My Side of the Diamond

by Sally Gardner

  ‘Who?’ said Mari, coming in with the tea.

  ‘Icarus,’ said Becky.

  Mari went pale and I thought she was going to drop the tray. I went to help her.

  ‘That’s a name from the past,’ said Tom. ‘No one can see Icarus, Becky, love. He’s still in prison.’

  We had tea. Becky played with a slice of fruit cake.

  ‘Eat up, Becks,’ said Alex. He was sitting next to me on the sofa.

  ‘I can’t,’ she said. ‘I keep hearing this voice in my head and it won’t go away.’

  ‘What does it say, this voice of yours?’ asked Tom.

  Becky didn’t reply. She closed her eyes and then I nearly jumped out of my skin. For a nightmare of a moment I thought the red-eyed man was in the house, but the voice was coming from Becky, thick with the sound of cobwebs. Her breath was short, her eyes tight closed.

  ‘Tell Icarus I have risen – and I will kill him.’

  Jake and Ben stared at her in wonder; I stared at her in horror. The spot on her forehead had started to bleed again. Alex reached for my hand.

  To my surprise, Mari said, ‘Who are you?’

  ‘I am Doubleday,’ said the voice.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  ‘Are you going to speak funny again?’ asked Jake.

  The twins were eating their cereal when Becky came down, still clutching her rucksack. Ben imitated the voice they’d heard last night and Becky stared at them as if they were Martians.

  ‘Come on, you two monkeys, eat up,’ said Tom, and before they could say another word, ‘The car, now, or you’ll be late for your sailing lesson.’

  They stampeded out of the house and the door slammed behind them.

  I was more than pleased to see them go. Last night, Mari and Tom had done their best to make light of Becky’s behaviour for the boys’ sake, though there was nothing light about it.

  ‘How are you feeling?’ asked Mari, examining Becky’s forehead. The spot had vanished.

  ‘Fine,’ said Becky.

  ‘Fine’ is an awful word. It didn’t describe Becky and it didn’t describe how we were all feeling.

  Mari sat with us at the kitchen table.

  ‘Something is going on, Alex,’ she said. ‘Tell me, for goodness’ sake. Tell me, I won’t be cross.’

  One lie, two lies, and all truth lies shattered.

  ‘Are you keeping something important from me?’

  I felt like shouting, ‘Yes, yes – there’s a hell of a lot more to all this. The trouble is, no one is ever going to believe us.’

  But Alex took a different tack. ‘You’ve seen that painting before, haven’t you, Mum?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Mari. ‘Yes, a long time ago, in Phoebe Berry’s flat in London. I asked her who the subject was and how she knew him. I found out later that she’d met Icarus wandering on the beach at Shingle Street. Becky – where did you find the painting?’

  I longed for Becky to speak, to finally mouth the truth. I felt if anyone was likely to understand all the strangeness it would be Mari. I could see Becky struggling with the idea. Just as she got to the first word, the doorbell rang. What do comedians tell you about timing? But this was no comedy, it couldn’t be, the timing was all wrong. I thought it must be Sergeant Fisher and was bracing myself for another onslaught of questions when an unexpected hurricane blew in. Simon and Tess.

  Tess glanced round the house with a glint of approval, then, ignoring Mari, went to Becky.

  ‘Oh my God, Becky, darling, how terrible!’ she said. ‘Are you all right? It must’ve been so frightening.’

  Simon couldn’t ignore Mari and smiled at her sheepishly.

  ‘We came as soon as we could,’ he said. Mari said nothing. Which didn’t deter Simon one little bit. Someone had to talk; silence was not appropriate. Nobly, Simon took on the task. ‘I spoke to Detective August this morning. He said it wasn’t a regular sort of robbery.’

  ‘It wasn’t a robbery.’ Me and my big mouth could be up there for the Oscars. Simon took no notice.

  ‘He also told me that he believes that you all know more than you let on.’

  Simon was just getting into his stride, about to gear up to righteous indignation. When I was small I thought righteous indignation was an indigestion tablet. Funny how often a child gets something right even when it’s wrong.

  ‘We drove straight up here,’ interrupted Tess. ‘I couldn’t believe what the police said, the kitchen trashed.’

