Secrets (14 page)

I couldn't see a single kid playing out in Parkfield, not even skipping in their lovely landscaped gardens. Perhaps the old people were sellotaped to the sofas inside their granny flats and all the children banished to boarding school. Everyone is hidden away.

I'm hidden too!

Twelve

India

I COULDN'T BELIEVE
it!

I had Treasure on my mind all through tea. I kept thinking of that horrible man and how he could hurt her. It made me feel so bad I couldn't eat much. I wouldn't really have fancied it anyway. It was one of Mum's special salads, a circle of cottage cheese in the centre of the plate, then a ring of pineapple, then carrot, cucumber and celery sticks like petals on a flower, then a fan of lettuce leaves either side, artistically arranged in shades of green and purple.

I nibbled the chunks of pineapple and left the rest.

‘India? Why aren't you eating your salad?'

‘I'm not hungry.'

Mum gave a silly laugh.

‘Nonsense, darling, you're always hungry.'

‘OK, OK, I'm always hungry,' I said. ‘Only I just don't
happen
to be ravenous at this precise moment in time. And I doubt if a totally starving person would ever eat a mound of cottage cheese with gusto. Especially as it looks as if it's been eaten already and regurgitated by an anaemic alien.'

‘That's enough, India! Less of the smart talk. Just eat!'

‘For God's sake, leave the kid alone, Moya,' said Dad. ‘She can't help it if she can't stick rabbit food.'

He gave me a significant wink to show me that
he
understood that pasta and ice-cream were my favourites. He wasn't making much headway with his own salad, though Mum allowed three slices of honey-glazed ham on his plate. It's a wonder she hadn't carved them into three little pink pigs.

We sat there, staring at our plates. Mum toyed with her own salad, eating with her fork in her right hand, American style, because she thinks it's more dainty. Wanda put her own fork down and asked if she could be excused as she was going out early with Suzi.

‘Thank goodness,' said Mum, when Wanda was scarcely out of earshot. ‘That girl is so
depressing
. I think we're going to have to get rid of her.'

I looked at Dad. He chewed his ham, his face carefully expressionless. Then he swallowed.

‘Yes, she is a bit of a drag,' he said. ‘See if you can find some kind way of sending her packing. Concern
for
her health, shame that she's homesick, something along those lines.'

I couldn't believe it. He was betraying Wanda so casually. He didn't love her one little bit. He was bored with her so Mum was doing him a big favour. I felt so sorry for Wanda, even though
I
don't like her much either and don't really want her to stay.

‘What
is
it, India?' Mum said.

I realized I'd been sighing. Dad looked at me anxiously.

‘Nothing.'

‘I do wish you'd buck up a bit. You seem so doleful recently. Bella says you've been writing really weird letters to Miranda.'

I felt my face flush as pink as Dad's ham.

‘What do you mean, weird? And how does Bella know? Does Miranda show them to her?'

‘Now now, calm down. Why do you always have to get in such a state about things? Miranda just happened to mention that you sounded rather lonely. You said you were missing her a great deal.'

‘No I'm not. I don't miss her one little bit.'

‘Oh, India. Typical! I've just been trying to fix up for us to have Miranda to stay one weekend.'

‘Well you can unfix things, Mum, because I can't stick Miranda. I've got another friend now.'

I couldn't stop my tongue saying it. Mum looked up. Even Dad seemed interested. They both had their heads tilted to one side to indicate a question. I knew I couldn't give them any real answers.

‘Come on then. Tell us about her. Do you want to invite her round for tea sometime?' said Mum.

‘No!'

‘Is she in your form at school?'

‘Well . . .'

‘What's her name?'

‘Look, don't go
on
about her,' I said, and I got up and rushed out of the room.

I heard them talking about me as I went up the stairs.

‘Oh dear, why does she always have to be so prickly?' said Mum. ‘Do you think she's
really
got a friend at school at last?'

‘That school! I simply can't manage those school fees any more.'

‘Well,
I'll
pay them if it's such a problem – though I'm sure you're exaggerating all your financial difficulties.'

They started arguing about work and money and forgot all about me. I went upstairs and stared miserably out of my window. I thought about Anne. I love the passage in her diary where she says she can't bear her mother and wishes she could slap her. But Anne always loves her father and looks up to him so much. I suppose I still love my dad but I can't respect him any more.

I leant my forehead against the cold glass, looking down the long avenue. It looked pretty bleak, grey pavement, bare brown trees, cream stucco and beige brick houses – and a little flash of red. I stared. It was
Treasure!
She was trudging along, her face white and screwed up, her fringe tangled, showing her ugly scar.

I tapped on the window. She couldn't hear me, wasn't even looking at my house. I struggled with the safety catch, wrenching my fingers. I got it open just as she was walking past.

‘Treasure!' I hissed.

She spun round, head jerking to left and right.

‘I'm up here!'

She looked up and spotted me.

‘India!' she said joyfully.

‘
Sh!
' I put my finger to my lips. ‘Wait there! I'll be down in a sec.'

She stood still, waiting obediently. I gave her a little wave and then flew across my bedroom, crept along the landing, and edged down the stairs.

I didn't want Mum and Dad to meet Treasure. I knew exactly what they'd be like. They'd think they were being
sooo
nice. ‘Oh, Treasure! What an unusual name! But
lovely
.'

‘Where do you live, poppet? Oh, the Latimer Estate! I've heard they're really attractive flats once you get inside. They've got a lot of character – in their way.'

‘So
you're
India's friend, are you? Well, you must come and play as often as you like. Don't feel shy, will you? You'll always be very welcome. Really.'

