Totally Insane 27–Explanations.
by Angharad

I got back into our car, Mummy was still talking to Mrs Gonnersall. I sat looking through the windscreen, looking forwards not back, where behind me the two mothers and Philip were talking. I had a sudden flashback to when we were in school a couple of years ago. Gonnersall is an unusual name, and there was a period when other boys used to call him Gonorrhoea Gonnersall . None of us knew what it meant, it was just a rude word that sounded like his name. He hated it, and once or twice had actually cried when called names, especially when he found out it was a sexually transmitted disease–whatever that means.

I sniggered to myself, then felt embarrassed, if not ashamed. Here I was laughing at someone who’d risk the wrath of the ‘rents, to stand up for me–and I was laughing at him. I was nearly in tears in my shame when Mummy came back to the car.

“Let’s go home shall we, Kylie?” she said starting up the engine.

“Please,” I said looking out the side window.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” I lied, but I could feel her eyes boring into me. I started to sniff, and then to cry. I heard her switch off the engine and put her arm around me.

“I’m afraid there’s going to be some more of these encounters before you get much older.”

“Why can’t people just let me be, Mummy?”

“I don’t know, sweetheart.” She pulled me to her and I had to release the seatbelt or be strangled by it. Once clear of it, she hugged me and kissed me on top of my head.

“I’m not hurting anyone,” I continued my complaint.

“I know, but that’s how some people are.”

“You’d think I was a criminal or some sort of monster.” I wasn’t sure if self pity or anger was becoming dominant.

“I know you’re neither of those things, and so does your father and Brian. You can count on us for support, as you know.”

“And Philip,” I added shrilly, “he stuck up for me against his horrid mother.”

“Yes he did, didn’t he? He’s becoming quite a defender for you, isn’t he?”

“He’s nice, Mummy, and I like him lots. I don’t know what I would have done if she’d stopped me seeing him?”

“I’m sure we’d have been able to accommodate something, Kylie.”

“What, you’d have helped me see him against her wishes?” I was agog, my mother actively suggesting subterfuge–mind you she can be sneaky with Daddy, when he doesn’t appear to want to do what she wants.

“As that isn’t going to happen, let’s leave it there shall we?” Mummy rapidly changed the subject, so maybe I was on dangerous ground, I wondered if all this was part of the feminine wiles I’d eventually learn as I grew up.

“What did you say to Mrs Gonorrhoea?”

“I beg your pardon?” said Mummy sharply.

“What did you say to Mrs Gonor–oops–Mrs Gonnersall?” I blushed furiously and the car seemed to become very hot.

She gave me an old fashioned look, presumably at the slip of tongue, it was an accident–I think. “I told her what the experts had said, and a few other things. I also pointed out that discrimination is illegal.”

“Is it?”

“I don’t know, but she didn’t challenge me. I suspect it is for adults, but not for children, they always forget kids when they make new laws, ignoring the fact that people are hardly likely to wake up at aged forty and decide they’d like a change.”

“What do you mean, Mummy?”

“I mean, darling, that most people, well I assume, most people who change their gender have thought about it for some time, probably since they were kids or young people; they don’t just wake up one morning after being a man or woman and decide they’d like to be the opposite sex, for a change.”

“Maybe they should, Mummy, then they’d understand what I’m going through.”

“You’re probably right, Kylie. I sometimes think, if all these silly children who are wasting their education or their lives generally, spent some time in Africa with the poor children over there, who can’t get education because of poverty; or who have to walk three miles to get fresh water every day, they’d have a much more positive view of life. They don’t know they’re born.”

“Would I be able to be a girl in Africa? I mean if I’d been born in Africa instead of here?”

“I don’t know, Kylie, I suspect it would have been much harder as resources tend to be much scarcer. It would probably be up to you in the end, if you really wanted to do something, you might just manage to do it.”

“You mean like, marry Philip?”

Mummy coughed for a moment before answering, “I suspect it’s a bit premature for such things, young lady, now let’s get home and have a cuppa and perhaps a piece of toast.”

Back at home, Brian had presumably finished watching his film, so sister baiting became a more enjoyable form of indulgence. “What you crying for–lost your match did you?”

“Brian, there’s no verb in that sentence, say it again properly,” my mother exhorted and suddenly, Brian lost his enthusiasm for teasing. Muttering something that sounded like rowlocks, he slunk away up to his room.

Mummy looked at me and my disappearing brother and said, “It must have been something I said,” she smirked and I sniggered. ’Knickers’ came wafting down the stairs. Mummy decided enough insubordination had transpired. “Brian, come here.”

