Diamond Girls (8 page)

I jumped down off my wall and ran across the alley. I went to the gate and stuck my chin over the top.

‘Hiya!' I said.

She was so startled she nearly fell straight off the swing. She looked back towards her house anxiously. It didn't look real either. It was a big black and white house with a red pointy roof and flowers growing up a trellis in a regular pattern, like wallpaper.

‘It's all right! I'm not going to hurt you. What's your name?'

She stopped swinging, her chin on her chest. ‘Mary,' she said, in this tiny little voice.

‘I'm Dixie,' I said. ‘And this is Bluebell.'

She raised her head a little.

‘Here she is,' I said, holding Bluebell out on one finger over the gate.

She sucked in her breath. ‘A little bird!' she whispered.

‘Yes, she's my budgie. Want to stroke her?'

Mary nodded. She slid off the swing and came over to the gate. I could see she'd been crying. Her blue eyes were very watery and her little lashes were spiky with tears. She sniffed, wiped her eyes carefully and then held up her hand. She had remarkably clean hands with pearly fingernails, as if she was fresh out of the bath. I wished my own fingernails weren't so grimy. I noticed my cardie cuffs were grey too. I turned them over to hide the worst of the dirt.

I dangled Bluebell over the fence. Mary could just about reach. She tickled the back of Bluebell's head with one delicate little finger. Then she stopped, looking worried.

‘Is it … dead?'

‘What? No!'

‘It's cold like it's dead. My kitten's dead now.'

‘Oh, how sad. Is that why you're crying?'

‘No, it died weeks ago. It got run over. It was my fault. I was very bad.'

‘Why was it your fault?'

‘Mummy said I left the front door open.'

‘But you didn't
mean
to.'

‘No, I loved my kitten.'

‘Did you have a funeral? I love funerals. I had this mouse once. It wasn't really a pet mouse, but I caught it and kept it in a box. I tried to make it a special little mouse house and I fed it lots of cheese but it kept trying to eat the cardboard box instead. I should have let it go free but I really wanted a pet and so I kept it and then it died. I turned the house into a coffin and painted it black with a tiny portrait of the mouse on the top in a
little
oval with
REST IN PEACE
underneath. I put the mouse in one of my socks and then lined the coffin with Mum's old silky petticoat and I had a proper funeral. My sister Jude came to it, though she said I was weird. She helped me dig a hole down the rec and we buried the mouse. I made a little cross out of lolly sticks. My other sisters teased me and said I was taking after my dad. He's an embalmer, you see. They always tease me. You know what sisters are like.'

She was staring at me as if I was talking a foreign language.

‘Do you have a sister?'

She shook her head.

‘I'll lend you one of mine if you like! I've got three.'

She took me seriously and shook her head, her little plaits bobbing on her shoulders. They were pulled so tight they looked like they might give her a headache. I could see a little blue vein throbbing on her forehead.

‘Here,' I said, reaching right over the gate to untie a plait for her.

She stepped backwards, fending me off. ‘No! Don't! You mustn't!'

‘I'm only going to loosen your plaits and make them comfier for you.'

‘No! Please don't. I'm not allowed to untie them,' she said.

‘OK. Sorry. You've got very pretty hair. I wish mine was really blonde, not mouse. Rochelle's got blonde hair too. She's the sister next to me. I'm the youngest so far. Until my brother gets born. Have you got any brothers?'

‘There's only me.'

‘That must be so peaceful! And you get brand-new toys
and
clothes and never have to take turns. You can have a go on your swing whenever you want.'

I waited hopefully, wishing she'd invite
me
to have a swing. She didn't take the hint.

I sighed, leaning further over the gate, though it was starting to cut into my chest. ‘We're always arguing, us four. Soon we'll be five. Like I said, my mum's having a baby. She says he's going to be called Sundance but maybe she'll change her mind.'

‘Is Sundance a real name?'

‘Well, it's weird, isn't it? We've all got funny names. Not like Mary. That's a nice sensible name.'

‘It's a holy name. Jesus' mother was called Mary. She was very very holy and good. But I'm not.' Mary hugged her chest. There were goose pimples on her little white stick arms.

‘You're cold. Here, put my cardie on.'

I fiddled with the latch on the gate, and suddenly it swung open. ‘There!' I said, marching in.

Mary looked very worried.

‘It's OK. I'm not going to do anything. I won't even have a swing, not if you don't want me to. I just want to warm you up with my cardie.'

Mary hunched her elbows against her sides so I couldn't get her arms in the sleeves.

‘Go on, I'm ever so warm.'

‘I'm not allowed,' said Mary.

‘Yes you are. I'm not
giving
you my cardie, it's just to warm you up a bit.'

Mary let her arms grow limp. I draped the cardigan round her.

‘There! It's a lovely blue, isn't it? It's gone a bit bobbly
now
but it's still beautiful. My dad bought it for me. Do you have a dad, Mary?'

‘Yes, but he drives a coach so he's not home much,' said Mary. ‘I wish he was home all the time.'

‘Never mind. I don't get to see my dad much at all. He doesn't live with us, see. But it's OK, not having a dad around, just so long as you've got your mum.'

Mary stayed very still. She shivered, even though she was smothered in my cardigan.

I looked over at the swing. I took a step towards it. Mary looked more and more worried.

‘It's OK, Mary. I just want to play.'

‘I'm not really allowed to have someone in to play,' she said. ‘Mummy might be cross.'

‘Ah. Is she in a bit of a mood, then?'

Mary nodded.

‘Well, look, can I just have one teeny swing? Is that all right? You don't mind?'

Mary looked as if she minded very much but she didn't try to stop me. I sat on the white padded seat and kicked my legs. I soared upwards. It was just as good as I'd imagined.

‘Wheeee!' I sang.

