A Bump on the Head by Caroline Tailby (romantic love story reading .TXT) 📖

closer now.
“You all right?”
“I…think so.” I replied with a strain.
“Did they take your money?”
“No. I haven’t got any on me. They just knocked me to the ground.”
I felt strong hands helping me up, and finally caught a glimpse of the guy who’d saved me. He was in a suit, dark hair greased back, brown eyes, and wearing an old-fashioned trilby hat. I didn’t get time for a long detailed look, because he jumped away from me the minute we made eye contact. I wondered why he was so shocked.
“Oh my gosh! You’re a…you’re a GIRL!”
WHAT?!
“What?”
“I thought you were a boy.” The guy pointed towards me. “You’re wearing trousers.”
I peered down at my legs. What was so weird about M&S jeans?
“But everyone wears jeans once in a while…don’t they?”
The man looked puzzled. I couldn’t work out why until he said so.
“What in the world are jeans?”
“You don’t know what jeans are?!”
“Nope.”
I was dumbfounded. I asked him what planet he thought he was from.
“Pretty sure it’s this one.”
I couldn’t resist a chortle. “With that suit? Come on, man! Nobody wears suits like that this year.”
“Oh, yeah? Then what year is it, wisey?”
Wisey?! Nobody calls anyone that in the year I said.
“2010.”
The man looked a bit surprised. “But it’s 1929.”
“YOU WHAT?!!!” I looked around myself. Sure enough, rather than smooth tarmac, the road was cobbled. The blue BMW that had been parked on the street corner had turned into an old-fashioned black car. And the buildings weren’t the semi-detached houses on my street. They were terraced, and they looked like shops. I was struck dumb. Well, not completely dumb, because I managed to say something. “I’m sorry. I take all that back. I’m from the future.”
“What in the world…?!” the man cried. “The future? You can’t be from there, it hasn’t happened yet.” He shrugged. “What’s your name, anyway?”
“Liana. Liana Perry.”
He held out his hand. I suppose he must have expected me to shake it. “Pleased to meet you, I’m Bugsy Malone.”
I KNEW HE LOOKED FAMILIAR! I was completely blown away!
“BUGSY MALONE?! OH MY GOD!” I yelled out. Now it was Bugsy’s turn to be blown away, only not as much as I was!
“You know me?”
“Of course I know you! All about you! You’re friends with the mobster Fat Sam Stacetto, right?”
“Yeah.”
“And you helped him fight off Dandy Dan and his gang.”
Bugsy laughed a bit. I think he was kind of flattered. “Well, I…”
“With splurge guns,” I interrupted him. “I know it all. I’ve watched the movie loads.”
“Wow, you know a lo…” Bugsy didn’t finished his sentence before he exclaimed “…MOVIE?!”
I was slightly perplexed. Didn’t Bugsy know what a movie was?
“Yes, you’re…part of a movie.”
“I’m as real as the next person, thank you very much.” Ah. So he did, he just didn’t think he was part of one. Well, he wouldn’t, I suppose. If I was part of a movie I wouldn’t think so. I apologized.
“Oh, it doesn’t matter. You hungry?”
Hungry?! Why on earth would I be hungry?!
“Not really.”
“You’re not hungry?!” Of course I wasn’t. I had my dinner before the show! Bugsy shrugged again. “Ah well. You can come over to my place. I’ll make you a cocoa, you need it.”
Did I? Well, Bugsy seemed to think I did. Then, to my total astonishment, he put his arm around me and began to lead me down the street.
I was a titbit embarrassed. I’m a tomboy, and I really don’t like being hugged and all that. But Bugsy had a kind of comforting air to him. It’s difficult to describe.
“You’re not saying much,” he remarked, making me jump. “You the strong, silent type or somethin’?”
“No, no!” I answered hurriedly. “I’m just trying to get everything straight in my head. Who were those guys that attacked me?”
“Oh, them?” Bugsy said. “Just some gang.”
“Do you know them?”
“Yeah, I know ‘em. But you don’t need to. I’ll get you safe, Liana. Right?”
“Right.” I answered without thinking. Man, no wonder I wasn’t saying much! Bugsy kept talking and wouldn’t let me get a word in edgeways. We came to his house and he unlocked the door. He let me in first. “Do sit down,” he said, so I sat at the table.
We finally got some conversation when he started making my cocoa. “So where you from?”
That was easy to answer. “I’m from Britain,” I said. “London.”
“Ah, London,” said Bugsy, a little dreamily. “Beautiful place. Anyway, here’s your cocoa.”
He placed a steaming mug on the table in front of me, then sat down himself. I took a sip, and oh the taste! It was so indulging, so creamy, so…well…cocoaey. Sorry, can’t find a better word to describe it! Oh, my mouth’s watering as I write remembering that cocoa. I started drinking it eagerly. Bugsy noticed and smiled.
“Do you like it?” he asked.
“It’s great,” I said. “Best I’ve ever tasted.”
“My mother’s recipe. She was Italian. Little milk, shaken and not stirred.”
“James Bond says that.” Whoops! That just came out of nowhere!
“What?! Who’s he?” Bugsy said with a confused chortle.
“Ohhh…I forgot. It’s 1929,” I laughed. “The first Bond film hasn’t been made yet. Anyway,” I changed the subject. “Enough about him. Found any new fighters, Mr. Malone?”
“You can call me Bugsy.” Bugsy said. His next words were a little astonished. “And…you know my job?”
“Sure,” I said, proud to be surprising him. “You work for Cagey Joe, walking around town finding boxers.”
“That’s right!” said Bugsy. He seemed kind of impressed that I knew so much about him. Then he seemed to drift into a memory. “In fact I…”
I finished his sentence for him! “…used to be a fighter yourself. Could have been a contender.”
Oh, Bugsy’s face! He was so taken aback when I said that! “You took the words right out of my mouth!”
“Well, I knew you were going to say that. You say it in the movie.”
Bugsy seemed a little annoyed at that. “I told you, I’m not from a movie. I’m totally real.” He changed the subject back to the boxing. “You familiar with boxing?”
“My dad watches it sometimes. On TV.” That was a little understated. When the boxing comes on on BBC Sport my dad watches it beginning to end. My mum’s always telling him to ‘Get off your backside and come and help me with the housework!’ and when he doesn’t she goes ‘Liana! Come and help me with the housework, please!’ That is so annoying.
Bugsy was perplexed. “TV?” he said.
“Oh, um…” I had to think of what to say now. “…future thing.”
“You know, I seriously don’t think you are from the future. You must be a bit confused. Have you been hit on the head?”
Yes!
“Well…yes.”
“Yeah, I guess those dumb bums must have punched it pretty hard.”
The gang?!
“No, it wasn’t them…”
Now it was Bugsy’s turn to interrupt me. “Sure it was. And I know just the thing for it…lemonade.” He stood up. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“I’ll take you to Fat Sam’s. You can get the best drinks there.”
“Fat Sam’s?!” I asked, surprised. “Will I be allowed in there?”
“Sure, if you have an adult with you. Me, in this case. And I won’t have to pay a thing to get in – old Sam knows me well.” He began to walk towards the front door, then turned back to me. “Well, come on!” I got up, sharpish, and followed Bugsy out the door.