She had to repeat the command before he slouched into view and defiantly said, “What?”

“What did you say when you went up the stairs?”

“Nothin’, why?”

“Don’t give me that, you know damn well what you said.” Mummy seemed to be getting taller and Brian was shrinking before my very eyes. “You said, Knickers.”

“So?” he shrugged unapologetically.

“Kylie has another pair of those frilly tennis ones, unless you want to end up wearing them for the rest of the week, I think an apology is in order.”

I’m sure he did say he was sorry, but my mind had moved on to much more entertaining prospects, of him arriving at the gym in my CBKs. Then he’d know how I felt, wouldn’t he?

Actually, he wouldn’t. I look like a girl, he doesn’t. I look positively charming in them, he’d look absurd. Despite his occasional acts of bullying or teasing, and his threats to my well being, most of which are bluster–it’s what big brothers do–pull rank, against younger siblings, especially younger brothers, by violence. I wonder if he would hit me? I doubt it, but I don’t plan on finding out in case he did. He’s very strong and all that karate stuff, means he’s dangerous too. All I have is my growing armoury of feminine wiles, being sneaky and using my wits.

So, do I want to see him in my chicken bum knicks? Not really, he’d feel humiliated and besides he’d stretch them to hell and back–he’s quite a bit bigger than me.

“Kylie, have you gone deaf?” my mother snapped at me.

I jumped clean out of my reverie and almost into the sink. “Yes, Mummy?”

“Goodness, girl, clean your ears out. I said, put the kettle on.”

“Oh, yes, I will.”

By the time it had boiled and I’d poured some on some teabags–in the pot of course–and after warming it first, Brian and my imagination had disappeared, and Mummy was opening a packet of chocolate biscuits.

“I didn’t know we had any of those?” I said licking my lips, Brian usually makes short work of them if there are any in the house.

“Ah, I hid these,” Mummy grinned, was she being sneaky?

I challenged her, “That’s sneaky,” I asserted.

“No, it’s tactical deception,” she corrected me.

“Oh, what does that mean?”

“It’s sneaky,” and she laughed.

As we drank our teas and munched our way through a couple of biscuits, each, she asked me about Auntie Em wanting me to baby-sit.

“Yes, she asked me if I could sit for her on Friday lunchtime, I thought I’d better ask you first, Mummy.”

“It’s a huge responsibility, Kylie. If anything goes wrong…”

“Oh don’t, Mummy, I’ve sat for her before when she’s gone shopping.”

“What about your lunch and Sarah’s?”

“I can have a sandwich, I’ll make it before I go there. Auntie Em, will have baby Sarah’s all ready for me.”

“What if she chokes or something?”

“If I can’t sort it, I’ll call 999.”

“Okay. I suspect it’s highly illegal, you’re not yet fourteen, which is the legal requirement. I’m not entirely happy with the prospect.”

“But you said, yes?”

“Well, I could hardly say no, could I? I mean, Emma has been so good to you. So it’s yes with some reservations. You must take your mobile with you, and make sure you have enough credits and it’s charged up.”

“I could take her out in the pram if it’s fine, Mummy.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Kylie. You stay at home and keep things simple.”

“Okay, Mummy, but I can do it?”

“I’ve already said yes, haven’t I. Don’t you dare make me regret it.”

“I won’t, Mummy, I promise.”

The next day was a bit more school work and looking after baby Sarah. I asked Auntie Em, if I could do it all, with her just watching me, so I’d be even more practised when I did it on Friday. Which is what we did, and I got it all right, so we both felt a bit more confident.

The same happened on Thursday, and I was becoming quite experienced with my baby care skills. So when Friday arrived, I dressed up a bit, put on my favourite skirt and top, red ones with my red shoes and I painted my nails red–I felt grown up and sophisticated–with some of the stuff, Lorraine had given me. I’d tried some red lipstick as well, but it looked silly. So I used a pink one and put some mascara on, too.

“Oh my goodness, you look as if you’re the one going out for dinner, Kylie.”

“Well, as temporary lady of the house, I thought I’d dress the part,” I said sauntering past her and she chuckled at me.

“You are funny, Kylie,” she said hugging me. “Right let’s have a cuppa before madam wakes up, then you can change and feed her while I go and change into my glad rags for my lunch. Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”

“What, making the tea?”

“No, silly, baby sitting?”

“I think so, so do you–that’s why you asked me, isn’t it?”

“Absolutely.”

