Page 83 of Repluse

“You sure it’s the chicken and not…?”

“I’m not pregnant. I knew you’d think that. I’m surprised?—”

“Yeah, he’s not the only one.” Frankie interrupts whatever Mila was about to say as he walks in carrying FiFi on his hip. “Back pocket,” he says as he turns his arse to me. “I picked it up from the supermarket when I went to the bakers this morning.”

I pull the white paper bag from his back pocket and look inside to see the pregnancy test box. I look from Mila to Frankie, who shrugs.

“Have you not noticed the size of her boobs? The only time they’re that big is…”

“Mummy’s got big boobies. I want big boobies,” FiFi says as she attempts to wriggle out of Frankie’s arms.

“No, you don’t,” I tell my daughter.

“Not happening. Not ever, princess.”

She pouts and wriggles harder.

“Finish that bottle, then do this.” I pull the test from the bag and place it down next to Mila.

“What’s them ones, Mummu? I is hungry. Down, Daddy, down,” FiFi demands, no doubt thinking there’s something edible in the box.

Mila holds out her hand, and I pull her up from the floor. She puts the lid down on the toilet and sits on it. Frankie hands Feef over to her, and she wraps her in her arms.

“It’s okay, Mumma. Drink your water. It’ll make you belly better.”

“Thank you, baby girl. I will.”

“You drink you water, I eat you lollies.”

“There are no lollies in there, bub. Just something to help us find out what’s wrong with Mumma’s belly,” I tell her.

“Where are the boys?” Mila asks.

“Playroom, watching a show,” Frankie tells her.

Her eyes slice between the three of us. “Are you gonna be pi—peed off with me if I’m pregnant?” she asks.

“Of course not.” I lean in to kiss her, but she puts up her hand to stop me.

“Vomit breath, remember?”

“I was going to kiss the top of your head, not lick your tonsils.”

She screws up her nose in disgust.

“Why would we be mad?” Frankie asks as he leans against the sink with his arms folded across his chest, legs crossed at the ankles. “Worried, yeah. Fucking terrified, but not mad.”

FiFi cups Mila’s ear and whispers loudly, “Daddy said a sweary word. Can I make him pay?”

“Go for it,” Mils whispers loudly back before sliding Feef to the floor. She runs on her chubby legs to Frankie and holds out her palm.

“You say fucking, you have to pay…”

“FiFi!” Mila.

“Feefs!” Me.

“Princess, we don’t repeat that word,” Frankie tells her.

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