Entry 3

Blousey and the Grand Slam

So you see what’s happened here so far? I’ve been hit on the head by a ladder on some brainless stagehand’s shoulder and travelled back in time to 1929, which in case you don’t know is the year that Bugsy Malone takes place. It was when “the import of alcohol was prohibited in the USA” (or something like that). At least that’s what Miss Raymond said. I think it means alcoholic drinks were banned in America. So people set up speakeasies. A speakeasy is a café-type thing that the local council or government doesn’t even know exists. In Bugsy Malone Fat Sam owns one, Fat Sam’s Grand Slam. It’s disguised as a bookstore. That’s where I went now with Bugsy.

It didn’t take long to get there. Bugsy’s house was literally around the corner from the bookstore. It didn’t look like it does on the film. It seemed kind of shabbier. Don’t ask me why. We walked in and the man behind the counter said “Evenin’ Bugsy.” I realised I didn’t know this man’s name, but I found out soon enough. A split second. “Evenin’, Pop.” Hmm, weird name. Bugsy knocked on the nearby bookshelf and a small hatch opened. “Hi, Jelly,” I heard Bugsy say. “Hi, Bugsy,” came the reply. “Just you?”
“Nah, I got a kid with me. Liana here.”
I poked my face through the hatch. I had to stand on tiptoe because, like I said, I’m kind of small for my age. Everyone here seemed to be too, but then, Bugsy Malone is a movie that’s just kids. “Hi!” I called through the hatch.
Bugsy spoke again. “Liana, do you know Jelly from this movie I’m in?”
“Yeah, he’s the one that let’s people in through the bookstore.” Obviously.
“That’s right!” He spoke to Jelly again as I lowered myself down. “Jelly, I found Liana on the street. She got attacked by Dandy Dan’s gang and she’s a little confused.”
Never mind me. Jelly looked more confused than I felt. “All right, but she’s dressed kinda weird. Look at those trousers.”
How did he see my jeans? Don’t ask me.
“I know,” said Bugsy. “I was puzzled too.”
“I need a glass of lemonade according to Bugsy.” I cut in.
“Come on in then,” responded Jelly, and the shelf slid along like a sliding door (which it was) to reveal a doorway to…Fat Sam’s Grand Slam! It was bright, lively, music was playing, just like it is in the film. I stared in awe.
“Enjoyin’ the view?” Bugsy’s voice from behind made me jump. Again. “Come on, let’s go down to the bar. Max’ll get us some drinks.” Max? Oh yeah, the barman. I followed Bugsy down the stairs to the bar where another man was drying a glass behind it. He looked up as Bugsy approached. “Hi, Mr. Malone. What can I get for you tonight?”
“Special on the rocks, huh?” I caught up with Bugsy and he smiled in my direction. “And a lemonade for the kid.”
Max gave me a strange look, but smiled at Bugsy. “Comin’ up.” He turned to get the drinks as I sat on a bar stool next to Bugsy.
“The girls come and do their thing in a minute.” Bugsy really had a habit of making me jump. But this time I kept my cool.
“Their dancing?”
“You got it. My girlfriend is one of ‘em.” I just ‘happened’ to know his girlfriend’s name!
“Blousey Brown?”
“Yeah! Wow. You know a lot about us for a kid.”
“How will I know who she is?” I said that because I genuinely couldn’t remember what Blousey looked like. It had been a while since I last watched the film. But my wondering was short-lived.
“I’ll point her out to you. Hey, look. Here they come now.”
I swivelled my head to look in the direction Bugsy was pointing – towards the stage. Sure enough, eleven girls were making their way onto the stage. Two were in long dresses down to their ankles, and the rest were wearing leotard-type things with really short legs and sleeves. All the outfits were