Time is flying; the cicadas of summer sing their lovers song then fall silent again. I thought being pregnant would be easier second time around. I'm sure I heard that it is. It was probably one of those New Age mums who just wriggle their hips and the baby pops out, 'Oh giving birth, it was a truly cosmic experience'. Well it wasn't for me and neither is being pregnant again. I'm always sweet to Nelly; well at least I try to be. It's Negrita who cops the real me. She used to rub up against my legs when I was cooking. Not anymore. After being kicked one too many times she stays clear of the mean, nasty, horrible Mama Taylor. She doesn't even sleep on my bed anymore.

  My kung fu is coming along. The meditation bit is tricky with Nelly there and it may be a little while until I reach the same, hover about the place, state of Zen that Tat and Jesus enjoy, but it does help. My body and mind relax and I become a nice person. I am getting strong and agile too, and rather than just bumbling along in a daydream, I'm starting to have an awareness of what's around me. Jesus and Tat fight sometimes, bowing politely first then attacking each other in a blur of arms and legs. Tat usually wins but Jesus is extremely tough and can take a lot off punishment.

  Tat has a trick of holding Jesus's spikes in a special way that paralyses him and puts him to sleep. 'Anodes are incredibly tough and can be evil creatures,' he says, teaching me the move. 'It might just come in handy sometime.'

  Nelly loves my slimeball fang. She also wants to get her hands on Enzo. She knows there's something in my pocket and tries her best to get hold of it. I usually carry her on my left side so she can't reach; she struggles and struggles then turns her attention to trying to pull the fang from my belt. She can get hold of it but hasn't yet managed to pull it free. I'm not sure I should let my nine month old baby play with a black hole or a slimeball fang. What would social services say if she went splut and disappeared into nothingness or turned into an evil tyrant who ate her own babies under the powers of the fang? She's driving me nuts though. In the end I stomp my feet and plonk her down heavily on the floor.

  'Okay, okay, okay,' I screech, flicking Enzo’s cage open and giving Nelly the fang. 'If you want them that bad, you can have them. Here you go, have the fang, play with the black hole, but don't you come crying to me if you poke yourself in the eye or get sucked in!'

  She giggles at me as she sticks the fang impossibly far into her mouth, then starts prodding Enzo with it.

  'Go on disappear; I've had enough of you!' I’m so crabby sometimes. I'm such a bad, bad mum.

  'Enzo,' I whisper. 'Remember your gravity.'

  He's happy to be out of my pocket and plays gently with Nelly, moving around slowly to keep her entertained.

  Negrita comes out of nowhere and pounces, grabbing Enzo out of the air and rolling over on the floor gripping him with her claws. Nelly giggles and saying, 'Zo, zo, zo, zo,zo,' struggles to her feet and stands there wobbling.

  'You star Nelly, you stood up, you clever thing,' I say in my baby voice. 'Come to Mum.'

  She wobbles a bit more, falls back down on her bottom, then crawls off at full speed after Enzo.

  Over the next few weeks, Nel stands more and more, pulling herself up against the bits of driftwood in the kitchen or using my leg as a handhold. She totters there for a moment then falls over. Her head is black and blue. I've used my entire supply of arnica and are trying to get hold of some more. She's going to get brain damage. If I was a good mum, I'd get her a crash helmet. She loves me to hold her hands so she can walk around the house and garden. My patience only goes so far and I usually end up curled up on my old sofa, hiding my head in book, hoping she will find someone else to play with.

  She will have someone soon, Number 2 is on the way and my little bump grows by the day.

  I'm horny as. I want to have sex. I would love to get Zula up again, but I don't want to push my luck, something might go wrong. Jesus is not my type. I'd love to do it with Azziz but it would never last. My instincts say stay clear. I could go to Zwingly, with all the wild rock stars and artists but I don't know what I'd do if I saw James. I don't want to go to his asteroid, not yet. I click my fingers to get the worm and look for men on Earth. There's lots of them and I'd love to try some of them out. Some lucky ones have girlfriends who take care of their needs but most of them have to look after themselves most of the time. They seem to wank every night. Does the operating manual say, 'Equipment must be tested daily?' If they all had girlfriends there would be zillions of babies on Earth.

