Martine was holding her own flat stomach, shaking her head. ‘It’s so stupid. Why does it have to be so messy and painful? Why can’t we be like kangaroos and have babies the size of baked beans that just crawl up into a pocket in our stomachs?’
We both thought about it – and shuddered.
‘Yuck,’ I said.
‘Yes, OK, bad idea,’ said Martine, giggling, though she looked as if she might start crying instead.
I swallowed. ‘Martine. Martine, I’ve got to tell you something,’ I said.
‘Not now, Dixie. I need to phone Tony.’
‘But it’s important. It’s about the baby.’
‘Yeah, well, tell me later, Dixie,’ said Martine, running up the stairs, dialling as she went.
I was about to trail after her when there was a knock at the door. I went rushing to open it, hoping it was Jude.
It was Rochelle, jumping up and down in her suede heels, sparkling like a real diamond.
‘Guess what, guess what, guess what!’ she said.
‘You’ll never guess,’ I said. ‘Rochelle, come here.’ I seized her by the arm and marched her past the living room, making ssh! gestures.
‘Ah. Yes. Better not tell Mum. You won’t tell, Dixie, will you?’ Rochelle whispered urgently.
‘Tell what?’
‘I’ve got a boyfriend!’ said Rochelle, and she twirled around, shaking her head wildly so that her long blonde curls flew up in a glorious golden halo.
‘You what? Yeah, like you’ve stared at some boy and he’s waved at you,’ I said.
‘No, really. I’ve got a date. Tonight. A real date, outside McDonald’s. We’ll maybe go for a drink later.’
‘In a pub? As if they’d let you in – you’re only twelve!’
‘I’m nearly thirteen. He thinks I’m a bit older anyway.’
‘How old is he?’
‘Sixteen,’ said Rochelle proudly.
‘You’re mad! You can’t go out with a sixteen-year-old.’ I stood still, halfway up the stairs. ‘It’s not that guy who had the fight with Jude?’
‘Not the big fat one! No, the really cool guy with the scarf and the earring. He likes me, Dixie, he really does. He says I’m much prettier than any of the other girls on the Planet Estate. He thinks that’s why Jude made such a fool of herself. He says she must be jealous of me, seeing as I’m the pretty one.’
‘Stop showing off!’ I said.
‘Look, I didn’t say I was pretty. Ryan did.’
‘That’s his name?’
‘Yes, isn’t it great? Ryan and Rochelle. We sound like a couple already. And if you count up the letters in our names and play Love, Like, Hate, Adore, then we both come out Adore – how about that!’
‘You can’t adore him, you don’t even know him yet.’
‘Well, I’m going to get to know him properly tonight, aren’t I?’
‘You’re not really going on a date with him?’
‘I am, I am, I am! Has Brucie Weirdo got the washing machine working? I need to wash my best jeans.’
‘Mum will go mad if she finds out.’
‘Well, she won’t find out, will she? Unless you tell her. And you’re not going to tell, are you, Dixie?’ Rochelle caught hold of me, her hands digging into my shoulders like big bird claws. ‘You’re not to tell Martine either. You’re especially not going to tell Jude. Because if you do I’m going to take that stupid stuffed budgie and tear its head off, OK?’
Rochelle gave me a little shake to show she really meant it. I knew she’d probably tear my head off my shoulders too.
She went singing into the living room to find her boxes of clothes. I heard Mum mumbling something crossly, but Rochelle took no notice. She came out nudging a box across the bare floorboards, holding something wrapped in newspaper in one hand. Her arm stuck out stiffly, her face screwed up in disgust.
‘Yuck! Dirty nappy alert. What am I going to do with it? Here, Dixie.’ Rochelle tried to pass it on to me. I put my hands behind my back and dodged, running to Bruce in the kitchen.
If Mum had changed Sundance then she must have seen she wasn’t a boy. What was she playing at? She was acting like a crazy person.
‘You OK, Dixie?’ said Bruce. ‘Was that Roxanne having a go at you? What was she saying?’
‘Oh, nothing much.’
‘What is it? Are you sure you can’t tell your Uncle Bruce. Spit it out, sweetheart.’
I couldn’t spit out all the things that were troubling me or he’d be dripping from head to foot. I decided on a minimalist spit.
