“No we aren’t,” said Andy.
“You so are!”
“Go away,” said Kitty, who looked bored to tears.
“You don’t say go away,” corrected Jade. “It’s ged out. Never! No she didden, ged out!”
“I meaned go away,” Kitty grumbled. “Go away, stowaway!”
“That’s not a nice thing to say,” said Mum.
“Jade is not a nice person,” said Kitty.
“She’s supposed to be your friend…” Zak reminded her, in pure wind-up mode.
Kitty huffed to herself.
Harry returned with the first of the ice creams, and went back for seconds.
“One of you should really have helped with those,” tutted Mum, although Harry didn’t seem to mind.
“Soleros for Harley and Andy, a Twister for Kitty, and a big Mr Whippy for Lemmy,” Harry joked, dabbing our baby brother on the nose with his own freezing ice cream.
Mum giggled. “Honey, babies can’t have-”
“I know. It’s ours really,” said Harry, licking it appreciatively. He stopped and held the cone out for Mum to share.
Charlie raced over, leaving Devon on the bench. “Where’s mine?”
“You weren’t here when we decided,” said Harry. “You’ll have to get your own.”
“But-”
“Devon has lots of holiday money,” said Mum. “Go and ask politely.”
Andy and I fell about laughing as he sidled off.
It wasn’t long before we’d finished our ices, and Harry declared it time to head back to the pool. Andy shot out of his seat, still holding my hand, forcing me to come with. He swung our arms merrily as we walked.
“But he bought one for Cousin It!” complained Charlie, to Devon.
“He’s family so everyone has to be nice to him.”
“But he didn’t buy one for me.”
“I offered,” Devon grumped. “You could’ve had an ice-cream, and instead you’re having a moan! That’s not fair on anyone.”
Andy swung our arms harder.
“Watch it!” I protested. “You’ll tear my arm out of its socket.”
“I’m just so happy that we’re happier than that!”
Were we? Sure, we didn’t bicker, but we didn’t get carried away on a pink, fluffy cloud of scrumminess every time we touched. Our kisses were not electric. They had passion, and we just had plain old ordinary getting along, like Mum and Harry.
On the other side of the changing rooms, the mood had soured further. Jade still refused to wear her armbands, Kitty refused to wipe the red Twister centre from her lips because it made her look “pretty”, and Charlie refused to let the ice-cream situation go.
Devon slid over and linked arms with me instead. “Buddy old pal?” she said, in a silly voice.
Charlie scowled.
“Lesbians!” shouted Jade, loudly and specifically.
Kitty looked almost too haggard to swim. She gave the best defence that she could think of. “Well, you were doing a poo!”
“Girls don’t poo!”
“Then you’re not a girl,” sniffed Kitty.
Ryan yawned exaggeratedly. “Come on. Last one to the big slide is a rotten ovule!”
He, Zak and the cousin made to charge away. Jade leapt out of their trajectory, and slipped on the wet poolside with a yelp of terror.
Harry saw, but the cousin was quicker. He cannonballed in and helped her upright, even though like any sane person he obviously found her insanely annoying. “Not so bad after all, eh?”
Jade was breathless.
“Eh?” he prompted.
“A?” she managed in return.
It looked revoltingly like Jade Tinnitus, Girl of Many Nicknames, had a crush on a boy who for all we knew had a blank birth certificate at home. Or worse, might actually have been called Nobby.
#17 The Cliffhanger
Harry turned out to be one of those people who leaves mobile phones on Loud at the cinema. Jade’s whining had finally won out, and on Wednesday we were treated to an afternoon showing of The Simpsons Movie. Cliff and the cousin had tagged along for lack of better things to do, despite that we weren’t exactly getting in any quality family time in a darkened room where no one was allowed to talk.
“I really should take this,” Harry hissed to Mum. “It’s Ben.”
I was frozen. If it was Ben, it could only mean one (admittedly general but definitely horrible) thing: there was a problem. Harry had given him his mobile number with strict instructions to call if anything went wrong. If there was a problem, it probably involved Aimee. Maybe six months ago I’d had little care in my heart for the girl, but given her advanced pregnancy and relative palliness…
“It’s Ben,” I heard Devon pass on to Charlie, who passed it down the line. “I’m gonna be an auntie!”
“I’m gonna be an uncle…” said Charlie, quietly. “Wait… you’re the baby’s dad’s sister, and I’m the baby’s mum’s stepbrother… so…”
“Adopted sister,” she snapped. “It’s not gross.”
“How haven’t you thought about this before, Charlie?” I teased, enjoying the strain it was putting on their relationship.
“Watch the movie,” said the cousin, who seemed less than happy to have Jade to one side of him.
“Lemmy needs changing,” said Mum, blatantly looking for an excuse to join Harry out in the foyer.
“Lemmy’s with Auntie Freesia,” I pointed out.
