‘I don’t know why she even spoke to you. You’re nothing to do with our family,’ Martine said furiously.
‘Yeah, well, I’m starting to go down on my knees and count my blessings on that one,’ said Bruce. ‘I don’t know why you’re all turning on me. I’ve gone out of my way to be helpful, and given up a whole day’s work for you – for no financial recompense whatsoever, it seems. I’ve acted like a blooming saint, and yet you’ve all taken advantage of me.’
‘I haven’t, Uncle Bruce,’ I said, taking his hand. ‘Do you want some of my chips? I couldn’t eat them all. They’re a bit cold now but maybe you don’t mind?’
‘Thank you, sweetheart. No, I think I’ll give your chips a miss. One of you big girls could go and make me a nice cup of tea though. I think we could all do with a cuppa while we try and sort out who’s going to look after you.’
‘I’ll look after us. And you can’t have a cup of tea, so there,’ said Jude.
‘She’s not being rude,’ I said quickly (though she was). ‘It’s just the electrics don’t work in the house and so we can’t plug the kettle in. We’ve got candles though. I got them, from my friend’s house. Maybe if we lit them all and held them under the kettle it would start boiling.’
‘It’s your head that needs boiling, Dixie, you’re so stupid,’ said Rochelle.
‘The electrics?’ said Bruce, sighing. ‘Let’s see. Where’s the fuse box?’
‘Don’t look at me. It’s not my house,’ said Martine. ‘As soon as Mum’s back and better, I’m off. This is a total dump. We got a bit lost and couldn’t find Mercury at first, so we’ve been all over the bogging Planets, and they’re all awful. There were some little boys peeing in the street, and some big lads – real thug types – whizzing all over on skateboards.’
‘One damn near went smack into my van. Could have killed himself, but he just laughed!’ said Bruce.
‘Some parts are lovely,’ I told him. ‘Right at the back of our house there’s this lane and some beautiful houses. What sort of house do you live in, Uncle Bruce?’
He wasn’t listening. He was opening up a little cupboard in the hallway and peering into it. He sucked his teeth and then walked down the hall and opened the front door.
‘Don’t go yet!’ I called.
‘I’m just getting my tool box from the van, Dixie,’ he said. ‘But then I’ll have to go, sweetheart. You’d better all be thinking who you’re going to call. Have you got a nan?’
‘She died. She didn’t like us much anyway,’ said Jude.
‘She never even sent us birthday or Christmas presents – imagine!’ said Rochelle, tossing her hair and striking a tragic attitude.
‘My heart bleeds for you,’ said Bruce.
I loved the way he didn’t seem to think much of Rochelle. I followed him out to his van. He found his tool box and lugged it out of the van.
‘Do you think you can fix the electrics, Uncle Bruce?’
‘I’ll have a go,’ he said. He took his big glasses off and gave the lenses a wipe on the bottom of his T-shirt. His face looked younger without them, though they left pink pinch marks on his nose.
‘I used to wear glasses,’ I said. ‘Mum thought I couldn’t see the board properly at school.’
‘So did your eyesight get better?’
‘No, some kid tripped me in the playground and my glasses broke and we didn’t ever get them mended,’ I said.
Bruce was frowning. ‘Does your dad pay maintenance for you, Dixie?’
I shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Maybe your mum could get the social services to pay for new glasses for you?’
‘Oh no, I don’t want them. They called me Goggle-Eyes at school.’
He put his own glasses back on, wincing. ‘Snap! That’s what they called me when I was at school,’ he said.
‘I hate school,’ I said.
‘Maybe this new school will be better?’ he said, going back into the house.
‘Maybe,’ I echoed, though it didn’t seem likely.
I could look out for my new friend Mary in the playground though.
I thought about that slap behind the closed door. I felt sad and wanted Mum.
Then I thought properly about Mum.
What was happening to her now?
‘Don’t look so sad, sweetheart,’ said Bruce. He chucked me awkwardly under the chin. ‘I bet school will be a doddle.’
‘I’m not thinking about school now,’ I said. ‘I’m thinking about Mum.’
‘Well, tell you what,’ said Bruce, as I trotted after him. ‘How about if I phone your dad? Maybe he could come and look after you for a few days?’
I so wanted to believe this could be true. ‘I don’t think so,’ I said mournfully. ‘He’s got his other family.’
