‘No!’ I wailed, clinging to him.
‘Stop that nonsense, Dixie, you’re showing me up,’ Mum snapped. ‘You’re just being silly now.’
I looked Mum straight in the eyes. ‘You’re being silly too, Mum,’ I said. I looked over at little Sundance abandoned on the mattress.
Mum looked too. She suddenly shut up. ‘My baby,’ she whispered, and went back to the mattress. She cradled Sundance, kissing the tufty hair.
Martine and Jude and Rochelle shook their heads in disbelief. Mum was usually incapable of shutting up when she went off on one of her rants. She always yelled herself hoarse and then she’d burst into noisy tears and give us all a hug and say she was a bad-tempered old bag and the worst mum in the world and we’d all be better off in care. Then we’d hug her back and tell her she was the best mum in the world and we didn’t want to live with anyone else but her even if she was a bad-tempered old bag.
‘Please please please don’t go, Uncle Bruce,’ I said.
‘I have to go back home, Dixie. I’ve got to be up at crack of dawn to get to the flower market. But don’t worry, dear, I’ll keep in touch, if it’s OK with your mum.’
‘And you’ll still be my uncle?’ I asked.
Bruce glanced at Mum. She was rocking the baby, not bothering with either of us any more.
‘If you want,’ he whispered.
‘I don’t want you to be my soppy old uncle, but I need you to be my Wing Chun instructor,’ said Jude.
‘You’re on,’ said Bruce. ‘Come on then, let’s get some of this blessed furniture upstairs. It looks like it’s just you and me doing the heaving and hauling.’
‘I would help, but I can’t,’ said Martine. Her hands were cupped over her tummy.
‘You got a stomach ache then?’ said Jude.
‘Yeah,’ Martine said quickly.
‘Yeah, me too,’ said Rochelle.
‘Rubbish!’ I said.
‘Fat lot you know about it, Dixie,’ said Rochelle.
‘Well OK, I’ll help,’ I said. ‘I can, I can, I’m much stronger than I look, Uncle Bruce.’ I took off my cardie and flexed my arms to show him.
‘You’ve got muscles like little peanuts, sweetheart,’ said Bruce. He rolled his own sleeves up in a businesslike fashion. He couldn’t help flexing his own muscles proudly. It looked like he had an orange inside each skinny arm.
‘Wow, Mr Body Builder!’ said Jude. ‘That’s not from Wing Chun, is it?’
‘I did use to go down the gym a lot too,’ said Bruce.
‘Get you, Freda Flowershop,’ said Rochelle. ‘Hey, Martine, can I borrow your mobile a sec? I want to text someone.’
‘Not that creep in McDonald’s!’ said Jude.
‘No, you can’t have my mobile, I need it,’ said Martine. ‘What creep?’
‘Get out of the way, all of you,’ said Jude. ‘Why can’t you help, Martine? I know it’s not your time of the month, so don’t use that as an excuse.’
‘Will you just shut up, Jude! I’ve got a stomach bug, if you must know. I feel sick.’
‘Rubbish!’ said Jude.
‘It’s not rubbish, Jude, I heard her being sick this morning,’ I said. I was trying to be helpful but Martine looked horrified.
‘Shut up, Dixie. Can’t you ever keep your mouth shut?’ she hissed.
‘Yeah, she’s the biggest telltale-tit ever,’ said Rochelle.
‘I can keep secrets! I can keep the most amazing secrets, so you two just shut up yourselves. Just you wait till you find out my secret!’
‘Dixie!’ Mum was shouting from the living room. ‘Come in here! I need you. Now!’
‘I’ll help you, Mum,’ said Martine, pushing me out the way.
‘No, Martine, I want Dixie.’
‘Oh, all right, then, suit yourself,’ said Martine huffily, flouncing off.
‘Please lend us your mobile, Martine,’ said Rochelle, running after her. ‘Hey, Jude, do my stuff first, eh? I want to get my room sorted. But be careful, don’t bash it all about. Watch my dressing table, won’t you?’
‘You watch it or we’ll bash you all about, Roxanne,’ said Bruce. ‘Don’t go giving us your orders. We’re not the removal men. We’re doing this as a favour, aren’t we, Jude?’
‘Spot on, Bruce,’ said Jude.
She dragged Rochelle’s bed out of Mum’s room, tipping it on its side. She looked as if she’d like to tip Rochelle right over too.