  I'm watching one, fascinated, when Pollux whispers quietly to me, 'He's like the mad robot.'

  'The mad robot?' I ask.

  'Yes, the mad robot,' he says. 'He pulled himself to pieces.'

  When I've stopped laughing, I say, 'Pollux, I'm having a private moment. No peeking!'

  'Sorry, we slugs see everything; it's what we do. If it's private, I keep it to myself and don't broadcast it on the web.'

  'I should hope not!'

  I'm lying in my bed and soon I've forgotten about slugs and are back in a world filled with gorgeous naked men. With the worm I can see, I can smell and I can hear. I'm there snuggled up beside them but I can't touch. I get all hot. I touch myself gently. It feels so good. Just one click of my fingers and I'll be there.

  'Don't,' says Pollux.

  He really knows how to take the heat out of the moment.

  'Mind your own business,' I snap.

  'Emily, be careful. You might get pregnant.'

  'I am pregnant.'

  'You might catch horrible diseases.'

  'He looks healthy to me.'

  'He might be a psycho killer.'

  'He's lovely, he's dreaming of the girl that sits opposite him on the train.'

  'He's got crabs.'

  'Urrrrgh, I'll keep my distance. Now go away!'

  Slugs, what can you do with them!

  I relax again and soon I'm back where I was before, breathing deeply and drifting away into another world. I push the girl in his dreams aside and slip in there myself. He's a little surprised at first, then quickly takes a shine to me. Tart. I might visit him again sometime, he's cute. I'll try out some others first.

  Nelly and me visit Castor and go shopping. With the days drawing in and cooler weather on the way, Nel's going to need some clothes. She's toilet trained. We got that sorted early on. She has the odd little accident, but usually it's my fault because I forget. The cleaning up is like my punishment for not paying attention. Being toilet trained, she can have clothes that fit nicely, like have a little pair of knickers and some leggings rather than the huge all in one that's needed to accommodate a full nappy.

  We spend hours shopping. Using the virtual model, she tries on the clothes and jumps around in them to see how they fit. Although all she can say is, 'Zo, zo, zo,' and, 'Ma, ma, ma,' I can see pretty quickly if she likes an outfit or not. Once we’ve put the order in, I remember her birthday. It's still a little way off but I need to get her a present. What in the world would she like?

  Castor and me have a look to see what one year olds are playing with. In Botswana the kids are having great fun playing with empty plastic coke bottles; in Korea they're virtual, the babies are virtual and so are the toys; in Manchester they have bright coloured plastic things with batteries in that flash and whistle and talk back to you. Some of the dolls even pee their pants. I wonder if they do number twos as well; and, in the highlands of New Guinea they're playing with their great grandfather's fibula. I should really just drink a bottle of coke and give her the empty but I can't resist buying her the obscene plastic flashy thing. She's my first baby after all, and it's her first birthday. You are only one once.

  I thought Nelly was going to walk months ago but she's still not there. It's December and her birthday is almost upon us. Jesus suggests having a big party for her birthday, rather than his.

  'We can't have two parties in two weeks,' he says. 'Let's celebrate her birthday, it's special'

  It is. 'Let's,' I say. It seems a good idea, then I think about it a bit more. 'Does this mean you're cancelling Christmas?'

  'Yes.'

  'You can't cancel Christmas.'

  'It's my birthday; I can do what I like.'

  'No you can't, I like Christmas. Let's have dinner at my place.'

  'Let's.'

  I glimpse something out of the corner of my eye. I can't believe it; she's walking!

  'Look, look, look!' I say, grabbing Jesus's arm. 'She's coming to see us.'