‘Yes, well, you’re family too.’
‘But they don’t know about Mum or me, see,’ I mumbled.
‘Ah. Well. Yes, I suppose that does make a difference,’ said Bruce. ‘It doesn’t really let him off the hook though. He’s still responsible. But under the circumstances we’d better not pester him. So, what about the other girls’ dads?’
He started peering at the fuse box, taking stuff out and getting things out of his tool box. Jude came to watch, irritated that he seemed to know what to do.
‘You’d be mental if you got in touch with my dad,’ said Jude, peering. ‘If you even knew where to track him down. Where do they put violent nutters? Broadmoor, maybe?’
‘Oh well, it’s good you don’t take after him,’ said Bruce. ‘Pass us that screwdriver, Judy.’
‘Jude!’ said Jude crossly, but she did as he asked. She held his torch for him so he could see into the gloomy box. He told her what he was doing and why. It was all gobbledegook to me, but Jude nodded, taking it in. Then Bruce flicked a switch inside the box, told me to try the hall light – and it worked!
‘Well done, Uncle Bruce! You’re brilliant!’ I yelled.
‘No, I’m not. Any fool could fix it,’ said Bruce. ‘You can do it if it ever happens again, Jude.’
‘You calling me a fool?’ she said, but she was only joking.
Martine came running from the bathroom, where she’d been washing her face. ‘You’ve really fixed it!’ she said. ‘Does that mean the water will be hot now?’
‘Well, we’ll give it a go. Let’s hope the boiler isn’t bust. I doubt if I can fix that,’ said Bruce. He stepped nearer Martine. ‘Jude here says it’s no use contacting your dad because he’s a bit violent?’
‘My dad isn’t a bit violent – but the last we heard he’s in Australia,’ said Martine.
‘We’ve all got different dads,’ I said.
‘Oh Gawd, your family isn’t half complicated,’ said Bruce, shutting up the fuse box. He nodded at Rochelle, who was rushing round the house switching on every single light.
‘Don’t go too mad, you’ll overload the system again,’ he called. ‘So, Dixie, what about Princess All-too-pleased-with-herself? What’s her dad like?’
‘Dead,’ I said. I paused. ‘That’s how my mum met my dad.’
Bruce raised his eyebrows. ‘She’s a one, your mum!’
I looked at him sideways. Rochelle switched the light on and off, on and off. Jude stood up straight, her chin in the air. Martine ran her fingers through her wild hair, glaring at him.
‘Are you having a go at our mum?’ she said, speaking for all of us.
‘No! No, I was – admiring her, like. For – for getting on with life. I wish I could say the same.’ Bruce blinked anxiously behind his big glasses.
I nodded at him. ‘Tell us about your life, Uncle Bruce.’
‘Nothing much to tell,’ he said.
‘Have you got children?’
‘No, no.’
‘Have you got a partner?’
‘Not at the moment, no. No family to speak of.’
I gave him a great big smile. ‘You could be part of our family, Uncle Bruce,’ I said very quic
kly, before the others could stop me.
‘Well, that’s very very sweet of you, Dixie. I’m touched. But no – I mean, you’ve got your lives to lead, I’ve got mine. Such as it is. Anyway, I must get back. I’ll just check the immersion. Gawd, they don’t half install some rubbish in these council gaffs.’
‘I suppose you live in a bogging palace,’ said Martine.
‘Well, it’s hardly that, but it’s a good solid semi – Victorian. It was my mum and dad’s house, see. I grew up there. I’ve tried to keep everything in good nick. It’s got a fair-sized garden, little rockery, vegetable patch at the end—’
‘Yeah, yeah,’ Martine interrupted.
‘He sounds like an estate agent,’ Jude whispered, too loudly.
Rochelle sniggered and tapped the immersion. ‘Have you got it working? Because I want a bath,’ she said.
‘I’m not the general servant, you know,’ said Bruce, running the kitchen tap. ‘You girls should keep civil tongues in your heads if you want folk to help you. There!’ He put his hand under the tap and lightly sprayed Rochelle. ‘Warm enough for you?’
Bruce straightened up, unrolling the cuffs of his check workshirt. He let the sleeves hang down over his pink hands. ‘Well, I’m off, girls. I reckon you’ll have to cope by yourselves until your mum comes back from the hospital.’