‘Dixie!’ Mum said urgently. ‘Come in here. Come nearer!’
I squatted beside her on the mattress.
‘Now look, stop hinting stuff! Your sisters aren’t idiots even though they act like it most of the time. You and me have a pact, kiddo. You swore you wouldn’t breathe a word.’
‘Only for a few days, Mum.’
‘A few weeks?’
‘That’s not going to work, Mum. Imagine pushing Sundance down the shops in a buggy and people stopping you and doing all that coo-coo ga-ga Is-it-a-boy-or-a-girl? stuff. You can’t say he’s a little boy and then a few weeks later start putting her in a little pink dress.’
‘I won’t speak to anyone. They’re a load of nutters and no-hopers round here anyway.’ Mum paused. ‘Maybe that’s me. Ms Nutter No-Hope, who can’t provide for her kids or find one single decent guy to be their dad. I knew we couldn’t stay in Bletchworth for all sorts of reasons but why did I ever think this dump was the answer? I’ve just landed us in a worse mess. I got it all wrong – all the charts, the cards, the crystal ball. I got my baby wrong wrong wrong. I so wanted a boy, Dixie. I need my little baby boy. Don’t take him away from me, please, darling. Let me keep him for a bit longer.’
Mum started crying. Sundance started wailing too, threshing sadly in her blue blanket. She smelled as if her nappy needed changing, but Jude and Bruce would be in and out all the time, shifting the furniture upstairs.
‘Let me take Sundance upstairs to the bathroom and I’ll change her— him,’ I said. ‘Don’t cry, Mum. I won’t breathe another word about our secret, I promise. Sundance can stay a boy for a bit if it’ll really make you happy.’
I picked Sundance up and carried her carefully out of the room. Jude and Bruce were halfway up the stairs with Rochelle’s bed. Bruce was sweating, his glasses misting up.
‘You be careful, Uncle Bruce,’ I said anxiously.
‘I’ll be OK – if I take it – slowly,’ he panted.
Jude hauled, Bruce pushed, and they got the bed to the top of the stairs.
‘I want it under the window,’ said Rochelle. ‘No, hang on, maybe it would be better against the wall.’
‘You shove it wherever you want it, Lady Muck,’ said Jude. ‘Come on, Bruce, mate. Are you all right?’
‘Sure,’ said Bruce, though he was leaning against the wall, trying to catch his breath.
‘Leave Rochelle’s stuff. You go and have a sit down, Uncle Bruce. You look done in,’ I said.
He just chuckled at me and walked stiffly downstairs.
I took Sundance into the bathroom and gingerly unpeeled her. She wasn’t just wet. It was far worse than I’d imagined. I didn’t know what to do.
‘Please hurry up and get toilet trained,’ I said to my little sister, rolling my cardie sleeves right up.
I tore off a wad of loo roll, seized her by the ankles and started dabbing at her. I dabbed and dabbed and dabbed. I wondered if it would be better to give her a bath. I didn’t know how you bathed a baby. She was so little. I was scared I might drop her if she was all slippery with soap. Her head was too wobbly and she wriggled too much.
I managed the best I could, and then squidged the dirty nappy into a plastic carrier bag.
‘There now, little Sundance. All clean and dry. Try to stay that way, eh? You’re a lovely little baby but I wish you didn’t have a bottom.’
It would be so easy if Sundance was like a little doll with smooth plastic instead of rude bits. Then she’d never need to be changed and no one would ever find out she was
a little girl. Mum could play she was her special boy and no one would know any different. If no one had bottoms we could choose which sex we wanted to be all the time we were growing up. I could have been a boy, then I could always be Mum’s favourite. Jude would be a boy too, even though she didn’t seem to like them. Rochelle loved boys but I couldn’t imagine her as anything else but the girliest girl. Martine was very girly too, even when she dressed up in Tony’s big T-shirts or his black leather jacket.
I heard Jude and Bruce struggling back up the stairs. I picked Sundance up and took her to watch from the landing. They were hauling Rochelle’s unwieldy dressing table, both of them cursing as the drawers rattled and slid about.
‘We should have taken the drawers out first,’ Bruce gasped. ‘I’m not thinking straight. Here, if we prop it against the wall can you balance it for a moment? Then I can edge up beside you and deal with the drawers.’
