Free The Betrayal of Bindy Mackenzie by Jaclyn Moriarty Page B

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    But why does he disgrace himself, I perplex me, by mingling with the musk-oxen?
    I do not know him well, of course, but I know this for-certain-sure: he is neither poisonous nor venomous.
    No. I see it in his eyes: kindness.
    That rare and valuable—it was he who wrote those simple words, the only kind words, the jewel among the mud, on my Name Game:
    A fast typist.
    My breath stops at the sight of them.
    He is an enigma, a mystery. How did he come to float into our FAD group, the sunlight at play in his hair? Nay, how does he continue to float? I fear his toes must brush against the tops of their heads. I fear he must tarnish his toes. He isin danger! Every moment he spends among them his sweet pink toes are in danger! In danger of inky black mud!
    (I have never seen his toes and must admit, I do not know that they are pink.)
    As his buddy I should advise him to drop out of FAD. It behoves me, nay, it is my duty to give him this advice!
    (Maybe he and I should drop out together? We could spend FAD session time engaged in joint study sessions. It’s not a bad idea.)
    For now, at last, I fall asleep yet my eyes blur with tears at the thought of his words: a fast typist.
    He must have seen me typing earlier that week, the week of the very first FAD session.
    How generous of him to have noticed me, before we were even introduced.

14
    A day in the life of Bindy Mackenzie . . .
    Monday.
Worst day of my life?
    It began with this:
    Uncle Jake, in the kitchen, with the box.
    Usually, it’s just Veronica and me at breakfast—sometimes chatting quietly, sometimes spooning out our grapefruit wedges, lost in thought.
    But there was Jake in his blue flannel pyjamas, ripping up a cardboard box.
    â€˜Bind, you look as bad as I feel,’ said Veronica, and immediately dropped her head onto the table with a clunk. She closed her eyes and appeared to fall asleep. Sometimes Veronica is much like her four-year-old daughter.
    I ate my grapefruit. Jake ripped up his cardboard box. Veronica dozed, her head resting on the table. Now and then she sat up, looked at her teacup, blinked, and rested again. We heard the sound of Bella shouting in her bedroom: ‘I have not been playing with the remote control! It’s not a toy !’ Bella often defends herself in her sleep. There was a grunt from Jake as he tugged at some masking tape on the box.
    â€˜Jake?’ I said. ‘What’s that box you’re tearing up?’
    Veronica sat up and slapped her own cheeks.
    â€˜Finally she asks!’ Jake beamed at Veronica. ‘Go look in the living room, Bind, and you’ll see what was inside the box.’
    I did as he asked.
    Standing in the centre of the room was a shiny, bright white baby swing. It was decorated with dolphins.
    I returned to the kitchen in confusion.
    It was much too small for Bella. Had they lost their sense of proportion?
    But Veronica’s eyes shimmered, Jake dimpled and grinned—and suddenly I understood. ‘You’re having a new baby,’ I whispered.
    â€˜It seemed like a good idea at the time,’ said Veronica.
    â€˜We weren’t going to tell anyone for a couple more weeks,’ explained Jake excitedly, ‘but we saw that swing on sale yesterday and guess what, Bind, you’re the first person we’ve told!’
    I stood in the centre of the kitchen and exclaimed: ‘A baby!’ I’d never been the first to be told about a baby before. I tried to dance my hands about to show excitement.
    But I had a strange sensation, as if there were some problem I’d forgotten.
    â€˜I don’t know if Bella’s going to like this news,’ Veronica was saying, ‘but I’ve got to say, I feel just like I did when she was on the way. I’m so tired and—’
    â€˜Wait a minute,’ I interrupted, realising the problem. ‘This virus that we’ve both got—isn’t that why you feel like this? I mean, are you sure