‘Shh! She'll hear,' said Mary.

‘OK, OK. Just one little swing more, then I'll go, I promise,' I whispered.

I held the ropes and thrust my feet forwards, flinging back my head until I felt wonderfully dizzy. I felt as if I was flying right over the garden and the red pointy roof. Bluebell flew with me, high into the sky.

Then I saw Mary hunched under my blue cardie. ‘OK, it's all right, you can have a go now,' I said, jumping off.
I
staggered. ‘Hey, look at me, I'm drunk!' I reeled around, putting it on now.

Mary stared but then started giggling.

‘You play at being drunk too, Mary. Pretend to fall over!'

She squatted down obediently but was careful not to crumple her clothes. ‘Daddy got drunk once,' she said.

‘My mum sometimes gets drunk. She gets ever so funny and giggly. But she doesn't drink now, because of the baby. I suppose I'd better go now. I'm helping her get the house sorted. She can't do much because she's so big. Thank you for letting me have a swing.'

‘That's OK.'

‘I'll have to take my cardie back now. Did it warm you up?'

‘Yes.'

‘There, I knew it would! Can I can come and play again?'

‘Well. I suppose. If Mummy doesn't find out.'

‘What's up with your mum then? Is she often in a bad mood?'

Mary blinked. Then she took a deep breath. ‘No, she's a lovely mummy. She's the loveliest kindest nicest mummy in the whole world.'

‘That's good,' I said. ‘Well, bye, Mary.' I made Bluebell give Mary's nose a very gentle peck. ‘That's the way budgies say goodbye,' I said.

Mary giggled. ‘You are funny, Dixie.'

I pulled a silly face at her and staggered out of her garden, pretending to be drunk again. Then I dashed back across the alleyway, leaped up and over the wall at the very first go, and went back through the jungle.

‘
My
mum's the loveliest, kindest and nicest,' I said to Bluebell. ‘
And
my dad.'

I pretended that Martine and Rochelle and even Jude didn't exist. I lived in a beautiful black and white house with a garden and a swing with my mum and my dad and my real budgie Bluebell. I had my very own bedroom with a sky-blue ceiling and a rainbow round each wall. The carpet was green as grass with an indoor swing so I could soar backwards and forwards across my room.

Mum and Dad loved each other for ever and they loved me too. They said they didn't want to risk having any more children, girls or boys, because they could never never never love them as much as me. Dad still worked in a funeral home, and maybe Mum worked there too, carefully dressing all the dead people and powdering their faces and combing their hair. Each night, if there were any lilies left over from Uncle Bruce's wreaths Mum would plait them into her long black hair and look like a flowery princess.

6

MUM DIDN'T LOOK
like a princess when I went back indoors. She was scrubbing away at the toilet upstairs, sitting on the floor with her legs stuck out comically either side of the loo.

‘Hey, babe,' she said. ‘What have you been up to, eh?'

‘I've been in the garden. And I've made friends with a little girl over the way.'

‘That's nice, darling. OK, are you going to help your old mum?'

‘Yep.' I rolled up my cardie sleeves and started trying to clean the basin. The taps were stiff with black grime that wouldn't come off.

‘Try using an old toothbrush,' said Mum. ‘There's some bathroom stuff in that cardboard box.'

I couldn't find any really old toothbrushes. Rochelle's pink toothbrush was a
bit
bristly.

‘Rochelle will kill you,' said Mum, when I started scrubbing. ‘So what's your new friend called?'

‘Mary. She's very shy. But we played a bit. I think she likes me.'

‘Is she about your age? You could go to school with her.'

‘I don't want to go to school, Mum. I want to stay home and help you. I could look after the baby when he comes.'

‘You need your education, pet.'

We heard Jude shouting outside. Boys were shouting too. There was a lot of swearing, mostly from Jude.

Mum sighed. ‘It looks like living here is going to be an education in itself. Help me up, Dixie. I don't know what's up with Jude but she's effing and blinding fit to show us all up.'

I ran down the stairs in front of Mum. Martine had to catch hold of me as I ran for the door.

‘Hang on, Dixie, there's a whole gang out there. It's not
safe
.'

‘Jude's there,' I said, dodging past Martine.

There were six boys out in the street by the van. Four had hoodie jackets, the hoods pulled over their baseball caps so they looked like fierce birds with beaks. There was one big fat guy with a very rude phrase scribbled across his enormous sweatshirt. The last boy had dark curly hair and a black scarf and an earring, a bit like a pirate. He was standing with his hands on his hips, shaking his head at Jude, looking pitying. Jude was swearing away at him, not seeming to notice she was outnumbered. These weren't boys like the kids at Bletchworth. They were older, and much scarier.

Rochelle was standing beside Jude. She looked angry too, her cheeks bright pink, her eyes glittering. ‘Will you just bog off!' she yelled. She wasn't yelling at the boys. She was yelling at Jude.

‘Yeah, push off, big sister,' said Pirate Boy.

‘OK, when you've stopped hitting on my little sister. Do you know how old she is?
Twelve!
'

‘Shut up, Jude! I'm very nearly thirteen.'

‘And very well developed too, darling,' said Big Fat Guy.

‘You talk to her like that and I'll punch you straight in your fat chops,' said Jude.

He said worse. Some very rude things about Rochelle
and
Jude. Her fist clenched and she punched him right on the chin. He shook his head, looking dazed.

‘Right, she's asked for it,' said one of the Hoodies. ‘Let's teach the stroppy little cow a lesson.'

Two of his mates seized Jude by the shoulders and slammed her up against Bruce's van. Jude lifted her leg and tried to kick them, but the others caught her. The first Hoodie stepped forward, grinning.

‘Leave her be, she's only a silly little kid,' said Pirate Boy.