‘What’s she got in here? Something stinks!’ said Jude.
As if in answer, the bottom drawer shot out. Sundance’s first dirty nappy flew threw the air. It landed on poor Bruce’s head.
He dodged sideways, shaking his head, still trying to hang onto the dressing table. Then he yelled. It was a horrible, high-pitched scream.
‘Uncle Bruce!’ I went hurtling down the stairs, clutching Sundance to my chest.
‘Here, Bruce, I’ve got the poxy dressing table safe,’ said Jude, heaving it away from him.
Bruce crouched on the stairs, back bent over.
‘Uncle Bruce, are you all right?’ I called.
‘You can straighten up now, Bruce,’ said Jude.
Bruce wasn’t all right. He couldn’t straighten up.
‘I’ve done my back in,’ he groaned.
‘Was that my dressing table? Watch it, Jude, don’t budge it against the wall like that, it’ll get scratched,’ Rochelle shouted.
She shut up when she got to the stairs and saw Bruce.
‘Did someone fall?’ Martine called, coming to check.
‘Oh my God! Sundance? Dixie, have you dropped him?’ Mum yelled. She came rushing out into the hall, her long black hair flying. Her big bosoms were nearly flopping right out of her nightie as she ran.
‘Sundance is fine, Mum. I’ve got him. It’s Uncle Bruce. He’s hurt himself – and it’s all my fault!’ I said, starting to cry.
‘Not – your fault – Dixie,’ Bruce mumbled, still bent double.
‘It was, it was! I stuffed the nappy in Rochelle’s dressing table.’
‘You did what?’ said Rochelle. ‘How could you, Dixie! How totally disgustingly mean of you!’
‘Shut up, Rochelle, and help me get your bogging dressing table upstairs before I drop it,’ said Jude.
‘Are you all right, Bruce, mate?’ said Mum. ‘Maybe you’d better take it easy now.’
Bruce tried to shake his head totally free of the horrible nappy. He screamed again. ‘Don’t think – I’ve got – much choice,’ he gasped. ‘Can’t move!’
‘What? Of course you can move,’ said Mum. ‘Here, we’ll get you up again. Martine, squeeze past Jude and Rochelle and help haul him up.’
‘I can’t haul,’ said Martine.
‘I will, I will! Take my hand, Uncle Bruce.’ I flipped the last bit of nappy from his hair and held both his hands. ‘Try now.’
‘OK, little ’un. Give me a second – to get my breath. Then we’ll see – if you can get – silly old uncle – back on his feet.’
I waited. We all waited. Bruce strained until the sweat stood out on his forehead but he couldn’t stand up. He could barely move.
Jude and Martine sat on the steps above him. Mum and I paced below him in the hall. Rochelle clattered about upstairs, dragging her furniture around in her room.
‘Can’t you come and help me, Jude? I’ve decided to have my bed over here.’
‘Bog off, Rochelle. If you’d only lent a hand getting your stuff upstairs poor Bruce wouldn’t be crippled up right this minute,’ said Jude.
‘Don’t say crippled, it sounds too bloody permanent,’ Mum said. She walked over to Bruce. ‘What are we going to do with you, mate? Are you going to stay stuck here on the stairs for ever like a blooming carpet?’
‘It’s not – by choice,’ Bruce mumbled.
‘Come on then, stir yourself,’ said Mum. ‘Help me pull him, girls.’
‘Don’t, Mum, you’ll hurt him.’
‘Dixie, he can’t stay here for ever. Right, Bruce, get a grip.’
We shoved, Bruce screamed. We hauled, Bruce hollered. We couldn’t get him upright, but we did get him halfway there, his bottom in the air. Very very slowly, he managed to clamber down like a toddler. When he got to the hallway at long last he stayed in a crouch.
‘Straighten up,’ said Mum.
‘I would if I could. I can’t!’ said Bruce.
‘Oh Gawd, what are we going to do with you now?’ said Mum.
‘Should we get a doctor?’ I said.
‘We don’t want any doctors snooping round here,’ Mum said quickly. ‘Anyway, we haven’t got a doctor. I doubt anyone decent would dare come out to the Planet Estate. All the druggies would be after them.’
‘I don’t – need doctor,’ said Bruce, teeth gritted. ‘They can’t – do anything. Just need – to rest – flat on back – till it’s better.’