  Tess’s main concern was that Becky should go back to London right away; there was no question of her staying in Orford on her own.

  ‘She’s not on her own,’ said Simon. ‘She has Jazmin.’

  Tess chose to ignore this fact.

  In all the argy-bargy the wishes of Becky herself seemed to have been forgotten. Simon put his arm around her and she stiffened.

  ‘I don’t want to go to London,’ she said.

  Her father looked relieved. ‘I think,’ he said, ‘if you’re happy to stay up here with Jazmin –’ he turned to me as if the two thousand pounds had bought him an ally for life – ‘then maybe it’s for the best. I’ve spoken to a builder and he said that he would look in and see the damage for himself. I’m having a better alarm system fitted,’ he added, as if that would guarantee our safety.

  You morons, I wanted to shout at him and Tess. Both of you are complete basket cases. Of course Becky shouldn’t return to the house.

  ‘Mari,’ said Simon, ‘you’ll keep an eye on them?’

  That he hadn’t mentioned Alex should have been a sign of what was about to come. I’d noticed when I’d lived with the Burnses that Simon worked on the principle that someone was always to blame. The vortex of the storm was about to surround Alex.

  ‘Simon, I think Becky should stay here with Mum and Tom,’ Alex said. ‘She saw someone in the garden last night.’

  Simon, who I’d never seen angry before, turned a greyish blue. Only his nose remained red.

  ‘I wasn’t going to mention it,’ he said. Now he was going to mention it. ‘Detective August thinks that the intruder Becky thought she saw was a hallucination brought on by taking an illegal substance, and that it was you who dismantled the kitchen units. He doesn’t believe that anyone else was involved. There were no fingerprints or footprints other than yours and Becky’s and Jazmin’s. The girls wouldn’t have had the strength to cause so much destruction. So that leaves you. Frankly, Alex, I feel you should contribute to the cost of rebuilding the kitchen.’

  I said, a little too quickly, ‘Alex hasn’t done anything wrong.’

  ‘Did you supply the girls with drugs, Alex?’ continued Simon.

  ‘No, he didn’t,’ I said. ‘We ate popcorn. Popcorn is not an illegal substance.’

  Alex was furious. ‘I don’t do drugs, Simon.’

  Tess turned to me. ‘Then was it you who supplied the drugs?’

  I should have seen that coming. Why not blame the girl from the council estate?

  Simon ignored Tess. ‘I want all of you to tidy up the house before the builders arrive. I don’t want any excuses from any of you, especially not you, Alex, who I hold totally responsible for all that has happened.’

  Mari had had enough. ‘Why do you always think everything is Alex’s fault? You blame him when anything goes wrong. He is eighteen years old and very responsible. You’ve been no sort of father to him and you have no right to come barging in here, accusing him of taking drugs. You have no evidence and neither does that blinkered detective.’

  Go Mari, go girl, I thought. She was building up for a major argument and I could see Simon wanted to avoid having a major argument in front of Tess. By the look on Tess’s face, I think it was just dawning on her that Simon had married, had a child with and left two women, and it was likely she was going to be the next in line. Or as Becky had said, with a terrible French accent, ‘the turd wife’. That had made me laugh.

  Having won the pathetic argument, Simon and Tess spiralled out of our
lives, leaving Alex completely flattened.

  ‘He’s a shit,’ he said. ‘He always thinks the worst of me.’

  Mari said, ‘And he’s always wrong, love. He may be your biological father but he’s not the one you call Dad.’

  ‘Yeah, I know,’ said Alex. ‘But still, it bugs me.’

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Mari gave us lunch and said she would come and help us clean up the house. I tell you, that seemed like the best idea we’d heard all morning. We needed someone to be with us, that was for shizzle.

  Ziggy the dog looked fed up to be left behind but it turned out to be a good thing we didn’t take him. I don’t remember that we said a lot on the journey back to Orford. We were all lost in our own thoughts. It was just as we neared the village that Mari’s mobile rang. It was Tom to say he’d had to leave work to go to Ipswich Hospital – there’d been an accident during the sailing class. Jake had broken his leg and needed an operation.

