Diamond Girls (16 page)

‘Don't go all moony on me, Dixie! I'm in a bad way, bleeding,' Mum said impatiently.

‘Oh Mum! You've got to go to the hospital!'

‘No, love, it's natural. It happens after you have a baby. I'll be all right.'

‘Uncle Bruce could take you, just to make sure.'

‘No! I'm not going back to that hospital. I'll be fine. I just need a bath. Now, let me lean on you.'

Mum shuffled along, Sundance still clutched tight. Halfway up the stairs Martine heard us and came running.

‘Come on, Mum. I'll help you,' she said, dropping her brush and pail. ‘I've just cleaned the bathroom.'

‘Thanks, darling,' Mum said weakly. She leaned against the wall. ‘Oh God, everything's spinning.'

‘Look, I'll help you into the bath, come on,' said Martine. ‘Dixie, take the baby.'

‘No! No, I must keep him,' said Mum, swaying.

‘Yeah, right, and you're going to drop him on his head any minute, so how daft is that!' said Martine. ‘Dixie, take him!'

I hooked little Sundance out of Mum's arms. She staggered into the bathroom with Martine. I heard them murmuring together, the bath running.

I looked down at my little brother. He was surprisingly heavy for such a tiny baby. He was warm and wriggly … and very very wet. He'd wee'd right through his nappy and his little blue sleeping suit. Even his shawl had started to get soggy.

He started snuffling, mewing softly like a kitten.

‘It's uncomfy, isn't it?' I whispered. ‘I'm going to get you sorted out, little brother.'

I carried him very carefully downstairs, checking every step as I went. I could feel Sundance tensing inside his
shawl
. ‘Don't worry, darling,' I whispered. ‘I'm your big sister Dixie. I'll look after you.'

I carried him into the crowded living room and put him down very gently on Mum's mattress. I spread a towel under him, just in case, and found the pack of nappies and a box of tissues and some baby cream.

‘There!' I said, proud of myself. ‘OK, little boy, we'll soon have you clean and dry and happy.'

I unravelled the shawl carefully, as if I was unwrapping a very special present. Sundance kicked his damp legs happily. I caught hold of his dear little feet.

‘I think you really are going to be a footballer,' I said. I unpopped his sleeping suit and peeled his little legs free.

‘There! That's good, isn't it? Oh, you're so cute,' I crooned. ‘Now, we've just got to get your gungy wet nappy off. Hold still a minute, there's a good boy.'

I tugged the plastic ties undone and cautiously pulled the nappy away from his bottom.

Then I stared.

I looked for Sundance's little willy.

He didn't have one.

He wasn't a baby boy.

He was quite unmistakably a little girl.

11

I DIDN'T KNOW
what to do. I kept blinking at Sundance's little bare bottom, hoping it would rearrange itself in front of my eyes.

Sundance was a boy. Mum had known right from the start. She'd consulted her star charts, read the tarot, dangled rings above her stomach, gazed into her crystal ball. Jude had scoffed – but then Mum went to the hospital for her scan and they confirmed it. She was definitely having a baby boy.

Mum had bought a pair of little blue booties that very day. She'd stuck them on the ends of her fingers and made them dance up and down her tummy. She'd had a little baby boy. She'd
said
so. She'd called him her little son.

Perhaps the hospital had made a terrible mistake and mixed up the babies. Maybe my little brother Sundance had been whisked away by the wrong mother, leaving this dark little changeling girl by mistake.

‘Who are you?' I whispered to the baby.

She didn't know. She kicked her tiny legs, her little feet arching, her toes so weeny, each tipped by the tiniest slither of nail. Her bottom looked very bare indeed as she lay there, flat on her back.

I got her a clean nappy and covered her up with it. I thought about finding her another sleeping suit as the legs were damp, but then Mum would know for sure that I'd undressed her.

I bundled her back into the damp leggings and wrapped the shawl round her. She didn't seem to mind. I looked at the wet nappy, not knowing what to do with it. I couldn't let Mum find it.

I gazed around the crowded room desperately. Rochelle's fancy white dressing table with the little gilt handles was right in front of me. She'd seen it at a car boot sale and nagged Mum rotten until she bought it for her. I opened the top drawer quickly and shoved the sopping nappy inside. Then I picked the baby up and held her against my thudding heart.

I didn't know what to do. I wished Jude hadn't sloped off. I heard Bruce whistling in the kitchen and wondered about telling him, but it seemed too extraordinary, too personal, too strange. I was already starting to wonder if I could possibly have been mistaken. I didn't know much about babies after all. I'd never seen a baby boy naked. Maybe they had very tiny willies at that age and I'd simply not noticed it. I wanted to undress the baby all over again to have another look but I could hear Martine murmuring above my head and I wasn't sure how long they were going to be.

I sat cross-legged on the mattress, holding the baby in my arms. ‘Are you my
sister
?'

She looked at me with her strange blue eyes as if she understood, but couldn't tell me one way or the other. Then Mum and Martine came back, Mum a little pinker now and wearing her rose-red silky nightie and black embroidered kimono, trying to look pretty. Her hair was wet and tied back in a ponytail. She usually looked very young when she tied her hair back – schoolgirly, like our sister instead of our mum. But today she looked like an old lady.

She looked at me anxiously. ‘Is Sundance asleep?'

‘Nearly.'

‘I'll feed him in a little while, get him changed, and then we can both have a nap,' said Mum. ‘Give him here, Dixie. You two girls run along. Thank you, Martine. I feel a new woman now.'

We settled Mum down on the mattress and then went out into the hall together. Martine was shaking.

‘I had to bath her,' she said. ‘She's in such a
state
. Her tummy's all saggy and flabby still. I thought they just snapped back into place. And her boobs are all swollen. They look awful.
She
looks awful.'

‘No she doesn't,' I said, because it seemed so mean to agree.

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.