We drank our tea and ate a biscuit–I’d have to watch all these biscuits, or I’d get fat. I know Philip wouldn’t want a fat girlfriend. Then I went and got Sarah, who gurgled at me; she is such a happy baby. I know she’s the only one I actually have experience of, but she is so good and Mummy says they can be really hard work sometimes. I expect Brian was, I’d have been perfect of course.

I fed and changed Sarah, and bathed her and so on. Auntie Em looked really nice when she came back down, she was wearing a lovely green and gold dress and green shoes with heels so high I wondered how she could stand on them, but she walked with ease.

“Gosh, Auntie Em, how can you walk in those shoes?”

“It takes practice, Kylie, and don’t believe anyone who says it doesn’t. Next time you come over, you can have a try if you like.”

“Wow, yes please, but don’t tell Mummy, she’d have my guts for garters.”

“No, of course not,” she laughed. “My handsome prince should be here in a moment, with his carriage.” Almost as she finished saying this; Uncle Kit walked in, he looked smart too, in his suit.

“Your carriage awaits, milady.” He bowed as he spoke and I giggled; Sarah, in her carrycot laughed as well.

“You will be alright won’t you, Kylie?”

“We’re only going to be a couple of hours, darling,” said Uncle Kit.

“Yes, I know, Kit, but it’s a big responsibility.”

“I’ll be okay, Auntie Em, remember you taught me?”

“Okay, sweetheart,” she kissed me and then baby Sarah. “You be good for Kylie, you little baggage.” Of course, Sarah, giggled and kicked her feet in the air. “See you in two hours.”

“Be good, both of you,” exhorted Kit.

“We will, won’t we, Sarah?” I replied and they left.

Sarah was very good as always. She slept in her carrycot thingy while I sat nearby reading a book about Admiral Lord Nelson. He suffered from sea sickness all his life, and he was reckless to the point of suicidal at times. No wonder the French sniper shot him, he was wandering about his ship like he was out on an afternoon promenade. It was riveting stuff all the same, I almost forgot I was reading it as schoolwork.

I was deeply engrossed in how Nelson saved the royal family of Naples–in those days, Italy was a collection of little princedoms and dukedoms, not the state of chaos, my dad says it is today. Anyway, so interesting was the book, I suspect the noise I heard had been going for some time. A sort of dripping noise.

I put my book down, checked on Sarah–she was in the land of nod–and went in search of the noise. I checked all the downstairs rooms and couldn’t see anything. So next I went upstairs, nothing seemed to be happening there either. Curiouser and curiouser according to Alice; I went down again, listened and then went back to Admiral Nelson.

I was wondering what he was thought to have said when he lay dying on the deck of HMS Victory. Some say he said, “Kiss me, Hardy,” others think he said, “Kismet, Hardy.” As he had run off with someone else’s wife, it seemed unlikely he’d want Captain, later admiral, Thomas Hardy, to kiss him. This isn’t the same Thomas Hardy who wrote all those dreary novels, but Admiral Sir Thomas Hardy, who funnily enough came from pretty well the same place as the other Thomas Hardy, Dorchester in Dorset.

Lady Emma Hamilton who left her husband to live with Nelson, went on to live in relative poverty after Nelson died, abandoned by all the nice society of the day–so nothing new there then. According to Daddy, lots of the ‘nice’ people are anything but, unless you have something they want.

I picked up my book again, but was half listening for whatever the noise was. There it was again, drip, drip. I put down my book and went in search again. Once more I couldn’t find anything. What on earth was it? Back to Nelson after checking on Sarah.

My eyes were closing as I read, when I heard Sarah, gurgle. I went and picked her up and gave her a bottle and burped her. A little later I changed her and played with her. I put her down in her bouncer seat which has a mobile of butterflies on it, so when she bounces about in it, the butterflies swirl about.

Then I heard the drip, drip again. It was coming from the kitchen. I walked through and to my horror noticed a huge bulge appearing in the kitchen ceiling with a little puddle forming on the middle of the floor. In the distance I heard a car park and moments later a key in the lock. I was mesmerised by this growing bubble above me.

Then as the front door opened and a voice called, “Kylie” and I glanced up at the ceiling and saw the paint or paper it was made of tear and water gushed forth with me screaming underneath it. I felt this wave of wet stuff hit me and it knocked me off my feet and into a cupboard door.

“Oh my God,” screamed Auntie Em, and Uncle Kit waded into the kitchen and picked me up. I was a bit dazed to say the least, and can remember being picked up and wrapped in a large towel.

“What happened?” I asked Auntie Em as she handed me a cup of tea.