  ‘I have to go,’ Mari said. ‘I’m sorry, will you be all right?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Alex. ‘You sure you don’t want me to come with you, Mum?’

  I often wonder what would have happened if she had said yes. You don’t always see paths clearly, but that was another path, the path not taken. If only he had gone, what then?

  Mari said, ‘No, stay with the girls. I’ll call you this evening to see how you’re doing.’

  I watched her reverse the car and drive away. I had this sinking feeling that with her all hope of this ending well was fast disappearing in exhaust fumes.

  As we arrived at the house, Alex noticed a car outside.

  ‘You don’t see many of those Ford Orions,’ he said.

  I don’t care much for cars. As long as they move, don’t break down, have enough seats, that’s good enough for me.

  Becky only glanced at it.

  The minute we entered the house, we knew something was wrong. The place was eerily spick and span. As for the kitchen, it was as if nothing had happened, apart from two of the cabinet doors that were hanging off their hinges.

  ‘I don’t like this,’ said Becky. ‘I don’t like this one little …’

  I’ve never been that keen on clichés, and Becky didn’t manage to finish hers because we could see through the hall into the lounge, where stood two men. They both wore suits in varying degrees of dark. They both wore mirrored sunglasses. They didn’t look like the police; I know what the police look like. No, those two creeps were different – more frightening by a mile. I didn’t doubt that they were there for a purpose and I had a horrible feeling the purpose was us.

  ‘Who are you and how did you get in?’ asked Alex.

  The one in the lighter suit took out three business cards and handed one to each of us. On them was printed Darkstar Programme Security and a telephone number. There were no names, nothing to identify them individually. I wondered if the backs of their heads would be transparent, like the red-eyed man’s.

  ‘We believe,’ said the one in the darker suit, ‘that you have found Doubleday.’

  That name again.

  ‘Who the hell is Doubleday?’ said Alex.

  The two suited men took no notice of Alex’s outburst.

  ‘I believe both of you,’ said the lighter suit, looking directly at Becky and me, ‘know exactly who I am talking about. Only Alex is unaware of who Doubleday is.’

  Alex picked up the phone. ‘I am calling the police. You have no right to break in here.’

  ‘Put the phone down, Alex,’ said the lighter suit. ‘Don’t do anything you would come to regret. The police know nothing about Doubleday. But they do know that you three took drugs. Also that you claimed the house was broken into, the bedroom door smashed, that the kitchen was demolished, when obviously it wasn’t. As you can see, only two cabinet doors are damaged.’

  ‘The police took pictures, there is evidence,’ said Alex.

  ‘You are mistaken,’ said the darker suit.

  ‘Drugs can do that,’ said the lighter suit.

  ‘We didn’t take drugs,’ said Alex.

  ‘Whether you did or whether you didn’t is entirely up to you three.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ said Becky.

  ‘It is simple. Let us know the minute you see Doubleday and I can assure you the whole incident will be struck from police records. All you have to do is call the number on the card.’

  They had this strange, antique way of talking, as if by pronouncing every word properly, no words would be wasted or misunderstood.

  ‘Are you talking about that half-man, half-cyborg thing with red eyes?’ I said.

  ‘Precisely.’

  ‘This is a load of rubbish,’ said Alex. ‘I don’t know who you are but I suggest you get out now.’

  The dark suit said, ‘You wouldn’t want another accident to happen to your family, would you, Alex?’

  ‘What do you –’ Alex stopped mid-sentence.

  ‘Jake might have drowned. If you don’t do as you’re asked, your brothers – or even your stepfather – might not be so lucky next time. For instance, Tom could be made to disappear, never to be seen again. You wouldn’t want that, would you, Alex?’

  Alex dialled 999 on the house phone. The two men didn’t move. They stood, waiting. Alex put the phone down. The line was dead.

  I followed those two creeps out of the house, watched them climb into their car. It set off fast and noiselessly. As I said, I don’t know much about cars, but this one could move.

  Alex was in the kitchen, looking pale.

  ‘Are you going to tell me now what the fuck is going on?’

  I looked at Becky, hoping that she would tell him. For goodness’ sake, Alex of all people deserved the truth, especially after what those two men had said. How could we not tell him about Doubleday? I didn’t doubt that he would believe us.