‘Uncle Bruce, what do you do with dirty nappies?’ I remembered there was still one hidden in Rochelle’s dressing-table drawer. I decided it served her right. ‘Shall I throw this down the toilet?’
Bruce stopped tapping pipes and stared at me. ‘You must never ever throw them down the toilet, Dixie,’ he said firmly. ‘I’ve got enough to do sorting out this house without you blocking up the toilets.’
‘So what do you do with them?’
‘I don’t know. It’s not a problem I’m used to. Ask your sisters.’
‘They’re all busy,’ I said.
Then I heard another knock at the door. ‘Jude!’ I said joyfully.
I flew to the front door. Then I stopped and stared. Jude had blood all over her face.
‘Jude, what’s happened? Mum! Martine! Uncle Bruce!’
‘Shut up, Dixie,’ said Jude, clapping her hand over my mouth.
‘What have you done? You’re bleeding!’
‘I’m OK. I’ve just had a little nosebleed, that’s all. Quit flapping, I’m fine.’ She wiped her nose angrily on the edge of her T-shirt.
‘No you’re not.’ I peered at her furious face. ‘It’s not just a nosebleed. Did someone hit you?’
‘No! I fell over. Stupid of me. Now shut up about it.’
‘I won’t shut up! You didn’t fall over, someone knocked you over. Oh Jude, was it that Ryan?’
‘Who?’
‘The boy Rochelle’s nuts about. Oh gosh, I’ve told! But if he’s beaten you up—’
‘No one’s beaten me up. Especially not that idiot with the earring. I could flatten him with one finger.’ Jude sniffed contemptuously. Bubbles of blood came out of her nose. I gave a little squeal.
‘Are you all right, Dixie?’ Bruce called from the kitchen. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘Nothing! You mind your own business,’ Jude said fiercely. ‘I’m going to wash the blood off.’
‘You can’t, Rochelle’s in the bathroom.’
‘Well, she’ll have to get out of the bathroom because I need it,’ Jude said thickly.
Bruce came out into the hall. ‘Ouch,’ he said, looking at Jude. ‘Come into the kitchen. We’ll put a wet towel on your nose – that’ll stop it. Come on, Jade.’
‘It’s bloody Jude,’ said Jude.
‘Yes, you are bloody, Jude. You’re bleeding like a stuck pig and making a mess of your shirt. Come here,’ said Bruce. He took hold of her by the wrist and pulled.
I thought she’d sock him straight in his sticky-out teeth. She can’t stand anyone pulling her, not even me. She did struggle for a few seconds, but then she gave in and let him steer her into the kitchen. She was shivering now and he patted her gently on the shoulder. He patted me too.
‘Cheer up, chickie,’ he said to me. ‘We’ll soon get your sister cleaned up.’
He didn’t waste time asking how she’d got a bloody nose. He just fished an old towel out of the kitchen cardboard box, soaked it under the tap and held it firmly against her nose.
‘There we are. Lean your head forward.’ He looked down at her right hand. The knuckles were bleeding. ‘I think you need something on those knuckles too.’
‘Do you think we need to take Jude to hospital, Uncle Bruce?’
‘You Diamonds are turning my van into an ambulance service! No, she’ll be fine, nothing to fuss about, like she said. We’ll have a proper squint at that sore nose once it’
s stopped bleeding but I don’t think she’s broken it. I’ve got a little first aid kit in the van. I’ll rustle up some arnica to stop the bruising and a spot of antiseptic for those knuckles. I’m a one-man casualty department.’
He went off to get them while Jude hid her head in the towel.
‘Isn’t Uncle Bruce magic?’ I said.
‘Bruce is not our blooming uncle,’ Jude mumbled from underneath the towel. She sounded as if she might be crying, though Jude never cries.
‘Does it hurt ever so badly?’
‘No, I’m fine, I said,’ Jude insisted.
When Bruce came back she let him mop up the last of the blood and then gently feel along her nose. He cleaned her hand too. She winced when he rubbed antiseptic into the split knuckles but she didn’t complain.
‘You’re a brave girl,’ said Bruce.
‘Rubbish,’ said Jude. She was still shivering.
‘Make us all a cup of tea, Dixie,’ said Bruce. ‘We’ll give Jude lots of sugar for the shock. And me lots of sugar because I’m greedy.’
‘I’m not in shock,’ said Jude.
‘You can’t help but be in shock when you get beaten up,’ said Bruce.
