Diamond Girls Read online

  ‘Take the nappy off, Mum.’

  ‘You leave him be!’

  ‘Look, Mum!’ I said, scrabbling at Sundance’s legs, trying to get hold of the nappy.

  ‘Stop that! I don’t want to look. I won’t!’ said Mum.

  ‘Don’t be mad, Mum. You can’t pretend Sundance is a boy!’

  ‘I can!’

  ‘But what are you going to do – hide her bum from everyone for ever? That’s just crazy. What about the baby clinic? Are you going to dress her in boys’ clothes all the time? What about when she starts nursery? They’ll take her to the boys’ toilets in her little trousers and then what’s she going to do? She won’t be able to wee standing up.’

  ‘All right, all right, give it a rest, Dixie. I know I can’t keep her a boy for ever. I just want a few days, that’s all. That’s not too much to ask, is it? I wanted a boy so much. Every single symbol and sign showed I was having a boy – it was in all the charts, all the readings. I was so sure. I wouldn’t ever swap you girls, I love you to bits, but you know how much I’ve always wanted a boy.’

  ‘What about the scan, Mum? You said they told you the baby was a boy.’

  ‘They did, they did. Well. I was sure they would have done. I so needed the baby to be a boy I didn’t want them to cast any doubts. They’re all such know-alls at these hospitals. That’s why I came home just now, as soon as I could nip out without them noticing. I didn’t want them telling me what to do, talking about my little girl, my baby daughter. I’ve got my daughters. I want a son!’ She cradled Sundance, her hand cupped round her small head.

  ‘She’s not a son.’

  ‘Let me pretend for a bit, Dixie. Just for a little while, to make me happy. I can’t bear it that I got it all wrong. You’re my daydream pretender girl. You know what it’s like. Not like the others. Don’t tell your sisters!’

  ‘But—’

  ‘You can’t tell them, Dixie. They’ll think I’ve gone nuts.’

  ‘I think you’ve gone nuts.’

  ‘Martine’s upset enough as it is, going on about her blooming Tony. Jude’s even stroppier than usual. Rochelle’s acting extra flighty. They can’t handle this the way you and I can. Just give me a few days, Dixie. Please. Don’t tell on me.’

  ‘All right then, Mum. I won’t tell.’

  Mum burst into tears. ‘Oh darling. Thank you. Thank you so much. You promise, now?’

  I found Bruce’s hankie and mopped Mum’s eyes. ‘I promise,’ I said. ‘But it’s just for a little bit. We’ll have to tell quite soon. But you can pretend for now if it makes you happy.’

  ‘You’re such a good girl to me, Dixie,’ Mum said, eyes brimming again. She held Sundance up and made the baby’s soft cheek brush mine.

  ‘He’s giving you a kiss. He loves you so much already,’ Mum whispered. ‘You’re his favourite big sister.’

  12

  MUM STAYED STUCK on her mattress with Sundance, as if they were marooned on a desert island. Martine and Jude and Rochelle came visiting but she sent them away, saying she was tired and wanted to rest. She didn’t notice Martine had been crying. She didn’t notice Jude had a sore nose. She didn’t even notice Rochelle was all dressed up in her best (damp) jeans and silver sparkly top.

  I was the only one Mum wanted. She let me make her a cup of tea, she let me help her to the loo, she let me fetch Sundance’s clean nappies. She even let me stay while she changed her, though she kept her back to me, bending over Sundance, blocking her blatant little-girl bottom from my view.

  ‘I’ll give him a little feed now,’ said Mum. ‘You go off and play for a bit, Dixie. You’ve been such a good girl.’

  I felt too grown up and important to play. It was so lovely to feel I was the chosen one, Mum’s favourite. Sundance liked me too. I was good with babies. Maybe I’d be a nursery nurse when I was grown up. No, I’d have my own nursery, and all the babies would have little white rocking cots with red and green and yellow and purple blankets so no one would know whether they were boys or girls. They’d have mobiles hanging above each cot, little birds flying round and round, and the babies would reach up with their little fat fists to try to catch them.

  I’d feed them and change them and they’d all have a bath together in a special big shallow baby bath and then I’d cuddle them all in a huge white towel and tickle their tummies and play piggies with their tiny toes. I’d be Nurse Dixie and every single baby would love me and stop crying the minute I picked them up.

  I thought about Mary. I wanted to stop her crying too. She didn’t know how to play properly and have fun. She seemed worried about spoiling that scary baby doll. I thought about my old Barbies. They’d nearly all torn their clothes and they had skinhead haircuts and permanent gel pen tattoos. Maybe Mary could have a good game with them. It wouldn’t matter in the slightest if they got spoilt.

  I rummaged in my box and seized a handful of them. Rochelle was in the kitchen, trying to brush her red suede shoes.

  ‘Got fed up playing real babies?’ she said. ‘Now we’re back to normal and little braindead Dixie’s playing dollies.’

  ‘I’m not going to be playing with them,’ I said haughtily. ‘I thought my friend Mary might like them. I’m going to show her how to play.’

  ‘Who do you think you are, Mary blooming Poppins?’ said Rochelle. ‘And actually, they’re not your Barbies, they’re mine, and you haven’t half ruined them! What’s happened to their hair? Have you cut it all off?’

  ‘You shut up, or I’ll cut your hair off,’ I said, and then I rushed out the back door quick before she could get me.

  I hitched myself up on the wall, the Barbies clutched in one hand like a weird bouquet. Mary wasn’t on the swing. The baby doll wasn’t there in its buggy. The garden was empty.

  I sat on the wall, swinging my legs. I waited. Then I got fed up with waiting. I decided it would be fun to arrange the Barbies in a little circle just inside Mary’s gate, with their right arms all raised as if they were waving to her. She’d have a little laugh when she found them.

  I jumped over my wall, crossed the alley, carefully opened the stiff latch and crept inside. I squatted down by the gate and propped each Barbie up against it, their hands up. They looked much dirtier in Mary’s garden, their haircuts more brutal. I’d tipped all their breasts with red felt pen and now I wished I hadn’t. I licked my finger and tried rubbing their chests hard to get it off.

  ‘What are you up to, eh?’

  I was so startled I fell backwards on my bottom. I looked up, scarlet in the face. A man was staring down at me. He had huge scary scissors in his hand. I gave a little squeal.

  ‘Hey, hey, it’s all right. Don’t be frightened!’ He saw me looking at the awful scissors and dropped them on the grass. ‘It’s all right, they’re just my pruning shears. My little girl doesn’t like them either.’

  ‘You’re Mary’s dad?’ I said.

  ‘You know my Mary?’

  I nodded, but I didn’t say she was my friend. I didn’t want to get her into trouble. But he was smiling at me now. He bent down and helped pull me up. The Barbies trembled and then fainted simultaneously.

  ‘Are these your dollies? Why were you putting them in my garden? What are they, Pretty Maids all in a row?’

  ‘I thought Mary might like to play with them,’ I whispered.

  ‘What a nice thought,’ he said, though he looked at the Barbies a bit doubtfully.

  ‘Can I see her?’

  ‘Well, I think she’s finishing her tea right now,’ he said. ‘She’s a bit of a picky eater, our Mary. She’s in trouble with her mum for not eating her crusts. Do you eat your crusts?’

  I nodded, though I was fibbing.

  He took a deep breath. ‘Well, why don’t you come in and show Mary a good example, eh?’

  I gathered up the swooning Barbies and trotted along beside him, up the green striped lawn to the patio. He paused at their back door.

  ‘Wipe your feet, dear. My wife’s a bit pa