Then I thought I’d go down to the river. I crossed the village green as the back of Mr. Barraclough disappeared into The Blind Pig.

Over the little bridge is the path that leads up to Dother Hall. Underneath it is the Heck River, or actually, the Heck Stream. That Beverley threw herself in because of Cain.

Yes, there it was, the mighty Heck Stream, swollen to twice its depth by the incessant rain. So now it was four inches deep. What a fool that Beverley was. When she threw herself into the river, she just ruined her frock. The water only came up to her bottom.

I wondered what size her bottom was now after her hunger strike.

Anyway, I’m not going to be intimidated by the Bottomly sisters this term. Dignity at all times is what is called for. I’m not going to enter into any ugly scenes with them. I am, after all, fifteen and not a kid who—

And that’s when I saw them.

The Bottomly sisters.

Well, three of the Bottomly sisters—Beverley wasn’t with them.

Ecclesiastica, Diligence, and Chastity were eating pies. In fact, Chastity had one in each hand. And it wasn’t even lunchtime. They were eating pre-lunch pies.

And I bet they’re having pies for lunch.

Eccles saw me and said, “Oooh, look, it’s the long dunderwhelp.”

Chas said, with her mouth full, “My mum said she saw you, sitting on blind people on her bus.”

Dil said, “Come on, let’s go. She’s putting me off me pie.”

And they went off eating and giving me the evils.

Eccles turned back and said, “Oh, I forgot, Beverley told me to gie you this. So here you are, you lanky idiot.”

And she gave me a grubby bit of paper.

As they lumbered off, Ruby and Matilda came tumbling along. Ruby was out of breath. And Matilda had to have a little lie-down.

“I saw you . . . I drew me curtains. I wor up in me room and I thought, Ay up, there’ll be trouble. So we came to your rescue. Wot did the big daft lasses say?”

“They gave me a note from Beverley.”

Ruby said, “Can she write? Is it a death threat? Gie us a look.”

She took the note from me and read it slowly, tutting, and then she said, “That Beverley can’t really do joined-up writing, but I think it says, ‘To the lanky streak of lard.’”

What?

Ruby said, “That’s you, Tallulah.”

“What is?”

“You are the lanky streak of lard.”

“What’s lard?”

“It’s fat made from bits of cow.”

Nice.

She went on. “Then it says, ‘Si tha if thee knows wot’s good for thee tha’ll shut it and sling yer ’ook.’”

I looked at her as if she was speaking rubbish.

Which she was.

She explained, “Erm, well, in a nutshell it says, ‘Shut up and clear off.’”

Charming.

There was more. Ruby read out, “‘He’s not interested in a bumberskite like you. It’s only because tha threw your sen at ’im and gallivant around like a tit.’”