My Side of the Diamond

by Sally Gardner

  Icarus was sent to prison and I thought he would remain behind bars until he died. Too late, I found out that prison bars couldn’t hold him, that Alex, Becky and Jazmin had met him. Alex called me and said that he and the girls were going to London. I didn’t think anything of it. I was so worried about Jake. He had broken his leg very badly … Oh, Mr Jones, I’m wrong to be so angry with Jazmin, I know that. But the person I am most furious with is myself. It was so easy at the time to blame her – after all, everyone else did. The simple, terrible truth is, I didn’t speak up when I could have done.

  Do you know how often I think about … oh, lord, sorry, I don’t mean to cry … all these years, it’s been driving me crazy. I wake up some mornings and think I will go to London and tell Jazmin that I’m sorry, truly sorry that I didn’t speak up … but I can’t.

  JAZMIN LITTLE

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  I was just about to leave a note to tell you I’m off, and to say I’m sorry but I won’t be able to see you again. And here you are. I’m pleased you came, Mr Jones.

  No, I am, I’m really pleased. I feel we have unfinished business.

  I thought you might not want to hear any more from me after I became a blubbering wreck.

  Did you see Mari?

  No doubt she told you I was unreliable and totally responsible for what happened.

  I wanted to tell you in person my side of the story after Icarus was wounded, after Doubleday had killed the minicab driver. After I discovered the letter. Maybe if I tell it the way I remember it, I’ll have some peace at last.

  You know, you’ve never answered a single one of my questions. But I want to ask you this: how does anyone know who is the villain and who is the goodie? Many see me as the villain. But where does that leave Icarus? Maybe we are all responsible for what happened, every one of us.

  I was thinking recently about barbed wire. It was invented by an American for cattle, way back in the days of old. Should he be held accountable for its use in concentration camps? What I am trying to ask is this: am I the baddie, or was it Icarus who caused the death of Skye and Lazarus, and … oh, sorry, here I go again.

  But it’s not only Becky’s death that’s screwed me up. I keep not mentioning it, walking round it – a bloody dinosaur that doesn’t even fit in the room, makes elephants look manageable. The bit that tears me up is, I don’t know what happened. No one believed that, no one.

  That’s another hanky I owe you, Mr Jones. You see, the thing is, I loved – I love – will love no one else. I’m like a wood pigeon – paired for life. He loved me, I know he did. I would give anything – anything to see him again.

  Oh, thank you – tea with a bit of sugar. Sorry, this is all much harder … The trouble is, none of these wounds have healed. When I remember it, I’m there, right back there. Ask me what I did yesterday and I haven’t a clue.

  Give me a moment, then I’ll carry on …

  OK.

  After Icarus was wounded, Mark stayed with him until tea-time the next day. Becky was with them most of the time, and Alex and me sat cuddled up in the sitting room, wondering what we were going to do.

  ‘Surely by now,’ I said, ‘someone must’ve noticed that Icarus has escaped from the open prison. Electric bells ringing, wardens running, police road blocks, that kind of thing – high drama.’

  We looked on the news. There was nothing.

  Mark came down the stairs.

  ‘I’m taking Icarus away,’ he said.

  ‘Away where?’ said Alex and me together.

  ‘Back to prison, I hope,’ I added. ‘Before he pushes someone else off St Paul’s.’

  Alex looked worried. ‘What about us?’ he said. ‘What if Doubleday decides that the way to get to Icarus is to use Becky, and turns up here?’

  I could tell by Mark’s expression that this had become very messy indeed for the Cleanest Chimney Sweep in Suffolk.

  Before Mark could answer, I realised Icarus had come quietly into the room, Becky at his side. He looked surprisingly well, drop-dead handsome – and I wouldn’t have trusted him with a pet budgerigar.

  ‘I didn’t push Skye and Lazarus from the Golden Gallery,’ he said to me. ‘I helped them.’

  ‘Didn’t that amount to the same thing?’ I said.

  ‘If they had fallen, yes. But they didn’t. Our craft collected them.’

  I wasn’t quite buying all this. Or rather, I did, but only when Icarus was talking to me, when his dark eyes were on me.

