In a nutshell, Mr. Barraclough and most of the village people think that Dother Hall is for fools. That is why they call it Dither Hall.

With a bit of luck I’ll be able to creep up to Ruby’s room without Mr. Barraclough hearing me. I went quietly in through the front door of the pub. There’s a real racket coming from the bar so I’ll just creepy creep up the—

“Well, well, well, thank the Lord the thespians are back!!! I haven’t known WHAT to do with myself since tha left. By ’eck, is there a giant gene in your family, young man? You’ve sprung up again, haven’t you, lad! What are you practicing being today? Dun’t tell me! Let me guess.” Oh dear. There he was. Ruby’s dad. In his leather trousers and Viking helmet.

He was looking at me, stroking his chin.

“Hmmm. Green trousers, rain hat, anorak. Big boots. Are you a Hobbit, is that it?”

I said, “Hello, Mr. Barraclough.”

He put his hand to his ear. “Is that elfin you’re speaking?”

Just then Bob, the technician from Dother Hall, emerged from the “Stags” door. He was also wearing a Viking helmet. Over his ponytail. He saw me and said, “Nice one, Tallulah. Great to see you back. Monday I’ll be there at Dother Hall, the dude with the know-how, the equipment king, the ‘facilitator’ . . . but tonight I’m the real me. The muso. The rhythm master. Be prepared for total madness. The vibe is going to be like awesome.”

Like awesome?

He went off into the front bar.

I said, “Why is Bob here?”

Mr. Barraclough chucked me under the chin.

“Why is Bob here? Why is Bob here? I’ll tell you why he’s here, young man. He’s our new drummer for The Iron Pies. We are going to be a sound sensation. We’ve got our first gig in Cleckheaton next weekend. Good to see you back, young Bilbo.”

He went off into the bar shouting, “Hit it, lads!”

And an awful din of drums and guitars started up. It really did sound like Bob was just hitting things.

Ruby and Matilda came tumbling down from upstairs. Matilda was leaping up at my legs and Ruby was dancing around me, yelling, “It’s Tallulah-lebulla, Matilda. Let’s mek her dance. Do the dance, Tallulah-lebulla! Do the dance!!!”

I said with dignity, “I don’t want to. You know I’ve sort of grown out of the Irish dancing thing.”

The Iron Pies crashed into their version of a James Bond theme. Mr. Barraclough started singing, “From Russia with PIES I came to yooooooo.”

And Ruby had to yell over the top of it. “Oh, come on, just a little bit. For me! I’ll sing the Irish song. ‘Hiddly diddly diddly diddle.’”

So I let myself go. I did my Irish dancing. Ruby joined in and we were leaping and hopping around in the hallway. It was fun actually. There was no one to see me and I needed to relax so I let my knees go wherever they pleased.