Dustbin Baby Read Online Free PDF Page B

of her in my head, big and soft and smelling of toast and fresh ironing. I wish she’d pick me up in her arms now. OK, it’s crazy. But I want her so.
    I’m going to try to see her. I’ve got her address from the file. She’s probably moved away ages ago but I still want to see the house. It might feel familiar. And if she
is
still there I might recognize her.
    I know I shouldn’t just take off on my own. I should discuss it properly with Marion. But I don’t want to tell her anything. She’d want to take me herself. I don’t want to go with her. I want to do it by myself.
    It’s weird. I haven’t really gone anywhere by myself before. Well, I nip down to the corner shops to get the paper for Marion, and I’ve been trusted to buy a sliced wholemeal loaf and a jar of Gold Blend, and I sometimes choose a video – but that’s as far as I go, apart from school.
    I mooch around the shops with Cathy and Hannah some Saturdays and we go to films together and we went to the under-eighteens’ night at the Glitzy once (total disaster – some girls thought Hannah’s way of dancing pretty wacky and laughed at her, some other girls thought Cathy was eyeing up one of their boyfriends and threatened her, and one of the bouncers inside refused to believe I was fourteen – well, I was
nearly
– and asked us all to go). Even then we didn’t go home by ourselves; Cathy’s dad came and collected us and got dead worried when he discovered all
three
of us in tears.
    I’m not really used to sorting out trains and stuff. Still, Mrs Williams lives in Weston and that’s only a few stops on the train. No problem.

4

    NO PROBLEM INDEED! Weston is
huge
and I don’t have a map. I ask about twenty different people if they know the road. I get sent right out of the town, then I’m told that’s all wrong and get sent back again. I’m directed down leafy streets near the river with big posh houses and I start to think I started my life in suburban splendour, but I end up in an Avenue rather than a Road and realize this isn’t it either. Eventually I trudge all the way back to the railway station and take a taxi. I’ve got a few pounds in coins and a five-pound note in my school bag. I’m only in the taxi a few minutes but the fare comes to £2.80. I offer the driver three pounds, thinking that will be fine, but he says something dead sarcastic about the generosity of my tip. I end up apologizing and give him the five-pound note instead . He asks if I want any change. I
do
, but I don’t dare say yes, so he just drives off, leaving me feeling flushed and foolish.
    A girl with bright orange spiky hair is sitting on the garden wall watching me. She’s wearing a very short skirt and a tight T-shirt that shows her tummy. She’s got a tiny rainbow arcing over her navel. I
think
it’s felt tip but it could just be a real tattoo, though maybe she’s not much older than me.
    She’s got a baby in her arms, a squirming damp bundle, dribbling and whining. He’s large and lumpy but she flips him over expertly so he lies across her bony knees, chuckling as she pretends to smack his bottom.
    â€˜You must have more money than sense,’ she says. ‘Feel free to lob a few pounds my way.’ But she smiles as she says it.
    I smile back. I can’t help staring at the baby, wondering.
    â€˜He’s my third,’ she says. ‘My other two are at nursery school.’ Then she cracks up laughing when she sees my face.
    â€˜Joke!’
    â€˜Oh!’
    â€˜It’s April Fool’s Day, right?’
    â€˜Yeah, right,’ I say. ‘It’s my birthday, actually.’
    â€˜Oh well, Happy birthday! What’s your name?’
    â€˜Guess.’
    â€˜Oh-oh! April?’
    â€˜Yep. What’s yours?’
    â€˜Tanya.’
    The baby gurgles on her lap.
    â€˜Yeah, mate, OK. He’s saying