  Nelly totters over to us and hangs onto Jesus's knee. She looks ever so proud of herself. Turning to me, she says, 'Ma, ma, mama,' and staggers across to me.

  She's so clever. I do feel a little sad though, I wish she could have the chance to say, 'Da, da, dada.'

  I miss Dad and Mum like never before. Nelly's one today and I want to show her off. Mum would go all gooey and I could tease Dad about being a granddad. He looks the part now that I've given him lots of grey hair.

  We don't tell Nelly about her birthday, we keep it top secret until after she's had her afternoon nap. I walk along the beach carrying her with Enzo and Negrita chasing around my ankles doing their best to trip me up. It's hard work, I'm six months pregnant and Nelly's getting heavy. I'm tempted to teleport but remember my kung fu training. I need to push myself; I need to suffer.

  'No you don't,' says Castor. 'Stop, it's not you that's suffering; it's your baby. You need to take care of her.'

  'Her?' I say.

  'Ooops,' says Castor, sounding sheepish.

  'That's okay; you're just trying to help. You're right; I need to take care of me, I need to look after her.'

  I'd hoped that she was a boy. I'd love to have a little Zula running about up here. Castor says she's okay and there's nothing wrong with her, that's the main thing.

  There's just five of us at Azziz's cafe for Nelly's birthday, her, me, Jesus, Azziz and Janice. It's a nice surprise to see Janice; I haven't seen her in ages. She's looking really healthy, like glowing. She's got a bit of a bump too.

  She smiles and says, 'It's contagious!'

  I look at Azziz and give him a wink. He gives me a little nod back. It's him; he's the dad! I wonder if the baby will have special powers.

  I said not to bother with presents but everyone has bought a little something. I don't want a house full of junk, but it looks like it is going to be. With a bit of help from me, Nelly tears the wrapping paper off the presents. There's a lovely little doll from Janice, a dinosaur from Azziz and crayons and paints from Jesus. Nel chews on the dinosaur and helps me to open the big box with the flashy thing. It's wonderful, like a cross between a pinball machine and a stove. It has drawers and doors and lights and buzzers and spinny things. I play with it and Nel plays in the empty box. She spends hours climbing in and out and playing peek-a-boo. The birthday cake looks so cute with just one little candle. We wash it down with hot tea while Nel smears her piece all over the flashy thing.

  After sunset, Azziz and Jesus's guests start arriving. It's great to see everyone but I feel shattered. Nel and me leave them to party and head for home and a comfy bed.

  Nel loves the crayons. She chews on them, posts them into the wood basket and draws on the walls with them. I try giving her paper but she prefers the bigger canvas. I'm so proud of my little graffiti artist that I leave her to it. Just one wall in the living room, that's all she's getting. When she's having her nap, I try to clean it off. As well as being carbon neutral, non-toxic, eco-friendly and ethically and sustainability produced, the crayons are also permanent. Nothing will move them. I scrub, I brush, I wipe, I use nasty products that take the skin off my hands but nothing will move them. I slip them into the bin and hide the paints in a high cupboard for when she's much, much bigger.

  Nel adores the box the flashy thing came in. She plays with it all day, she puts things in it and she sleeps in it.

  Using hot soapy water, I try to remove the chocolate cake that is smeared all over the flashy thing and has cemented itself into the rollers and spinny bits. The water gets into the workings and the thing goes haywire, flashing and buzzing, counting to ten in an annoying American accent and playing Old McDonald had a farm in Chinese. I bash it and hold it upside down and shake it but it won't stop. It's driving me crazy. Using my fang, I prise open the battery compartment and knock the batteries out sending them rolling in all directions across the floor. Silence, yes.

  Nelly laughs a deep rumbling belly laugh; Oh, mum you are so funny! She collects the batteries up and, after sucking on them, tries to put them in the flashy thing. No, no, no, I've had enough of it. Being the good mum I am, I stick the batteries back in and it buzzes and flashes and vibrates and counts to ten in that really annoying accent.