“And I should be with Aimee,” she replied, guiltily, fleeing the aisle.
The movie wound on, but I wasn’t taking it in. Mum and Harry did not come back. Nobody said anything until the credits.
“Verdict?” asked Clifford, cheerfully.
“Great!” said the cousin.
“Yeah,” said Zak and Ryan.
“It sucked,” said Jade.
“But it was your idea,” said the cousin.
“Well it sucked.”
I didn’t know if it had sucked or not, and when I looked at Charlie and Devon they seemed to feel the same. We filed out of the theatre and were dazzled by the daylight. Mum and Harry had waited outside on a bench. Mum looked dizzy and Harry had his head in his hands.
“What happened?!” I squeaked, fearfully.
“Aimee’s gone into labour and Ben was in a panic because the ambulance hadn’t come yet. We had to explain how long it really takes to have a baby.”
Devon giggled. “Silly Ben. I bet he thought he’d have to deliver.”
Charlie and Zak looked sick.
“How long does it take to have a baby?” asked Kitty. “Mine popped out of my jumper in ten seconds flat, and you said that was right, Harley!”
“It can take hours and hours,” said Mum. “But don’t worry about that.”
She looked worried.
“Are you taking off, then?” asked Cliff. “Not that I’m saying I want you to go.”
(He blatantly was.)
“Our flight’s first thing tomorrow,” said Harry. “We’ll just have to sit tight and see what happens.”
We did sit tight. All the way back to the hotel in the veritable minibus, all the way through dinner in the hotel restaurant, and all the way through the really old-person evening entertainment. No one had any imagination left for exciting attractions, or beach walks or quarrelling. And then when it was bedtime, no one could sleep.
I could hear Kitty nagging at Mum and Harry through the wall: “Is the baby out yet?” Jade was the only person still niggling over petty hotel things, and Lemmy was on the grizzle.
I could hear Zak and Ryan verbally brainstorming a welcome-to-the-world rap song through the other. (Yes, really. They’d announced their intentions during the Oldies Disco.) I couldn’t hear Charlie and Andy, and for that I was grateful. In their own special ways, they’d both managed to annoy me and Devon.
“Dev,” I said in my best Charlie voice. “Why did you shave your head?”
She failed to notice my impersonation a
nd took the question seriously. “Have you seen the state of Libby’s hair? It’s put me off curls!”
Or so I thought…
“Not really. My mum’s got cancer.”
“You going bald won’t help. You didn’t even wait to do a charity collection, which makes you as bad as Charlie,” I pointed out.
“That’s not the point. I’ve come over all… Buddhist from the stress. I don’t think I’m ready to give up all things material just yet, but my hair is a sort of… badge of intent.”
She didn’t seem one bit unhappy. Well oh well…
“And anyway, wait ’til we see Keish and Chan’s faces!”
#18 Generation Why
There was a lot of slumping boredly at the airport. Our plane wasn’t for another hour, and we’d already been there longer than that. Cliff and the cousin were still with us, which was handy because Harry didn’t have even one penny to spare for the fountain, despite being in a proper time of need. The baby had still not come.
Charlie seemed surprisingly calm, given the flying, the suspense, and Jade. Devon was talking more to me than him, and Andy was mucking about with Ryan and Zak. Beside me sat the cousin, and on his other side was you-know-who.
“You’re my hero!” said Jade, for the millionth time, beaming up at the cousin.
“Thanks,” he muttered. He’d already tried buying another round of Cokes s-l-o-o-o-w-l-y, disappearing for a twenty minute pee, and wandering off to un-numb his bum “alone”.
“You’re welcome!” she gushed, almost Britishly. Had America fallen out of her favour?
He rolled his eyes at me.
To be honest, the uncertainty was killing me. Over the last couple of months, me and Aims had got a lot closer, and I didn’t like to think of her having a baby at fifteen without her dad or anyone around. Maybe Ben was great at keeping her calm and realistic, but he was a seventeen-year-old boy, and had after all managed to get her pregnant.
Harry seemed fidgety. He kept whipping his phone out as if he could possibly have missed a call, firing off texts in Ben’s direction, and probably annoying the poor daddy-to-be. “No baby yet,” he sighed.
“When is a baby not a baby?” joked Zak, without tact. “When it’s a Chestburster!”
“Zak, stop drinking so much Coke,” Mum warned.
“I’m not Charlie!” he blurted, sugar-high.
“That’s why I said ‘Zak’,” said Mum, humourlessly.
“Do as your mother says!” snapped Harry, grabbing the can for himself. I knew that Harry didn’t like Coke, but he could definitely tolerate it more easily than he could stand wasting money.
“Now, does anyone need the loo?” asked Mum.
“I think you’re more gorgeous than Zac Efron!” Jade surged at the cousin.