“Uncle Kit thinks there was a leak in a pipe in the bathroom.”

“I kept hearing a dripping noise. I kept going to see where it was but I couldn’t see anything. It wasn’t my fault, Auntie Em,” I burst into tears.

“We know that, Kylie, it was a pipe that leaked. I’m just so glad you weren’t hurt.”

“My best shoes are all wet,” I sobbed, “they’re probably ruined.”

“If they are, we’ll get you a new pair.” Auntie Em hugged me.

We’d finished our tea when Uncle Kit returned from helping the emergency plumber. “The plumber has finished, and the insurance people are sending a builder round tomorrow to give us an estimate for a new ceiling. How are you now, young lady?”

“She had a bit of a fright, but us girls are made of sterner stuff than you boys, aren’t we Kylie?”

Uncle Kit pulled a face at this and I sniggered and nodded my agreement with Auntie Em. “Yeah, but you still need us boys to fix the mess, don’t you?” he retaliated.

“Well of course, it would destroy our manicures, wouldn’t it Kylie?” I nodded and sniggered again, then looked at my nails, somehow I’d managed to chip two of my nails and part of me wanted to get home to fix it. One of the dangers of having strong colours is that the marks show up more easily. As Mummy would probably make me take it off anyway, I’d do that when I got home and replace it with a light pink colour.

I finished my tea, “I think I’d best be going home now, Auntie Em.”

“Are you sure you feel okay, you took a bit of a bang on the head against the cupboard?”

“I think, I’m alright, I’ll go home and change and put the dinner on for Mummy.”

“You are such a kind young lady. If you feel at all strange or anything, give me a ring and I’ll come straight over. Okay?”

“Yes, Auntie Em.”

“Tell Rosemary I’ll be over to see her later.”

“Yes, I will Auntie Em, do you want this towel back first?”

“No, I’ll collect it later.”

I fled back to our house hoping no one saw my impression of a drowned rat in a towel. When I got home, I could see the change from when I’d left here this morning. Then I looked quite good now–I looked like someone who’d just been fished out of a river.

I stripped off and showered, after drying myself and dressing in tee shirt and jeans, I put my wet stuff in the washing machine. I had to pack my bra with a pair of socks, my little boob-pad things were still wrapped in a towel in my bedroom and the thought of Brian making some remark about my flat chest really got to me today. I would have dissolved into tears, so it was better not to get caught.

I was taking the varnish off my nails when he came home from school. “Is that all you’ve done all bloody day, painted your bloody nails. Bloody women.” He stormed off up the stairs clutching a can of cola and bag of crisps. I was so glad I hadn’t gone flat chested, he would have said something unkind.

Once I finished removing my nail polish, I washed my hands and put the fish in the already warm oven. Then I did some potatoes and other vegetables, while our wannabe alpha male came down dressed in the scruffiest jeans and tee I’d seen him wear for ages.

“ ‘Ere, wash these for me,” he demanded shoving a bundle of dirty clothes in my arms before I could stop him.

“I’m not your servant,” I said dropping them on the floor.

“Well you do bugger all else, so you can be the maid for now, so pick ‘em up and wash ‘em, okay?” He stood in front of me, a good six inches taller than me, and much broader and heavier. He was quite intimidating or trying to be.

However, I wasn’t going to be intimidated. If I let him get away with this, he’d make my life a misery. “You know where the machine is,” I said walking away from him.

“ Oi, Pansy Potter, pick ‘em up and stick ‘em in the machine.”

“Sorry, I’m doing the dinner, you want them washed, you put them in the machine. I’m busy.” I pushed past him and went to the machine and emptied it of my own laundry. “Here, I’ll leave the door open.”

“You, lazy bitch,” he snapped at me.

“Am I? Shows how much you know, doesn’t it.”

“What setting do I need?”

“Probably something that sterilises it for two hours,” I called back.

“Watch it, or you’ll need something that gets bloodstains out,” he snapped back.

“At least I know what to do, which is more than you, cor, I can smell those jeans from here,” I said wrinkling up my nose. I couldn’t of course but he didn’t know that, and I nearly wet myself when he actually sniffed them before he put them in the machine.

“Well I can’t smell anything,” he declared.

“Girl’s noses are more sensitive than boys, you get used to being all stinky, but we notice it?” I caught sight of his reflection in the tiles, he was sniffing under his arms and I had to run upstairs to the loo, I was laughing so much.

Thanks to Gabi for express editing, any mistakes still here - blame Bonzi - he doesn't give a toss.