‘How, long will that take then?’ said Mum. ‘A couple of hours?’
‘A couple – of days – sometimes longer,’ Bruce gasped.
‘Oh! Well, looks like we’ve got an overnight guest, girls,’ said Mum.
‘No! No, I can’t! Got to get home – sort the shop. If I can – make it to my van.’
Bruce tried his best but he couldn’t even hobble as far as the front door. He jarred his back so badly that tears started trickling down his cheeks.
‘Oh, poor Uncle Bruce. Look, you need to lie down now,’ I said, steering him into the living room.
‘Not in there, Dixie! That’s my room now,’ said Mum.
‘It’s the only room,’ said Jude. ‘He’ll have to go in there, Mum.’
We pulled and prodded him in and out the furniture and then very gently pushed him down onto the big mattress.
‘No! No, that’s my mattress!’ Mum protested. ‘You can’t settle down there! Get off it, Bruce.’
But Bruce was on it now, lying flat on his back like a dead man, trying not to move a muscle.
‘Oh, thanks very much, mate!’ said Mum.
‘I did warn you – about my back,’ Bruce whispered.
‘OK, OK. I’m sorry,’ said Mum. ‘Well, as you’ve commandeered my mattress I suppose my boy and I will have to relocate upstairs.’
Mum summoned Jude and Martine and Rochelle and told them to take her stuff up to the bedroom.
‘Look, Mum, I’ve done my fair share of lifting. My back hurts too,’ said Jude.
‘I told you, Mum, I can’t lift things, I truly can’t,’ said Martine.
‘I’m going out anyway,’ said Rochelle.
‘Oh no you’re not,’ said Mum. ‘Well, thanks a bunch, girls. You’re a dead helpful lot. Well, to hell with you. I need a bed if Bruce here is going to be stuck on mine. Rochelle’s is upstairs already so I’ll take that.’
‘You can’t, Mum! Where will I sleep?’
‘You’ll have to share with Martine.’
‘That’s not fair, Mum. I can’t squash up with her. Let Dixie share, she’s the littlest. Look, please please please let me go out, just for a bit. I want to see Ryan and explain that my sisters are idiots.’
‘You’re the idiot, having anything to do with that creep,’ said Jude.
There was a big argument between Mum and Rochelle and Jude and Martine. I went and sat next to Bruce on the mattress, Sundance in my arms. Bruce had his eyes shut.
‘Have you gone to sleep, Uncle Bruce?’ I whispered.
‘Chance would be a fine thing, with my back giving me merry hell and all that argy-bargy going on in the hal
l. Do they go on like this all the time, Dixie?’
‘Yep.’
‘It’s driving me bonkers. Doesn’t it get on your nerves?’
‘I pretend stuff, like I have my own planet and Bluebell and I live there all by ourselves. You can come visiting on Planet Dixie if you like.’
‘That’s very nice of you,’ said Bruce. He tried to look up at me and whimpered in pain.
Sundance was whimpering too, her little feet tangled up in her shawl.
‘Here, darling, let’s set you free,’ I said, unwrapping her. I tickled her tummy and she waved her arms and legs around in her little blue sleeping suit. ‘Hey, look, Sundance can whiz off to Planet Dixie too – she’s already wearing a little baby spacesuit.’
‘She?’ said Bruce.
‘I mean he,’ I said, blushing.
‘I’m like a blooming great baby now,’ said Bruce, sighing.
I did wonder what on earth he was going to do about going to the loo. I thought hard about milk bottles and vases, though I knew Bruce would find this horribly embarrassing.
He solved the problem by rolling off the mattress and creeping, doubled over, to the downstairs toilet. He couldn’t manage to straighten up at all, and he couldn’t bear to sit either. He had to eat lying flat on his back, taking very tiny mouthfuls so he wouldn’t choke. I tucked tissues all round his neck and found him a straw when he tried to drink his tea.
‘You’re a grand little nurse, Dixie,’ said Bruce.
‘Yeah, I’m good at it, aren’t I!’ I said, pleased with myself.
I was still number one nursemaid to Sundance. Mum got settled into Rochelle’s bed upstairs but Sundance didn’t seem to like the change of scenery and yelled.
‘I’ll see if I can calm him down,’ I said grandly, going upstairs. ‘Shall I take him, Mum?’
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