘Tatty needs a bit of first aid.’

Matilda twisted to look at me and I saw her eyes widen before the world swung this way and that before me. ‘Blade up, Tatty,’ commanded Matilda, doing the same. ‘And drop your head on your knees, you moron.’

I obeyed, and began to retch into the boat beneath me, though nothing was coming up.

‘Is she puking?’ asked Kelly.

‘Think so,’ said Dion, ‘but I’m not seeing the vomit.’

‘Oh, this is totally gross,’ moaned Kelly. ‘Where’s the
glory in tipping up our boat onshore and a billion litres of blood and sick spilling out?’

The O’Connelly sisters clamoured their horror, but in minutes Pen had steered us to the jetty and, though my nose was still gushing, I’d stopped heaving.

Mr VDM was doing a loony dance on the boards of the jetty. The whole platform was bouncing and splashing in the water. I tried to sit up straight, but the world spun again and I retched.

‘Head
down
,’ hissed Matilda. ‘The camera’s on you. Hide the blood.’

I heaved a shuddering sigh. Why the frik did nothing ever go my way? Stretching forward carefully, I unlaced my feet from the footboard and looked around for something to staunch the blood.

‘You’d better have this,’ said Pen, and she hauled off her sweatshirt, passing it down to Matilda, who shoved it under my nose.

‘’Ankoo,’ I mumbled. ‘Ayeeingothesoff.’

‘What?’ asked Matilda.

‘She’s whining about me taking my clothes off,’ said Pen. She held on to the jetty and eased herself out of the cox’s seat, then leapt nimbly on to the boards in her trisuit and nothing else. I saw her scanning the crowds, and then her face lit up and she raised her arm in a wide wave. She looked sensational.

And, clearly, Angus thought so too. He was beaming and hurrying over as fast as his muscle-bound legs could carry him.

Then a big hairy arm with a very bling red patent-leather Chanel handbag over the shoulder stretched out and held my rigger firmly against the jetty. ‘Hop out, Tatty, but watch the shirt. I’ve got to go onstage in this later.’

‘Dad? Whaoinghere?’

I staggered ashore, Pen helping too, leaving my crewmates and Arns to bring the boat in, while my father held me at arm’s length all the way to the first-aid tent.

‘Aren’t you pleased to see me?’ burbled Dad. ‘I got such a welcome from the Setting Sun folks, and they’re so proud of you. What a race! Jack was filming the whole time, with commentary! They’re going to rerun it in the members’ tent after the men’s final. Car broke down, of course. Nearly didn’t make it. But Dan said Oscar was ready for a drive?’

‘He made it all the way here?’ I smiled behind the wadding of Pen’s shirt. ‘Go, Oscar.’

Dad squeezed my shoulder. ‘I’m sorry I got to drive him before you. I thought it would be better to do that than miss the race.’

‘Definitely,’ agreed Pen.

We came to a halt in front of the first-aid tent, and I found myself smiling at my father, though probably the only thing he could see of me was smiley eyes.

I didn’t mind at all that Dad had driven Oscar – or that he had his crazy woman’s bag with him. I was just so relieved to see he was entirely sober. And relieved that I was entirely alive.

‘Lula,’ said Dad, ‘I see you looking at my bag. But just let it go, okay? See this?’ He tugged at a bunch of gold clasps and pulled it open. ‘The
most
convenient pocket for my iPhone. Right here.’

I groaned. ‘Put it
away
!’

Pen hugged me even closer and suddenly burst into tears. ‘Oh, Tallulah!’

‘P-Pen?’ I stammered.

‘Do you have any idea what was going on out there?’ she bleated. ‘Any idea?’

‘A very tough race, and you at the helm, brilliant girl,’ I said firmly, squeezing her forearm more firmly still and sliding my eyes to the left, to my father, about to go onstage in a few minutes, and needing no high drama to tip him over the edge. ‘Why don’t you see if you can find Sergeant T, and then wander back later’ – another eyeslide left to Dad – ‘and tell me what’s new.’