  'Does this man really exist?' I say, talking to the cooker. 'If he was my husband, I'd have killed him long ago.'

  'Dead, he's dead,' says Pollux. 'He was murdered by his wife.'

  'Good,' I say, feeling strangely satisfied.

  Nelly kicks and knocks and shakes the flashy thing and bashes the battery compartment with her dinosaur, saying, 'Kill, kill, kill.' I must be more careful what I say and do in front of her.

  It's driving me nanas. She plays with it, and plays with it, then plays with it some more. She has managed to get rid of the American and now there's a man reciting Hickory dickory dock in Chinese. I'm sure his wife killed him as well. Maybe Enzo can distract her. I let him out of his antimatter cage and he whizzes over to Nelly. He has a soft spot for her, I can tell. She pokes and prods the flashy thing and bashes it with her dinosaur while Enzo hovers about, vying for her attention. I nip out for just a second to put a pooey blanket in the tub to soak. When I come back, there's silence. The flashy thing has gone. Big, bright, flashy things don't just vanish into thin air, not unless there's a black hole around! I'm glad to see the back of it.

  By Christmas, Nelly is seriously mobile. She disappears on me, and I run around panicking like a headless chook until I find her on the beach eating dead fish. Sometimes she is truly horrible; she does the most disgusting things. I barricade the front door with a driftwood stump, figuring that it will keep me agile having to clamber over it each time I come and go. I must admit that now I'm pregnant again, I do teleport about the place. Sometimes I make a cup of tea, then checking she's busy, click my fingers and have a precious moment of peace and quiet, all alone on the battered old sofa outside.

  It's wild and stormy on Christmas Day and Jesus, Azziz and Janice arrive tousled and dripping wet at my door early in the afternoon. I throw a couple of extra logs on the fire and mix them a stiff hot toddy, and make a hot choccy for me.

  I add an extra slug of whiskey and say, 'This'll warm your cockles. Happy Birthday Jesus!'

  Clunk, clunk, clunk, clunk, clunk, clunk.

  We tap our mugs together and drink to Jesus's good health.

  We have a big fat roast chicken, with stuffing and Yorkshire puds and lashings of gravy. After a long siesta I bring in the Christmas cake. We sing happy birthday and Jesus makes a wish and blows out the candles.

  'About bloody time,' whispers Pollux.

  About time for what I wonder.

  We spend the evening drinking good red wine, singing and toasting up nibbles on the fire. They stay until after the New Year. They're fun and it's nice to have a full house. Looking after Nelly is a whole lot easier with people around, she adores all the extra attention.

  God is noticeable by his absence. I try calling him up to see how he is and wish him a happy New Year but there's no body home. Even the slugs don't know where he is.

  I haven't seen Tat for a while either. He'll be sitting cross-legged in his shack thinking lofty thoughts. It's like he chooses to suffer so much that he feels guilty if he's enjoying himself, like it's a sin to be happy. He really should let his hair down occasionally. I'll invite him around, Nelly adores him and he can spar with Enzo.

  'Am I spoiling Nelly?' I ask Castor. 'I'm always fussing over her.'

  'Give her all the love and kisses and cuddles you can. That's not going to spoil her. Kids get spoilt by a lack of love and attention, not too much. Number 2 will be along soon and you won't have as much time for Nel anymore. Make the most of it while it's easy.'

  Easy! What am I letting myself in for? I'll keep giving Nel lots of kisses and cuddles. They're coming her way, like it or not!

  16

  Me, Nelly and Tat are sitting in the middle of the paddock trying to make friends with the sheep. Tat doesn't eat red meat but I love it. The sheep don't have names like Minty, Gravy, Sizzle and Chops for nothing, they don't trust me an inch. We have been here all morning, Zenning out.

  'Patience Grasshopper,' says Tat. 'They'll come to us.'

  They haven't moved an inch yet. They're standing in the farthest corner jingling their bells as they fidget nervously.

 

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