‘I haven’t been beaten up,’ said Jude. ‘No one ever beats me up. I can look after myself.’
‘Yeah?’ said Bruce. ‘Mmm.’
‘Look, all right, these boys had a go at me, but they took me by surprise. I didn’t even see them coming. I was going up these steps and they kind of ambushed me. I didn’t even know it was happening. They just laid into me. I did hit one of them. He went sprawling.’
‘I should say so,’ said Bruce, looking at her knuckles.
‘I think he just tripped though. But he looked like he’d hurt himself.’
‘Never mind him. You’re the one that’s hurt. A gang of yobs picking on one small girl! I thought I’d made it clear to that thick bunch to lay off all you Diamond girls.’
‘We don’t need you to fight our battles,’ Jude said automatically. She paused. ‘But thanks. No, this was a new gang, a different one.’
‘Did they just start hitting you for nothing, Jude?’
‘Well, they made out I was on their territory. They call themselves the Mercury Top Floor Boys – I mean, how sad is that? I laughed and said they were all plonkers and they couldn’t stop me going wherever I wanted … only they did.’
‘Oh Jude, promise you won’t ever go there again!’ I begged.
‘I’ll go where I want. We live on Mercury too,’ Jude said defiantly.
‘You’d better learn to defend yourself then,’ said Bruce.
Jude jerked away from him. ‘I can fight! I can take on anyone!’
‘Jude’s famous for fighting,’ I said.
‘Yes, I can see you could be handy with your fists, girl, but you need to use your whole body.’ Bruce stood up straight in his baggy T-shirt and saggy trackies. ‘OK, I know I’m not Mr Big Shot Muscleman, but I know what I’m saying.’
‘Which is?’
‘When you’re in a fight situation and you can’t back down—’
‘I never back down.’
‘You don’t have to meet force with force. You block it. Go on, try to hit me.’
‘I don’t think that’s a good idea, Uncle Bruce,’ I said quickly.
‘Give it a go, Jade,’ said Bruce.
‘Jude!’ said Jude, swinging a punch at him.
Bruce brought his arm up, hand open, and blocked Jude’s punch easily.
‘Oh,’ said Jude, trying not to look impressed. ‘Kung fu! I suppose you watch all those Bruce Lee films. Your namesake, eh?’
‘I actually took his name,’ Bruce said, blushing. ‘The greatest guy with the greatest philosophy on life.’
‘Yeah, well, I’m not into all that great-guy stuff, thanks,’ said Jude, jumping up.
‘I practise Wing Chun kung fu – and Wing Chun was a woman,’ said Bruce.
‘You’re kidding!’
‘Truly. And because it’s the only system devised by a woman it’s especially suited to them. And weedy blokes like me. It depends on technique, not power. You’re like a coiled spring.’
‘Show me,’ said Jude, giggling.
‘Well, you can’t just pick it up in an afternoon, girl. I’ve been going to classes for years, and I’ve read stuff, seen lots of videos. It’s a whole way of life. Still, I can show you the basic movements.’
Bruce stood in the middle of the kitchen and demonstrated. He should have looked ridiculous, straddling his little legs and waving his skinny arms around in his Simpsons T-shirt, but somehow he looked pretty good. He didn’t hitch his glasses up and down or grin nervously, hiding his teeth. His face was pure concentration, totally dignified.
‘Wow,’ said Jude.
I peered at her anxiously, but she wasn’t sending him up, she was serious. She tried to copy what Bruce was doing.
‘No, no, no. You start like this,’ Bruce said. ‘OK, the Horse Stance is the basic position. Stand with your legs together. Let your arms dangle by your side, nice and relaxed. Breathe easily. Well, it’s meant to be through the nose but yours is a bit sore and stuffed up right now. Just do your best. Empty your mind. Let go of all your thoughts.’
Jude stood obediently, her feet together, arms dangling. I tried to do it too, but I couldn’t empty my mind. My thoughts buzzed back and forth like bees. Sundance lay kicking in the middle of my mind, baring her little girl’s bottom.
‘I changed Sundance’s nappy,’ I blurted out.
‘Yes, yes, well done, Dixie, but shush now, we’re concentrating.’
‘Dixie doesn’t know how to concentrate,’ said Jude.
She was wrong. I was concentrating so fiercely on Sundance I couldn’t think about anything else, especially this Horse Stance.