Pen was about to argue, but she saw someone in the crowd, nodded and hurried off with Angus in tow. Ah. Bludgeon. Ha. She’d post him as sentry for sure.

‘Your nose is bleeding again,’ said Dad. ‘Thank goodness Dr McCabe is doing first aid today.’ He stepped into the
tent, bag neatly on his shoulder again. ‘Hi, Doc. Could you take a look at Tallulah’s nose? And her face?’

I nearly turned and ran. Then I remembered that we’d won the race and Dr McCabe’s only child was safely ashore. I could deal with this man’s anti-Tatty vibe no problem when I had no guilt to compound it. I stepped out from behind Dad and watched Dr McCabe do a double-take.

‘Goodness!’ he said. ‘Goodness gracious!’ And then he started rummaging in a small cardboard box of gauze and bottles and tape and vicious-looking syringes.

‘Don’t leave me,’ I muttered to Dad, grabbing his arm in a vice-like grip.

‘My shirt!’ moaned Dad. ‘Look what you’ve done!’

‘Where’s all your famous sensitivity?’ I hissed. ‘I’m probably going to faint from loss of blood!’

‘Yes, but did you have to lose it
all over my shirt
?’

I rolled my eyes. And promptly passed out.

I could hear someone calling my name. And there was a comforting beam shining just ahead of me that I felt I wanted to draw near to. The light flashed off. Oh. Is this how it was supposed to go? I was to find my way in the darkness? The light flashed on. I strained to see ahead and suddenly the light was blinding me.

‘Please, Dr McCabe, move your torch from my
daughter’s eyes. That can’t be good for the retinas.’

The light went away. I blinked blearily and made out my mother, just at my shoulder, staring down at me. She was wearing a Hawaiian-print caftan in blues and golds, and I could see she’d trimmed her own hair again, though it didn’t look DIY this time, thank frik. Somewhere, not far away, someone was belting out a catchy rhythm and I could hear familiar lyrics:

‘I’ve died and gone to hell,’ I whimpered, squeezing my eyes shut with a shudder.

‘Oh, she’s awake!’ squealed my mother.

My eyes shot open again. Aha. It was definitely my mother, and I was alive. Blue was holding her hand. I could just see her eyes peeping over the mattress.

‘What is that noise?’ I whispered. ‘Tell me that’s not Dad singing.’ My eyes began to water. ‘Tell me he’s not onstage singing. With the handbag.’

‘I took care of it.’ I turned my head in the direction of Pen’s voice. She was sitting on a high stool to my left, still in the trisuit, still looking great. ‘He’s on the drums, the bag is
behind the bass, but he’s still man of the moment
cos guess who’s singing?
Dizzee!’ She squealed and clapped her hands. Then a serious look crossed her face. ‘But you’ve got to get out there for the hula dance. Mrs Baldacci will be as mad as a snake. Not to mention Alex – you don’t want to pee off Alex. Hey, you okay?’

‘Is Dad –’

‘Oh, yeah yeah. Dad. Dad is fine. Don’t worry. Blue has been getting him loads of water whenever he feels thirsty.’

‘Yay for Bluebird.’ A smile cracked across my aching face and I tried to sit up.

Dr McCabe hove suddenly into view. ‘Down!’ he commanded. ‘You’ve still got half a litre to go.’ And he fiddled with a bag of liquid hanging above me, the tube snaking its way down to my arm.

‘Whoa,’ I said. ‘I needed that?’

‘Yes, so make sure you do exactly what Doctor Mac says, okay, Lula?’ Mum looked stern and wagged a finger. ‘Well done on the race, love’ – a kiss to the cheek – ‘I’m going to check on your father.’

We waited till Mum had exited the tent before shrilling queries at each other. We would have gone on forever:
Who? What? Did you see –? And then there was this THWOCK! Did the girls cycle past him? Was it –?

But then, ‘Enough!’ Sergeant T’s voice boomed round
the first-aid tent, and it takes some doing for a voice to boom in a tent, I can tell you.

Sergeant T! Who? What? Did you see –? And the THWOCKs! Did the girls cycle past him? Healey? Was it him? Was it you phoning Jack?

