Dustbin Baby Read online

  ‘Oh, no. I – I had a dental appointment near here and so I thought I’d just come and see where I used to live.’

  ‘Isn’t that nice! Well, like I said, I definitely remember you, April.’

  She doesn’t. She really doesn’t. I’ve just been one of dozens of babies through the years and we’ve all merged into one little wailing waif.

  ‘Who are you living with now then?’ Tanya asks. ‘Did this mum of yours come and claim you?’

  ‘No, I got adopted.’

  ‘Hmmm,’ says Tanya, sighing. ‘My little sister’s adopted. It’s easier when you’re little and cute.’

  ‘Do you still get to see her?’

  ‘Nope. Well, not enough. They say it unsettles her. Of course it does. She misses me like crazy. And I miss her.’

  ‘We know it’s really hard on you, Tanya,’ says Pat, putting her arm round her. Tanya shrugs the arm away.

  ‘I’m OK. No need to feel sorry for me. And I’ve got Mandy now. She’s this little kid over the road. She’s like a little sister, sort of. You got any sisters, April? Adopted ones?’

  I shake my head.

  5

  THERE WERE JUST the three of us. They adopted me. Janet and Daniel Johnson. They gave me my name, Johnson. They wanted to give me a new first name too. Danielle, after my new dad. But I wouldn’t answer, wouldn’t even look up, no matter how many times they said it. They told me this as I got older, laughing, but you could tell it still bugged them a bit.

  ‘You were really only a baby too – and a good little girl in most other respects,’ said Mummy.

  ‘You just didn’t want to be a daddy’s girl,’ said Daddy, pulling one of my plaits a little too hard.

  Too right I didn’t. Not his girl. Or hers either, come to that.

  Is that really true? Maybe I loved them then. I still miss her sometimes.

  Tanya is watching me.

  ‘Come up to my room for a bit, April,’ she says. ‘I got these incredible new shoes on Saturday. You’ve got to see them.’

  ‘Yes, that money was supposed to be for school clothes,’ says Pat, stirring the mince a little too vigorously. ‘As if you could ever get away with wearing those heels to school.’

  ‘Well, I haven’t got a school yet, so what’s the point wasting money on boring kid’s stuff?’ says Tanya. ‘Come on, April.’

  She props Ricky on the floor, pops his dummy in his mouth, and prods me upstairs.

  Tanya obviously shares her room with one of the babies. It’s lilac and fluffy, with a lamb mobile and a Little Bo Peep lamp. I wonder if this was ever my room? Did I ever sleep in that battered old cot in the corner?

  Tanya sees me looking and raises her eyebrows.

  ‘Yeah, it’s too gruesome, this dinky room. Wait till I get my own place. I’ve got it all sussed out. I want one of those converted warehouse lofts, all polished wood and white rugs, matt black furniture, kind of minimal chic.’

  ‘It sounds great,’ I say politely, as if it actually exists.

  ‘Yeah,’ says Tanya, sighing. Her eyes meet mine.

  ‘As if!’

  I laugh sympathetically.

  ‘Still, I could get lucky. There’s no chance of me being adopted like my little sister, I’m too old for that lark now, but give me another couple of years and I might meet some rich guy who’ll want to set me up somewhere stylish. Then my sister can come and live with me – or maybe my friend Mandy across the road. We play these games together, her and me. Pretend games. Don’t laugh.’

  ‘I play pretend games too sometimes.’

  ‘So, your new mum and dad? The ones that adopted you? Something tells me it’s not all Happy Families,’ says Tanya.

  ‘You got it. Well, we’re not any kind of family any more,’ I say, leaning against the little cot. I fiddle with the bars, lowering them so I can perch on the edge. I fight a mad desire to scrunch up really small and curl up in the cot myself. I smooth the Thomas the Tank Engine quilt.

  ‘The new mum didn’t dump you in a dustbin too, did she?’ says Tanya.

  ‘No. She was OK, I suppose,’ I say, pleating the quilt. Thomas the Tank Engine is concertinaed up tight.

  ‘Was?’ says Tanya. She’s changed her tone. She perches beside me. ‘Is she dead?’

  ‘Mmm.’

  ‘What, she got cancer or something?’

  ‘No, she . . .’

  ‘I get it,’ Tanya says softly. ‘Yeah, my mum topped herself.’

  Neither of us say anything for a minute. I don’t have to pretend with Tanya. I can really talk to her. But there are some things you can’t ever tell.

  ‘And your dad?’ Tanya says eventually.

  ‘Him!’

  ‘Ah,’ says Tanya. ‘So, who are you with now? You’re not in a Children’s Home, are you?’

  ‘I was for a while. I’ve lived all over. But I’ve got this new foster mother, Marion. She’s OK. But she’s not like a real mum.’ I pause, smoothing the quilt out again. Thomas the Tank Engine looks as if he’s been in a bad train crash.

  ‘Is that why you came to take a deck at Pat?’ Tanya asks.

  ‘I thought – oh, it’s so daft, I was just a baby, but I wondered if I’d remember her. What’s she like, Tanya? She seems . . . nice.’

  ‘She is nice, I suppose. Well, she nags a bit, but then that’s a mumsie thing, isn’t it? She’s good with all the babies. She never gets rattled even when they’re yelling fit to bust, and she never really loses her rag with me – but maybe that’s because she doesn’t really care, like. I’m just this dodgy girl who’s been foisted on her, like a visitor. She does her best to make me feel welcome but when I go she won’t miss me.’

  I don’t suppose she missed me either. I was here eleven months but I wasn’t ever her baby. I was just one of many to be fed and changed and cared for.

  ‘Where are you going then, Tanya?’

  She shrugs. ‘Don’t ask me. This is just a temporary placement till they can find somewhere else.’ She nibbles a nail, looking at me sideways. ‘This Marion – she doesn’t specialize in teenagers, does she?’

  ‘Not really. I think I’m just a special case because she knew me before. But I suppose I could ask her—’

  ‘No, no, I’m OK here for now. And I want to stay pals with Mandy. Like I said, we’re like sisters.’

  ‘Her mum couldn’t foster you?’

  Tanya grins. ‘I don’t think her mum can stick me. I’m a bad influence on her precious little diddums.’

  ‘They said I was a bad influence once.’

  ‘You!’ Tanya cracks up laughing. ‘You’re like Goody Goody Two Shoes.’

  I grin too. ‘That’s all part of the act. Hey, where are your shoes then?’

  ‘Oh, right.’ Tanya shows off the most amazing shiny mock-croc pink high heels.

  ‘Wow! Yeah, just the thing for school!’ I say, as Tanya struts around.

  ‘Can I try them on?’

  ‘Sure.’

  I have a go, stepping out gingerly. I catch sight of myself in the wardrobe mirror and get the giggles.

  ‘It’s not fair. They look great on you but I just look daft.’

  ‘No, you look fine – though try not to let your bum stick out like that. Sway your hips.’

  ‘I haven’t got any hips,’ I say, tottering around.

  ‘Try these on. They’re not quite so high,’ says Tanya, finding me an electric blue pair of wedges. ‘Yeah, they’ve got a strap see, so you can keep them on easier. And look, they go great with this little denim skirt. Try it and see. It’s designer, look.’ She shows off the label.

  ‘Did Pat buy it for you?’

  ‘You’re joking! No, she doesn’t know I’ve got half this stuff.’

  I remember the older kids at Sunnybank and the way they supplemented their wardrobes. ‘Did you nick it?’

  ‘Of course not,’ says Tanya, but then she winks. ‘One or two little bits might just have fallen into my bag, right? You’re not shocked, are you?’