  ‘Why didn’t you go with them?’

  ‘Because then our whole mission would have failed.’

  I was hoping that Mark would say, ‘Come off it Icarus, not that old horse chestnut,’ but he didn’t.

  He said, ‘Alex is right. It isn’t safe here for any of you.’

  ‘Who are you?’ I asked Mark.

  ‘Look … it’s not important who I am,’ said Mark. ‘There isn’t time to explain. You have to trust me, you’ll all have to trust me. I’ve planned how I’m going to get Icarus out of here.’

  This was made to look very different at the inquest. I was accused of being the ringleader but I wasn’t. If I am honest, I wanted us to go back to Mari and Tom’s. But Icarus said if Doubleday found us there he could cause a lot of harm and his handlers would make sure of one thing – that the incident wasn’t reported. Mark told us they had carte blanche from the British and American governments. No questions asked. I could see Alex thinking about his family.

  Becky said, ‘I’m not leaving Icarus.’

  So that put the kibosh to Mark’s plan of taking Icarus away from there by himself.

  It was dusk. We hadn’t yet turned on the lights, and the room lit up neon blue as a police car sped past with its light flashing. It felt like a warning. Time to go.

  Mark had parked his van round the back of the house. He said he’d take us to Ipswich station. Becky and me grabbed a few possessions and we all climbed in the van. Mark turned on the radio as we drove off and if we were in any doubt about leaving, what we heard put an end to it. The local news was reporting that a punk with a mohican had stolen a police car. An unidentified, mutilated body had been found in Rendlesham Forest but the two incidents were not thought to be related.

  ‘We should go to London,’ said Icarus.

  I remembered that I still had the keys to my mum’s old flat in Camden. As long as no one had moved in, we could hang out there for a while.

  ‘Not for long,’ I said.

  ‘But long enough,’ said Icarus.

  It went hard against me in court. I’ve thought about what other options there were. Oh my word, haven’t I thought about it. The big dipper of possibilities has rolled and coasted through my head and still does. That bloodied path not taken.

  I didn’t wholly trust the Cleanest Chimney Sweep in Suffolk. I had a feeling he was playing both sides. I changed my mind at the inquest, especially after they did what they did to him. If I thought I’d had it bad, it was nothing compared to what they did to his testimony.

  We sat in the back of the van and Becky rested her head on Icarus’s shoulder. The two of them looked exhausted.

  Mark said he wanted to stop in Ipswich and we made a detour to a party shop. He knocked on the side door and came out with these animal onesies, brand new, still in their packets.

  ‘Put them on,’ he said.

  ‘Come on, man,’ said Alex. ‘You are kidding. Everyone will look at us.’

  Mark said, ‘But they will only remember the animal suits, not who was in them. Believe me. Now, hurry.’

  Mine was a zebra suit, Alex’s a fox, Icarus’s a tiger, and Becky’s a black cat.

  I thought it was a potty idea but Mark wasn’t listening to any of it. He said when we got to London we should throw them away as soon as we were out of Liverpool Street Station. And that we were to ring him once a day on a cheap mobile he gave us. I wondered how it was that Mark was so good at all this spook stuff.

  Actually, I quite liked
wearing that zebra suit. It was a chilly summer’s night when we caught the train to London. We arrived late at Liverpool Street Station where we fitted in perfectly: just some crazy students out on a wild one.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  The Darwin Estate where I grew up couldn’t have been better named – only the fittest survived there. It’s not in the posh part of Camden, more round the corner near Kentish Town. It was a bit of a gamble but I couldn’t see anyone moving into my mum’s pokey two-bedroom flat in a hurry, and fortunately I was right. It was empty except for the smell of stale tobacco and a pile of junk mail. It looked dead strange without furniture. There were patches of bright blue carpet where the furniture had been while the rest had faded. The fridge stank like the inside of a dosser’s mouth. The only thing that could be said in the flat’s favour was that it had running water.

  Becky said, ‘Hell’s bells, Jaz – I didn’t realise it was this bad.’

  That made me laugh. I mean, we were better off than some but that’s not saying much. If the rich can’t see it, can’t smell it, it can’t bother them. They don’t know such places exist except in a gritty TV drama.