He grimaced, obviously tempted to take up Mum’s suggestion of a trip to the toilet and not come back. He fiddled with his necklace, and I caught myself staring at it. I wasn’t used to seeing boys who wore necklaces. It was a thick gold chain one, and I when I paid close attention I realised that at the very front it read Harley in chunky, blocky, blingy letters.
Um, why?
Because I’d just remembered why I could never remember to remember my cousin’s name – I must’ve figured years ago that I wouldn’t need to, ’cause a) we’d met just the once when we were tiny, b) no one ever talked about him, and c) … well, C), it was the same as mine by a freaky, tweaky fluke.
Cousin Harley.
You’d never even called me that, so referring to him that way didn’t seem so weird. What was weird was the circumstance. I’d paid at least enough attention to know that Mum and the Jersey fam hadn’t spoken right from when she moved to the mainland until Nana’s wedding when me and you and Charlie and the cousin and Zak were all incredibly evident. It was a complete and total coincidence, and, I had to admit, suitable for both of us.
I wondered what Aimee and Ben would pick. For all I knew, they hadn’t talked about it.
“Devon…” I muttered across the table. “Do you know what names Ben and Aimee were thinking of for the baby?”
“Yep!” She grinned. Baby names were her obvious favourite subject. “It was Chloe or Louisa for a girl. Jody or Connor for a boy.”
“Jody for a boy?” asked Cliff.
“Oh, you can talk,” said Mum, tetchily.
“But Harley’s a boy’s name!”
“It’s not even a normal name. It’s a surname or a shortening,” said Devon.
“It’s still a name!” argued Clifford. “You stole my son’s name for a nickname! She was never Harley before we met up!”
Mum gave him a cold stare. “And how would you know?”
“Who was ignoring who again?!”
“I think you should leave,” said Harry.
“On your bike!” snapped Mum.
“Fine by me!” Clifford rose and beckoned Cousin Harley. “I’ll tell you what’s really not a name!” he shouted as they walked away. “Cha-zeeah!!”
I didn’t think I’d ever be seeing them again. I didn’t have time to decide how I felt about that, because Harry’s state-of-the-fart mobile trilled loudly. He jumped on the text like a cat pouncing prey. “Aimee’s had the baby!” he announced. “Another little boy, Joshua.”
“They told us by text,” muttered Mum, who was probably at the height of her disillusionment about the idea of family.
“It’s Generation Y, isn’t it?” chuckled Harry, happily, as another text tunnelled through. He held out the phone for the rest of us to see a picture message. Those cost tonnes, didn’t they? Sure enough, a tiny pink baby all swaddled in blankets.
The next however long flew. Before I knew it I was going up the steps onto the plane, head already in the clouds because I’d finally figured it out. Me and Andy were better off because we actually cared about other things than just our relationship. We sat together again, and cuddled when we felt like it, and didn’t when we didn’t, and we did the thing with the mint.
That was really weird. I wouldn’t suggest you suggest it to whichever beach-bum Cory you’re dating, ’cause I’m still not certain whether it was weird and wonderful or weird and wrong.
Zak threw up over his Beano (for unrelated reasons), and Mum figured out that it was actually one of Cousin Harl’s weird anime comics, so now he’s grounded. Jade, surprisingly, didn’t go over the top with her “ew!”ing and nodded off, as did Charlie. Me and Andy talked about the coming year of school, and more importantly, the coming few weeks of freedom from it – really anything other than the more imminent issue of the Great Aussie Return.
But that’s my problem; Andy’s too blissed to be pissed. And I’m still mega-mega-mega-thrilled to be one of the reasons for that. (Sorry!)
P.S. Obviously I live with Joshua, and Joshua is cute. He and Lemmy haven’t given each other the time of day so far, but what do you expect? They’re babies. It won’t be long before they’re crawling and exploring and forming some messed-up little bond to ensure that when they turn fourteen, they’ll actually feel guilty for dating each other’s crushes. (Oops. Sidetracked.)
P.P.S. I might be a bitch.
T.T.F.N. Harley & Co – (“Co” being “sofa crammed with two teenagers, one eleven-year-old, one nearly-eight-year-old and two drooling babies”).
The next book in the recommended reading order is: The Fizzy-Blood Feeling
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https://www.dilliedorian.co.uk
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About The Author:
Dillie Dorian is an English author of child and YA realistic fiction. She is notable for offering all fourteen titles in her debut series, A Bended Family, for free online.
Dillie has been “writing” since a very young age, and her mother probably still hoards innumerable sellotape-bound “sequels” to everything from An
imal Ark to The Worst Witch.
Her first serious project began in September 2006, with “Oops! Did I Forget I Don’t Know You?”, which sparked countless official sequels of its own within months. Working on this series between the ages of thirteen and fourteen taught her everything she knows about writing, and she hasn’t stopped expanding on the Hartleys’ lives since!
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