I watched them sliding their heels and standing pointy-kneed. Bruce told Jude to imagine trapping a goat between her knees. She didn’t giggle. She did her best to copy him. I saw a big brown billy goat between Bruce’s knees; a little white woolly kid goat trapped between Jude’s. I could smell their strange goaty stink, hear their indignant bleats. They seemed so real, but I knew they weren’t there, I was just imagining them.
I clutched Bluebell, stroking her beak for comfort. She fluttered free, fanning her wings to cool my hot face. No. I was imagining her circling my head in a whirl of sky-blue. Maybe I was imagining Sundance’s lack of little willy …
There was only one way to find out. I left Bruce and Jude in their weird Horse Stances and tiptoed into the living room. Mum was lying on the mattress, her dark hair tousled on the pillow. Her eyes were closed.
Sundance was lying beside her, wrapped in the blue blanket. I crept nearer, holding my breath. I got right up to the mattress. Mum still didn’t stir. Sundance was sleeping too. I leaned over, hands outstretched. It would only take two seconds to unpop the little legs of the sleeping suit and open up the nappy. I flexed my fingers, willing them to work nimbly.
I grabbed the blue blanket.
‘Leave your little brother alone!’
I nearly fell right on top of Sundance and smothered him. Mum propped herself up on her elbows, glaring at me.
‘I told you to leave him be, Dixie!’ she hissed.
‘I’m sorry, Mum.’
‘So you should be! Now push off and leave us in peace.’
‘Yes, Mum,’ I said.
I started crying as I backed out of the room, bumping into all the furniture.
‘Oh for Gawd’s sake, stop that,’ said Mum. ‘I should be the one who’s howling. I’m lying here like a beached whale, still all fat and flabby. I’ve ended up in a rubbish house at the back of beyond with five kids to care for. What am I going to do, eh? What have you got to cry about, Dixie Daydream?’
‘Nothing,’ I said, sobbing harder.
Sundance snuffled and started crying too.
‘There! Now you’ve woken your little brother and he’ll want another flipping feed.’
<
br /> Mum sighed deeply and started unbuttoning her top. She picked Sundance up, still wrapped in the blanket like a swiss roll. She cradled him, his little downy head against her big white breast.
‘Who’s my greedy little darling?’ Mum whispered. ‘That’s my boy. My thirsty little lad. You’ll be a one for the beer when you’re older.’ Mum looked at me. ‘Off you go then, Dixie. I feel all self-conscious with you staring at me like that. Dry your eyes, darling. There’s nothing to cry about. You’ve got a lovely little brother, the most gorgeous boy in all the world.’
‘No he’s not,’ I sobbed.
Mum frowned at me. ‘Yes he is! For God’s sake, Dixie, you’re ten years old. You’re surely not jealous of your little brother?’
‘But he’s not my real brother, Mum.’
‘Now what are you on about?’ Mum was so indignant her breasts bounced and Sundance came unlatched. ‘Of course he’s your real brother. Like Martine and Jude and Rochelle are your real sisters. Never mind about the dads. I’m your mum. I’m his mum. Simple.’
‘I know, Mum.’
‘You’re driving me bonkers, Dixie! You know what?’ Mum asked, trying to start Sundance feeding again. ‘Come on, little darling, more drinkies. Don’t let your silly sister put you off. We need to build you up, my lad, you’re such a tiny little boy.’
I knelt down beside Mum. ‘He’s not a little boy, Mum. He’s a little girl.’
‘You what?’ said Mum.
‘You heard me, Mum. I know. I’ve seen him. I mean her. Sundance is a girl.’
‘Don’t be so stupid!’ said Mum. ‘Look at him. He’s a boy. Of course he’s a little boy.’
‘I don’t know why you’re saying all this, Mum. Let’s look at Sundance then. We’ll soon see.’
‘Get your hands off him!’ Mum shouted. She held Sundance so tight he got frightened, and started crying.
‘Are you OK in there? Can I get you anything?’ Bruce called outside the door. ‘Dixie, come in the kitchen with Jude and me and leave your mum alone.’
‘In a minute, Uncle Bruce. I’m helping Mum.’
We heard him go back to the kitchen. Mum clutched Sundance, rocking backwards and forwards.
‘You’re a beautiful boy, aren’t you, darling? Stupid stupid Dixie! How could you possibly not be a boy, little Sundance?’