‘We can’t cope, Uncle Bruce. Don’t go!’ I said, rushing to him.
I jumped up and put my arms round his neck. He took one little step backwards, looking startled, but then his arms came round me and he gave me a little hug. He smelled of sandlewood talcum powder and toffees, such a gentle, reassuring smell that I couldn’t help clinging when he tried to unhook my hands.
‘God, stop acting like a baby,’ said Rochelle.
‘Why are you making such a fuss? You hardly know him,’ said Martine.
‘Cut it out, Dixie!’ Even Jude was irritated with me.
I couldn’t help it. I felt like a baby. I couldn’t stop fussing. I couldn’t cut it out.
‘You’ll be OK, little ’un. Oh, there now, don’t cry!’ Bruce reached in his trouser pocket and brought out a very old-fashioned clean white handkerchief, carefully ironed into a square. ‘Here, dear, blow on this.’ He tried to blow my nose for me, without much success.
‘I’ll make it all mucky,’ I said.
‘Never mind, that’s what it’s for. You keep it,’ he said. He looked at Martine. ‘Look, I really have to go.’
‘I know. Go on, then,’ she said.
‘I didn’t mean to get into all this. I was just doing a favour for a pal.’
‘My dad,’ I sniffled.
‘He’s a lucky guy having a lovely little kid like you for his daughter,’ said Bruce. He bit his lip, struggling with something. ‘Tell you what. I’ll go home now. I’ve got to see about the shop and do stuff, but I’ll come back tomorrow. I could come back to your place late morning, say. Then I’ll take you all over to the hospital and your mum will have had the baby by then and you can all meet your little brother. OK?’
‘You bet it’s OK, Uncle Bruce!’ I said.
The other three nodded too. Jude even muttered ‘Thank you.’ Bruce nodded back, waved his hand awkwardly in the air, and then practically ran out of the house.
‘Isn’t he lovely?’ I said.
‘No!’ said Martine.
‘He’s OK, I suppose,’ said Jude.
‘He’s OK if you don’t mind him looking and acting like a total geek,’ said Rochelle. She twitched her nose and stuck her front teeth over her bottom lip, doing a cruel Bruce imitation. Martine and Jude giggled.
‘Well, I think he’s lovely,’ I said. ‘He’s my third favourite grown-up, after Mum and my dad.’
Martine found the kitchen cardboard box and made a pot of tea. We ate a packet of biscuits between us. I felt sad we hadn’t got around to making Bruce anything, especially as he had that long drive back. I decided I’d keep the kettle boiling all Sunday morning so that he could have a cup of tea the moment he got here.
Martine tried phoning the hospital on her mobile but it took ages for her to be put through to the right ward and then they said they could only give information to Mr Diamond.
‘Well, there isn’t one,’ said Martine furiously, and zapped the phone off.
‘Mum is all right though, isn’t she?’ I said. ‘I mean, they’d have said if – if—’
‘Of course Mum’s all right,’ said Martine. ‘Stop being such a worryguts. Everything’s fine.’
She was scared too though. I heard her get up very early in the morning and rush to the toilet. She shut the door, but I heard her being sick. She was shivering when she got back into bed.
‘Are you all right, Martine?’ I whispered.
‘Ssh! You’ll wake the others,’ Martine hissed.
I couldn’t get back to sleep. I don’t think Martine did either. She tried to cuddle Rochelle to get warm, but Rochelle kept tossing and turning, digging into me with her bony elbows, suffocating me with her long curly hair. I cuddled up as close as I could to Jude, Bluebell clutched tight against my chest.
I don’t think I’ve ever wanted Mum so much in all my life.
9
I HEARD A car draw up outside at ten o’clock the next morning.
‘It’s Uncle Bruce! He’s here already!’ I cried joyfully, running to the door. I opened it and stared.
It wasn’t Bruce at all.
It was Mum getting out of a taxi. Our mum, back already, holding a blue blanket bundle in her arms.
I went flying out to her. ‘Mum! Mum! Oh, Mum, you’re all right!’
‘Hey! Careful, Dixie! Watch out, you’ll have me over. Mind the baby!’
Mum was holding the blanket close to her chest. I could just see a little tuft of black hair.
