Rosie Dixon's Complete Confessions. Rosie Dixon

she all right?”

      “She is at the moment, but she’s not going to last, is she?”

      “Why not?”

      “Stands to reason, doesn’t it? If you’re black you never last long on this programme. Specially if you’ve been going out with a white fellow. It saves all the embarrassment. See? She’s going to snuff it. The little white light has stopped bleeping.”

      “I’ve seen them come back after the little white light has stopped bleeping.”

      “Not black ones, you haven’t. Anyway, it’s two weeks since somebody kicked the bucket so we’re due for a spot of the deathbeds. It makes the whole thing more realistic, doesn’t it? You watch.”

      Natalie’s blood is colder than an eskimo’s inside leg measurement and I can’t remember her crying since Mum put her David Cassidy T-shirt in the washing machine—he came out looking like Wee Georgie Wood.

      On the screen, emotions are running higher than the interest rate on a hire purchase agreement. Doctor Eradlik is gazing into the camera as usual and behind him a brash young voice can be heard.

      ‘Sure. I feel great, doc. How’s Dawn?’ An expression of refined pain flashes across Eradlik’s beautiful face. ‘What’s the matter, Doc? Is something wrong? Doc—’

      The voice breaks off in mid-speech even before Eradlik has swung round. ‘You’re not going to find this very easy, Sonny. I’m not finding it very easy myself. You see, Dawn gave you much more than just her kidney.’

       ‘You mean—?’

       ‘Yes, Sonny. She gave you her life.’

      “Just like I said,” interrupts Natalie.

      “Ssssh!” Natalie has no soul. Lots of body but no soul. Sonny is reacting badly to the news so Eradlik puts his hand on his shoulder and gazes into the camera again. ‘We found out after the operation that only one of her kidneys was working.’

       ‘You mean—?’

       ‘That’s right. The one she gave to you.’

       ‘So she knew?’

      ‘Yes, Sonny. She knew. But she also knew that you didn’t know, and knowing that gave her the strength to know herself.’ The camera moves from Eradlik’s face to the sobbing Sonny and then outside to a shot of the sun rising over a hill.

      “I like the end bit best, when he walks down the long corridor and the girl is waiting for him with the sports car,” says Natalie. “The music is nice, too.”

      I pat the tears out of my eyes with a Kleenex and prepare to wrestle with Mum’s burnt dish.

      “You know, I think I’d really like to be a nurse,” I say. “I really would.”

       CHAPTER 2

      “I hope nothing goes wrong,” I say.

      “Of course nothing will go wrong,” says Natalie. “It’s only a little party.”

      It is the day before Mum and Dad are due to come home and much against my better judgement I have been nagged into giving a party with Natalie. The way news of us being on our own has rocketed round the neighbourhood you would think we were a couple of queen bees who had put up a notice saying “Come and get it!” outside the entrance to the hive.

      “Don’t you think those trousers are a bit tight?” I say.

      “Yes,” says Natalie. “That’s the idea. They’re supposed to be figure-hugging.”

      “Figure-hugging? They’re squeezing your body to death. I don’t know how you get into them.”

      “You spray them on and wait for them to dry. Don’t be a spoilsport, Rosie. Relax and have a good time.”

      “I’m not going to relax until everyone has gone home. You know what Mum said. No parties. She’d go mad if she knew that bunch of refugees from Easy Rider was coming round here tonight.”

      “It’s not really a party, more a sorry.”

      “You mean a soiree, don’t you? It’ll be a sorry when Dad finds out about it.”

      “Why should he find out about it?”

      “Because the neighbours are going to tell him, stupid. Mrs Wilson has already got tennis elbow from pulling aside the curtains every time someone comes to the front door.”

      “Maybe we should ask her?”

      “You must be joking. She’d spend all the time in a corner taking down evidence. The last party she went to was to celebrate the shooting down of the first Zeppelin.”

      “What was that?”

      “You don’t know anything, do you? It was a German airship used in the first world war.”

      “Oh, you mean a giant French letter that carried passengers.”

      “Yes. It didn’t carry as many passengers as a real French letter, though.”

      “Does Geoffrey use French letters?”

      “Why do you suddenly ask that? I don’t know.”

      Natalie looks concerned. “Well, you should do. You don’t want to end up in the family way, do you? That would really upset Mum and Dad.”

      “What I meant was—Oh, it doesn’t matter. I don’t want to discuss my sex life with you, Natalie. You take some of your own advice and watch out tonight.”

      I mean it, too. The way the local boys look at Natalie you would think she was a bag of warm aniseed balls thrown over the wall of Battersea Dogs’ Home. At least there is one good thing about those trousers—I can’t see any one getting them off in a hurry.

      “What time is Geoffrey coming to make the punch?” Natalie starts to shiver with make-believe ecstasy. “Oh! To think that humble little me is actually going to drink the same punch as they serve down at the tennis club. Will it taste the same without the silver bowl?”

      “Depends whether you still have your teeth when you try it,” I say.

      Further unpleasantness is prevented by the door bell ringing.

      “That’ll be him,” says Natalie. “Lod Raver himself. I can’t wait to see those hairy wrists stirring in the mandarin oranges.”

      I restrain myself and open the front door. It is Geoffrey. He is wearing his tennis club blazer as I was frightened he might be. He is about as trendy as cardboard spats.

      “Hello Geoff.” Natalie puts on her big smile and Geoffrey beams. She is so two-faced that I could kill her. Even Mum and Dad don’t know what she is really like.

      “I’m not too early, am I?” says Geoffrey. He has not looked at me yet. It is just as well that I don’t fancy him.

      “Of course not,” simpers my adorable little sister. “In fact, Rosie was getting all screwed up waiting for you. You must excuse me, I’ve got to put my face on.”

      “Take care which one you choose,” I hiss, hoping that the venom does not seep through my teeth.

      “Fantastic looking bird, your sister,” says Geoffrey admiringly as Natalie disappears up the stairs. “Definitely ladies doubles champion, eh?”

      “Are my breasts sagging down to my knees?” I say. “Am I repulsive or just invisible?”

      “What are you getting so worked up about?” says Geoffrey. “I only said that your sister was attractive.”

      “What