Bab 5: Changed
“Time to transfer to the baby changing room, Olivia…are you up to walking or do you need another carry?” She said, whilst slipping her phone into her jacket pocket. She had a large tote bag over her shoulder, and a furious look on her face. She did not seem to like me very much at all, but the feeling seemed to be mutual, from the emotions bubbling inside me. It was all a bit hard to read, but whatever was left of Olivia did not like being babied like that, and family friend or not, she did not like Mrs Blackstone.
“I think I can walk, Mrs Blackstone?” I murmured, because I really did not want her to carry me again, and I did feel less shaky. She frowned and nodded, almost reluctantly.
“Good…but let me help you down…I don’t think you are up to jumping off there…and you are holding my hand, Olivia?” She instructed, rather brusquely, I thought, and then I knew that I did not like her, for sure. It was like a muscle memory, like suddenly remembering something that I had forgotten all about, but as she had called me, or rather called Olivia, a naughty little girl, earlier on, I was quite prepared to take the thoughts at face value. But I did not resist her helping me down from the high desk, high to Olivia at any rate, and I meekly let her take my hand, turning my thoughts to the pull-up I could feel beneath my skirt. I had not noticed it until she put her hand up my skirt, to check on it, whilst she was carrying me away from the Dream Stone. Mind you, I had not noticed a lot of things, at that stage, because I was still in shock from the rampage, and the aftereffects of being zapped by the magical Dream Stone. But ever since calming down a little, which really happened when the paramedic started examining me and I had a chance to catch my breath, I was aware of wearing what was effectively a nappy beneath my school kilt. A very wet nappy.
My mum, Kelly’s mum, was a nurse, in a care home, looking after old people, and over the years, chatting to her about her work, a lot of which seemed to involve incontinence, I knew a fair bit about nappies, pads and pull-ups. I also knew about kids having problems, like wetting the bed at night, or occasional accidents. As Mrs Blackstone led me out of the office and then down a sort of corridor towards the toilets, I remembered knowing a girl at primary school who wore pull-ups, for a little while. So, it was not unheard of, and Olivia obviously had some sort of problem, which was now my problem, and that felt weird, in a whole world of weird from the weirdest place possible. She took me into the baby-changing room, not a toilet, locked the door, let go of my hand and put her bag down at the end of the big changing shelf. I just stood there, watching her, like a frightened rabbit caught in the headlights of a car.
“I know you don’t like being changed, Olivia…but whether it was the scare you just had, or just one of your little accidents, you are soaked…so, I need to get you clean, and put some rash cream on you…those pull-ups are very absorbent but Caroline worries about you getting sore if you are left…I have to do it, I promised her I would look after you…and you promised her that you would behave?”
“I could do it myself?” I suggested, which seemed reasonable to me. But she just frowned at me again, then gently removed my hat and started to unbutton my blazer, as if she thought that Olivia was incapable of doing anything for herself.
“You could take yourself to the toilet more often, and then we would not have to change you at all…but in this state, I need to be sure you are dry…and clean…I promised your stepmother that I would take good care of you today…so, behave, please?” She said, helping me out of the jacket and hanging it on a hook by the door. Then she removed my skirt and lifted me up on to the shelf, like a toddler. “Lie down, Olivia.”
“Yes, Mrs Blackstone.” I mumbled, because she seemed to expect some sort of response from me, doing as she asked, not really looking forward to her touching me, down there. But I did not seem to have much choice. Bitch, the back of my brain suggested, as she got the tail of my blouse and jumper out of the way, and I just started to squirm, almost involuntarily.
“Olivia…keep still!” She said sharply, smacking my thigh, and I started to cry. I was not the sort of girl who bursts into tears all the time. I was not hard-nosed or anything but I was usually able to control my emotions, in front of people. If Kelly cried, she cried alone in her room, and never let anyone else see that was so upset. But at that moment, after the ordeal of everything that had been happening to me, I just started to sob, overwhelmed by everything. Not that Mrs Blackstone seemed to take any notice. She just pulled off the pull-up, produced some wet wipes from her bag to clean me up, and then quickly applied some nappy rash cream, before reaching for a clean pull-up. Olivia was all smooth down there. No pubic hair, so no puberty, I thought to myself. “Do stop making such a silly fuss…you really do need looking after, Olivia…and you brought all of this on yourself today…wandering off and getting yourself into trouble as always. What did you think you were doing, you silly little girl?”
“I…don’t…know,” I sniveled, as she helped me back into my skirt, and tucked in my blouse for me, because I had no idea why Olivia had wandered off. When I thought about it, when I bumped into her, as Kelly, she was the only striped blazer around. No friends, no supervising teachers, just her, all alone. I mean, Gemma and I had been just wandering around, but we were vaguely with a group, and there were Redstone teachers stalking the museum with us, trying to stop the usual mayhem breaking out. It did not seem likely that a posh private school would let their precious pupils roam free.
“Your poor parents are at their wits end with you, young lady…your school work is dreadful and getting worse…your attitude is appalling…and you keep causing trouble…and all you can say is that you don’t know?” She barked, clearly annoyed, as she picked up my blazer and held it out for me to slip my thin arms into the sleeves. “If you were my daughter, I would be putting you over my knee, for a proper spanking…poor Caroline was in tears on the phone…she is so worried about you, but this would never have happened if you had stayed with your group. It is all your own fault…”
“I’m not your daughter…or hers.” I muttered, although they were not my words. They came from deep inside of me, and just pushed their way out of my mouth, like burning air. I was just as surprised about saying them as Mrs Blackstone evidently was to hear them. But I could not stop them spewing out of me. “I didn’t mean to get trampled, obviously…I was just looking at the Dream Stone…I wasn’t doing anything at all wrong…and you are just mean!”
“Sneaking away from your group was wrong…school rules are not optional…and whilst we might not be ideally suited to be mother and daughter, poor Caroline has done nothing but try to be a good mother to you, Olivia…she deserves better?” Mrs Blackstone insisted, finishing buttoning up my blazer and plonking my hat on my head quite roughly. She then dragged the really irritating chinstrap down and behind my ringing ears, before grabbing her bag and my hand, ready to leave. “She is running around after you…far too much…but enough is certainly more than enough for me…if you put so much as a little toe out of line with me, or at school in general, I will come down on you like a ton of bricks, young lady…am I making myself crystal clear?”
“Yes, Mrs Blackstone…” I mumbled, as she pulled me back out into the corridor, next to the gift shop and the main entrance, where we more or less bumped into a very familiar face. Kelly Hughes, right there, walking towards me. My face, my body and my Nike bag. It was me, and it was too surreal to cope with, to even contemplate. I almost passed out on the spot. It had to be a nightmare. I could feel my heart thumping deep in my chest, as I told myself that I would soon wake up, but there I was, as large as life, right in front of me. And Kelly was smiling like the cat who got the cream, looking me up and down like an exhibit in the museum.
Hadiah
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