‘Let’s see him, Mum!’
Mum’s face tightened, as if she was still in pain.
‘Mum? What is it?’
‘I’m sore, sweetheart, seeing as I’ve just had a baby,’ she said.
‘That’ll be nine pounds eighty pence please,’ said the cab driver.
‘Gawd, for that piddly drive? I’d have been better off waiting for an ambulance,’ said Mum. ‘Here, Dixie, fish in my bag for my purse and give the guy a tenner. You can keep the change.’
‘Oh, very generous, I’m sure,’ said the cabbie.
I found the money and gave it to him.
‘Thanks, darling,’ said Mum, still hugging the baby close.
I was starting to worry terribly because she wouldn’t show me his face. ‘Is he OK, Mum?’ I whispered, very gently touching the tuft of hair. It felt so soft. I could feel the baby’s warm pink scalp, so small, so delicate.
‘Dixie,’ said Mum, like she was about to say something serious.
I looked up at her, my heart pounding. I decided I was going to love my new little brother no matter what.
‘Did he get born too soon, Mum?’ I asked, patting the blue bundle.
‘Well, maybe I got my calculations wrong, darling. I got a lot of things wrong.’
‘Mum!’ Rochelle came hurtling down the path, screeching her head off.
‘Ssh, Rochelle. He’s asleep. Don’t wake little Sundance. Is that his name still, Mum?’
Mum swallowed. Clutching the baby with one hand, she ran her fingers through her hair, tugging at it. It was as if she was tugging her face too, lighting up her eyes, making her mouth curl up into a big smile.
‘Of course he’s Sundance, darling,’ said Mum. She peeled back a corner of the blanket, showing us our little brother’s face.
‘Oh Mum!’ I said, nearly in tears. ‘Oh Mum, he’s lovely!’
‘He’s so sweet!’ said Rochelle. ‘Look at his little nose and his tiny mouth! Oh, bless him.’
Mum still looked worried, but she rocked baby Sundance proudly. ‘Yeah, bless him,’ she said softly, and she bent and kissed his little tufty head.
Then Jude and Martine came running out the house too, and
everyone circled Mum and kissed little Sundance. We went indoors and Mum sighed at all the furniture still crammed willy nilly in the living room. She collapsed on her mattress, the baby still swaddled in the blanket, clutched tightly in her arms.
‘Was it really awful having him, Mum?’ Martine asked.
‘Well, it was no picnic, darling, put it that way,’ said Mum.
‘What time was he born?’
‘One o’clock this morning.’
‘Are you going to do his star chart, Mum?’ I asked.
Mum had done all of ours, writing our fortunes in fancy italic writing and putting moons and stars all round the borders, and a clock at the top with the exact time of our birth and little pink baby-girl cherubs on either side.
‘His star chart?’ said Mum, looking dazed.
‘Mum, are you all right?’ said Jude, sitting down beside her. ‘How come they let you out of hospital already? I thought you were meant to stay in for twenty-four hours?’
‘Well, I discharged myself. I didn’t fancy staying in there any longer than necessary, not when I needed to get back to you girls. And where’s whatshisface? Did he clear off and leave you all by yourselves?’
‘He’s coming back this morning, Mum, he promised,’ I said.
‘Yeah, to take us to the hospital, but obviously we don’t need him to do that now. Have you got his number, Mum? We’ll put him off,’ said Martine.
‘No! I want to see him!’ I said.
‘Oh God, Dixie, you’re so sad. Imagine getting fond of a geeky old twit like that,’ said Rochelle, sitting the other side of Mum. ‘Can I give him a cuddle, Mum?’
‘No, no, leave him be, lovie. I’m hoping he’ll nod off to sleep,’ said Mum. ‘We need to sweet-talk old Bruce back again, Martine. We’ve got all sorts of baby stuff to get, and I’m not up to running around much at the moment. Plus we’ve got to get all the furniture shifted.’
‘He’s got a bad back, Mum,’ I said.
‘Yeah, so’s every fellow I’ve ever met, when they want to get out of a bit of hard work,’ said Mum. ‘Pathetic, the lot of them. They should try having the babies, that’d teach them. OK, who’s going to make me a nice cup of tea? That hospital cuppa was stewed to death. I need to keep up my liquids if I’m feeding little Sundance.’