  But Becky stalled with a clump of umms and errs and so many aahs, I felt like throttling her.

  ‘Come on, Becks,’ I said. ‘Spit it out.’

  ‘All right,’ she said at last, and she told Alex how we’d found Doubleday.

  She finished, giving me a look as if to say ‘that’s enough’. She’d left out the portrait. OK, I thought. The portrait could just have been there by coincidence – you know, moons lining up and all that crap. But I didn’t believe that for a moment and the more I’d thought about it, the more certain I’d become that the portrait was connected to Doubleday in some way. I mean, I doubt that Doubleday had gone into the pantry for chutney. It was as bare as Old Mother Hubbard’s cupboard apart from the painting of Icarus and a pair of shoes. And no, Mr Jones, those shoes didn’t belong to Doubleday. I’m no style guru but they didn’t go with his outfit.

  I was thinking all this when Alex said, ‘Anything else I need to know?’

  Yes, I thought. Yes.

  Becky said, ‘No – except this.’

  She took the stone from her rucksack and handed it to him. The look of surprise on his face would’ve been wicked any other time than this. He immediately dropped it, and as he did, it vanished. He was on the verge of saying sorry and stopped. It had reappeared and was lying at his feet. He picked it up, turned it over, studied it.

  ‘Who gave you this?’ he asked. Then said, ‘No, don’t tell me. Let me guess – Icarus.’

  The phone rang in the kitchen and we all jumped. Alex picked it up. It was Tom. He listened, was silent for a moment, and then asked how the accident had happened.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  I’m not sure I can go on with this.

  Mr Jones, I’ve been trying to imagine that I’m just telling you a story, one that doesn’t affect me. But it does. It eats at my soul. I long to find a safe place where I can lock up these memories and throw away the key … I’m sorry. It’s stupid to cry. It’s just that for the last eleven years, I’ve been walking around with these tin cans rattling behind me. It’s a joke, really. Do you know how many job interviews I’ve been to? Made it to the last two ap
plicants, then, when they realise … My past, they tell me, makes me unsuitable. I’m the unreliable witness, my narrative discounted by lawyers, scientists, doctors. In short, they wouldn’t trust me with a £10 note. Ten good GCSEs – and I’m grateful to have got a cleaning job at that new tower.

  Thanks – that’s kind of you. It’s a good hanky. I’m afraid I’ll make a mess of it.

  You do ask the strangest questions, Mr Jones. I don’t know if it’s good to cry, I only know I don’t like crying. I’ve kept it all in for so long.

  Mari has never spoken to me again, not since … not since that day. It really hurt, a spoon digging out your insides kind of pain. I tried to explain to her. She said she didn’t want to know, she said she wished it was me who had vanished off the face of the earth.

  Are you seeing Mari again? I suppose next it’ll be the Cleanest Chimney Sweep in Suffolk?

  Mark had a rotten time of it, poor bugger. He’s quite a recluse these days, lives in a cottage in the middle of nowhere. Who can blame him?

  Give me a moment to pull myself together. We’re coming to the part that no one believed. My evidence was torn to shreds at the inquest and everyone was convinced I was a fantasist. You’ll most probably think the same. Sure you want to hear it?

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Those two creeps had been right. Jake was lucky to be alive.

  We were all seated around the kitchen table, thinking what to do and failing to come up with a plan, when the phone rang again. This time it was Simon. Alex immediately put him on speaker, so we could all hear Simple Simon’s words of wisdom.

  ‘Look, Alex, I overreacted. I thought the kitchen had been totally trashed. Tess and me hadn’t had a chance to stop in at the house until we were heading back from Mari’s. Two cupboard doors, ridiculous. The police exaggerated the whole incident. I am going to … hold on, look, I’ll call you back.’

  ‘No, you won’t,’ said Alex, but Simon was gone.

  When I was little, Mr Jones, I was taken on holiday to the seaside. I’d never seen the sea before. I saw these people splashing about in the waves, laughing, and I thought, that’s what I want to do. So I just walked into the water – no armbands, no rubber ring, no nothing, sank like a stone. My mum rescued me then, but I think I knew after Simon’s call that there was no one to rescue us and the three of us were completely out of our depth.