‘If you don’t stop now,’ she said, raising her hand, ‘Tallulah won’t have a chance to get cleaned up in time for the hula dancing. Dr McCabe says you’re good to go, Lula.’

‘Oh no,’ I said in mock dismay.

‘Mrs Baldacci . . .’ began Sergeant T.

‘Okay, okay,’ I mumbled, and elbowed myself up into a half-sitting position. The drip was nearly empty, and I was almost ready to leave, but I needed to find out . . .

‘Did you get Healey?’ I asked.

Sergeant T smiled and nodded. ‘We got him, thanks to Mr Kadinski. Gavin rang us to say he’d overhead his mad grandfather going on about “taking down that girl”, and he gave us all the information. I’m sorry we didn’t get there sooner, though I guess we have Mr K and six police officers now to give evidence that he was shooting across the river. Honestly, I don’t know what that old man thought he’d achieve by killing you, Tallulah.’

Pen shuddered, her hands coming up to her face. ‘It was so terrible,’ she said, her voice shaking. ‘So, so terrible.’

‘You totally saved my bacon,’ I said, and pulled my little sister into a hug. ‘And Sergeant T, and Mr Kadinski.’ I
offered Arns’s mum my hand. ‘Thank you.’

Sergeant T smiled and shook my hand. ‘You’re welcome. That boy Jack was ready to dive in and apprehend Healey himself too, you know.’

I bit my lip. ‘What stopped him?’

‘Mr Kadinski got there first,’ said Sergeant T. ‘Followed shortly by my team. And I’d better get back to them before they let Healey throw his wig in the river or some other ridiculous disaster. See you later, girls.’

‘This is perfecto, Pen!’ I said, squeezing Pen harder. ‘Those fibres will match up and they’ll get him for murdering Parcel for sure, won’t they?’

‘Get your scabby arms off me,’ said my sister, sniffing and dropping her hands. ‘And don’t second-guess the law. It’s too complex for the likes of your blunderiness.’

I shot her an amused
Oh yeah?
look.

She set her jaw, narrowing her eyes. ‘PLUS! Enough with the mysteries and the violence and the crazy people, Lu. Enough.’

‘Oh, please,’ I mocked. ‘You love it really.’ Sergeant T’s revelations about Jack had made me feel a little happier, though I still wondered why he hadn’t called since yesterday. I swung my legs off the bed. Maybe it was time to wash some blood away and get out there to hula.

Oh, frik. The hula.

The curtains were drawn and the band was tuning up. I could hear Dad doing plinky plonky irritating things on the piano, and someone laughing heartily. My eyes narrowed. I would never laugh heartily again. Not after this public humiliation. Never. Never ever.

‘I’d rather be shot at by bad men with guns than hula on this stage,’ I hissed at Alex.

‘Hey!’ she trilled, looking fabulous in her luau get-up. ‘Did you hear about Jazz?’

‘What about Jazz?’ I asked, though I really didn’t want to know. In the wings the Hambledon boys stirred nervously, all pale bare hairless chests and surfer shorts. ‘Why don’t they have to wear bikini bottoms?’ I grouched. ‘
We’ve
got to expose all!’

‘Oh, Tatty, stop moaning. You look great! I’d love a pair of bikini boulders like yours, and I thought you said there was a Pot Noodle Pot going on?’ Alex gestured at my naked midriff. ‘No Pot. No Pot at all. Much lusher than Jazz, who
let me tell you is totally humiliated after Esme accused her of messing with your seat in the boat.’

‘No! Why’d she do that?’

‘Esme says she saw her, but Jazz said she has no proof.’

‘I bet Esme wasn’t pleased.’

Alex shrugged and turned to face the front as Mrs Baldacci ran on to give us our last instructions.

‘Who’s my hula partner?’ I hissed.

‘Well, it ain’t Arns, that’s for sure. Mona would decapitate him.’

I was startled. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘You haven’t seen the portraits?’

‘What portraits?’

‘Hoo boy.’ Alex laughed quietly.

‘You’d better tell me now, Alex Thompson, or I’ll untie your bikini top in the middle of the routine.’