I knew what they'd say after she was gone too.

No, I was determined to keep Treasure all to myself. Mum and Dad were still busy rowing. They'd closed the dining-room door so I couldn't hear. That meant
they
couldn't hear me! I crept across the hall, opened the door, left it on the latch, and shot down the drive to Treasure.

‘Treasure! This is so great!
I
went looking for you, but you weren't at your nan's. I saw him, your mum's boyfriend, and he's so scary!'

‘You can say that again,' said Treasure. She tried to sound like she was joking but her voice wobbled.

‘What's he done to you, Treasure?'

‘Nothing this time. I got away. But he's still there, at Nan's. I can't go back. I can't . . .'

She started crying, though she kept wiping her eyes fiercely with her fists.

I put my arms round her. She was shivering inside her scarlet coat. She felt so
small
. She made me feel big and powerful. I knew I had to protect her. I had to save her from that hateful monster. I had to hide her.

And then it came to me.

It was so wondrously simple.

Treasure was like Anne Frank.

‘Come with me, Treasure!' I said, tugging at her.

‘I – I can't. I don't want to meet your mum, not like this. I look a mess,' said Treasure, sniffing and wiping.

‘You're not going to meet her. You'd hate her anyway. No, you're coming with
me
. But keep quiet, eh?'

Treasure still looked doubtful, but she let me pull her up the drive and in through the door. She peered round the hall, her head swivelling.

‘It's OK,' I whispered, nodding towards the closed
dining-room
door. Dad and Mum were still at it. Dad said something and Mum suddenly yelled furiously. Treasure's mouth dropped open.

‘Is that your mum?' she whispered. ‘She's swearing!'

‘She often does. She thinks it's cool,' I said scornfully. ‘Come on.'

I took her by the hand and lead her up the stairs. Treasure peered round at all the paintings as if she was in a museum. She stopped when we got to the alabaster boy on his pedestal on the landing.

‘Look at his little willy!' she giggled. She gave it a quick flick with her finger.

‘Come
on
,' I said, pulling her past.

I took her up the stairs again.

‘Your house is
huge
,' said Treasure. ‘Which one's your bedroom?'

‘It's that one, but I want you to—'

She wasn't listening. She peeped inside my bedroom and then just stood there, silent. Her eyes blinked rapidly behind her glasses.

‘Oh India!' she gasped. It was as if all the breath had been sucked out of her.

‘It's a bit of a mess,' I said quickly, shoving Edwina Bear under my pillow and kicking yesterday's socks and knickers under my bed.

‘It's beautiful,' said Treasure.

She walked very carefully over to my bed, as if she was scared her trainers might mark the crimson carpet. It is a great bed, I suppose, like a four-poster in
a
fairy tale with black barley-sugar posts with little frogs carved on the top. It's got black satin hangings tied with crimson ribbons and a black satin patchwork quilt with little beads and buttons appliqued to each patch. It was my tenth birthday present. I thought it was pretty special at the time but now I suppose I've got used to it. There's a dressing-table too, black, with red lightbulbs all round the mirror, and each drawer has a tiny frog's head at either end of the handle.

Treasure glanced at herself in the mirror, wiped her nose quickly, and tried to flatten her fringe over her forehead. Then she walked over to the wardrobe. There are frogs carved into the black wood, hopping in spirals. Treasure traced them with her finger, looked at me for permission, and opened the wardrobe door. She stared at all the clothes stuffed inside. I wondered if she minded having to wear really tacky clothes like her red coat. I thought about offering her some of my stuff – but of course they'd all be too big.

I knew the clothes that
would
fit her.

‘Come with me, Treasure,' I said.

I led her out of my room – though she kept looking back longingly – along the corridor to the attic steps. I clambered up, got the trapdoor open, and switched on the light. Treasure climbed after me, panting a little. I had to help haul her up.

She lay on the floor breathing heavily.

‘Treasure? Treasure, are you all right?'

‘It's just my asthma. I haven't got my inhaler. I dropped my bag when Terry came after me. Oh help!'

She sat up slowly, trying to take deep breaths. I patted her gently on the back to express sympathy. She wriggled away, giggling again.

‘It's like I'm a baby being burped! I think I'm OK now. Have you got any pets, India? I'm a bit allergic to animals. Ha, that's why I can't stick Terry!'

‘There's Tabitha, our old cat. But it's all right, she never comes up here. No-one does. That's the beauty of it! This can be
your
room, Treasure!'

She looked round at the clothes and the trunks and the boxes of books, bewildered.

‘We'll fix it up. I'll bring all sorts of stuff. The armchair's quite comfy, I sit here myself sometimes. There's a camp bed, look, and a spare duvet – or you can have my pretty patchwork quilt if you like, I don't mind a bit.'

Treasure was walking slowly round the attic.

‘What do you mean, it's my room?'

‘You can hide here. It's a secret attic. You know, like Anne Frank.'

Treasure stared at me.

‘But what about your mum and dad and this Wanda?'

‘They won't ever find you. They never come up here. They don't notice a thing anyway. You can stay as long as you like, until that horrible man gives up and goes away.'

‘Oh India, you're a true friend,' said Treasure, and she clasped my hands.

I squeezed her tightly back, so happy I wanted the
moment
to last for ever. But I had to get busy getting Treasure settled for the night.

‘I'll be right back,' I said, rushing off.

I hung over the landing to hear if Mum and Dad were still quarrelling. I wasn't sure when Wanda might get back either. I had to be quick.