  ‘Welcome to Planet Grunge,’ I said. ‘It’s not that bad.’

  ‘You’re joking,’ said Becky.

  Here I need to say something, Mr Jones, because it’s important. That first night in the flat there was nothing to sleep on and I said, a bit like a bossy matron, that Becky and me should have one room, and Alex and Icarus could have the other.

  It was Becky who said, ‘Come on, do you think I’m that stupid? It’s obvious you and Alex are an item, and I’m really happy for you. And I want to be with Icarus. I need to be with Icarus.’

  Icarus hadn’t let go of Becky’s hand since we got on the train and I was too bushwhacked to say anything more. But I was glad that Alex and I would sleep together.

  At the inquest, Ruth said she should never have let that piece of scum into their lives. That piece of scum, by the way, was me.

  The next day we went to an internet cafe. Becky had the login for Ruth’s account at a department store and she ordered beds, duvets, a table and chairs, TV, everything, and did one of her yah-yah I-want-it-now tantrums and it all arrived the same day.

  Our old neighbour from flat fifty didn’t miss a thing. Mrs Mankell was the reverse side of the Mrs Sunshine coin.

  ‘You back then?’ she said, as if there was dog shit on my shoes. ‘Won the bleeding lottery, have you?’

  ‘I’m staying here for a bit,’ I said.

  Her head bobbed this way and that, trying to see beyond me into the narrow hallway. ‘Got people staying with you, then?’

  ‘What are you?’ I said. ‘The bloody Gestapo? We never stuck our noses into your doings, now leave us alone.’

  ‘Any noise and I’ll be calling the police,’ she said.

  ‘I doubt that. You wouldn’t want those sniffer dogs going through your boy’s pyjamas.’

  That was enough. She slouched back to her flat and slammed her door.

  I said to the others that I didn’t know how long it would be until the police or the council or both came knocking.

  Icarus said, ‘We’ll be gone in a week.’

  We. I didn’t like the sound of that.

  ‘Gone where?’ I said.

  ‘Home,’ said Icarus.

  We were sitting at our new table, eating an Indian takeaway.

  I looked at Alex in the hope that he would say something like ‘no’. No, you are not taking my sister anywhere. It dawned on me a sentence too late that Icarus had been talking to Alex and Becky while I’d been cleaning up the flat and getting the takeaway.

  ‘Jazmin,’ said Icarus, ‘I know you are scared and I understand. I promise you, all will be well.’

  Perhaps when aliens promise you something, you shouldn’t take it too seriously. I don’t think they understand the concept of a promise. Still, it didn’t stop Icarus from sounding believable – he was very good at that. When I was with him, everything had a logic to it.

  But I’m running away with myself. Back to the chicken korma.

  I looked out of the window to avoid his eyes and said, ‘I’ve had enough of your airy-fairy alien crap. Tell us what you’re doing, and what you want from us.’

  Icarus put down his fork and told us that he came from a planet that wasn’t affected by Earth time.

  ‘We look the same as you but we don’t age and we don’t suffer death – eventually we fade away. We tolerate each other but on the whole we prefer our own company. We teach our children to be considerate, but we have no feeling for them and they have none for us. Slowly my race is fading away. Technically, we are more advanced than you but the one thing that we have been unable to artificially create is love. Without love there is no desire to keep reproducing. There is no music, no art, no literature.

  ‘Three of us were chosen for the mission to bring this emotion back to our planet: Troyon, Ishmael and myself. I see now that we were naive in the extreme. The impact of our crash landing in Rendlesham Forest killed Troyon. Our craft’s mortuary had been damaged and Ishmael and I agreed we should leave Troyon’s body in the forest rather than take it home as is our way. We buried him there. When we returned to the craft, men in uniform were coming towards us. Ishmael went to greet them; I stayed back and watched as he was taken away. Our crew did enough repairs to take the craft out of there and we returned the next night. I dropped our stones for Ishmael in case he was unable to find us.’

  ‘Like the stone you gave me,’ said Becky.

  ‘Yes,’ said Icarus and took it out of his pocket. It pulsated with light. ‘The stone can heal, regenerate, and its magnetic power draws our people to it.’

  ‘It healed Becky?’ asked Alex.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Wait,’ I said. ‘This Troyon – surely you could have used one of your stones on him?’

  ‘No. He was dead. It is forbidden by our laws to do such a thing.’

  ‘Like “Do Not Resuscitate”,’ I said. ‘But what I don’t understand is, why has it taken you this long to decide to go home?’

  ‘Because I had to learn how to love. I had to understand what it feels like – the amazement of knowing that you are not alone, that there is someone you would give your life for. Becky has taught me how to love.’

  ‘Perhaps you’re better off without love,’ said Alex. ‘Look what us humans have done in the name of love – love of religion, of country, of money. Most of the time it’s just an excuse to be greedy or cruel. We say we do it in the name of love.’

  ‘Tell me, Alex,’ said Icarus, ‘would you rather be free of emotion and feel nothing for Jazmin?’

  Alex looked at me and my cheeks burned. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I wouldn’t give up this feeling for all the world.’

  And I knew he meant it.

  Chapter Thirty

  The next day Becky wanted to go for a walk with me. Icarus looked out of the window.

  I could see he wasn’t sure it was a good idea.

  Neither was Alex.

  ‘We need food,’ I said. ‘We’ll be gone for two hours, max.’

  I couldn’t wait to get out of that flat.

  Icarus insisted that we took the stone so he would be able to find us if necessary.

  ‘What are we going to do for money, Jaz?’ said Becky as we neared Camden Lock.

  That two thousand pounds hung heavy with me and made my relationship with Becky not altogether honest, unbalanced the seesaw.

  I took a deep breath and, expecting the worst, told her what Simon had done.

  ‘Good,’ she said. ‘You must keep it.’

  ‘You’re not cross?’

  ‘Why should I be? It’s what Simple Simon always does. He throws money at what he doesn’t understand and after that everyone understands for him.’

  I took some cash from the machine, though later I wondered if that had been a foolish thing to do. I’d just given away our whereabouts.

  I
t was a bright, sunny day and seeing so many people milling around, all relatively normal, doing normal things, made me think – how did it come to this, being stuck in my mum’s flat with an alien?

  After we’d done the food shopping we went to a cafe by the canal and ordered two slices of red velvet cake and a pot of tea. We sat in the sunlight and watched two ducks argue over a crust of bread.

  ‘Are you going to go through with this?’ I asked.

  ‘What do you mean by “this”?’ said Becky.

  ‘I mean, are you going to go with Icarus?’

  ‘Yes, absolutely yes.’

  Suddenly the cake wasn’t so delicious, the sun was too hot, the ducks too noisy.

  ‘You’re going to give all this up to go goodness knows where? You have a life, a career. Look how well your book is selling. The Martian Winter is still in all the bookshops.’

  ‘Jaz, I never wanted any of that to happen. No – wait, let me finish. Ruth wanted me to be a writer, she wanted to show off her clever daughter. My father enjoyed saying his princess was an author – and look where that led him: to the Queen of Bitches. They never once asked me what I wanted, never. You have been my one and only friend, the best friend I’ve ever had.’

  I did interrupt then. I said, ‘You accused me of not understanding you.’

  ‘Sorry, Jaz – I was angry, that was all. I didn’t mean it. But I do mean it when I say that if I lost Icarus, I would lose myself.’

  ‘No, you wouldn’t – that’s pathetic.’

  ‘What is there to anchor me here?’ said Becky. ‘Apart from you and Alex, nothing. I think the question should be, why do you want to stay? Jump with us, Jaz.’

  That shocked me. ‘You mean, trust everything Icarus says and jump into oblivion like Skye and Lazarus?’

  ‘Why not? Nothing is certain, nothing is set in concrete. Anyway, what do you have going for you here?’

  ‘I’ve got Alex,’ I said, but Becky didn’t seem to hear.

  ‘Look at all these people,’ said Becky. ‘Look at all the shopping. What are they buying? Nothing but a hope that tomorrow will be better than today because they have a new dress. That’s what I call pathetic. Leaving with Icarus is brave.’