Sunita’s Secret

by Narinder Dhami

  Contents

  Cover

  About the Book

  Title Page

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  About the Author

  Also by Narinder Dhami

  Copyright

  ABOUT THE BOOK

  I knew they were whispering behind my back …

  Sunita has just started at Coppergate School but has to be ultra-careful about making friends. She’s scared someone will discover her horrible secret. Her worst fears come true when she makes an enemy of Celina, the class goddess, and Celina tells all their classmates Sunita’s secret – that her dad is a fraudster on the run from the police!

  Sunita has to prove that she’s no criminal herself and so tries to keep her head down. But she can’t hide her natural instinct for helping people and she starts doing little favours for people without them knowing. Will more secrets mean more trouble for Sunita?

  It’s my birthday. My dad does something over the top, even for him, and takes us all on holiday to the Bahamas. I spend my birthday swimming in warm waters with dolphins and tiny, electric-coloured fish, and later, a waitress from the posh hotel brings an enormous birthday cake with pink icing down to the beach. Dad lights the candles under the stars, and everyone sings ‘Happy Birthday’ to me…

  No.

  It’s my birthday and I’m half asleep and I’m remembering last year. No Bahamas, no dolphins, no posh hotel, no pink birthday cake this year.

  This year was different. My birthday began with a kick in the backside and hot, sticky little fingers clamped around my neck.

  ‘It’s your birthday, Sunita!’ yelled Debbie, her mouth cupped around my ear. ‘Wake up! Happy birthday!’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ I yawned, surfacing reluctantly from my beautiful half-dream. ‘I’m afraid I didn’t quite hear that.’

  ‘IT’S YOUR BIRTHDAY!’ Debbie roared even more loudly, yanking the duvet off my shoulders. She’s only five. Sarcasm goes way over her head.

  ‘Mum told us not to wake you up yet,’ said Davey, bouncing painfully up and down on my legs. ‘But we didn’t take any notice.’

  ‘What a surprise,’ I said, trying to push them off the bed. But they clung onto me determinedly like two baby monkeys.

  ‘We haven’t got you a present,’ Davey said. ‘Debbie saved you one of her sweets, but she’d already sucked it.’ He pulled a face. ‘Eurgh! She’s disgusting!’

  ‘Well, where is it then?’ I asked Debbie. ‘Hand it over.’

  Debbie looked disgruntled. ‘I dropped it on the floor and Davey picked it up and ate it. But I would have given it to you.’

  ‘Well,’ I said, ‘it’s the thought that counts.’

  ‘You’re twenty-eight, Sunita.’ Davey poked my kneecap through the duvet. ‘That’s old.’

  ‘Actually, I’m twelve,’ I replied.

  ‘That’s even older,’ Debbie said wisely.

  I didn’t bother to put them right, as today I felt a hundred and twenty-eight at the very least.

  The door opened very quietly and Mum crept in carrying a cup of tea. She came to a full stop when she saw the twins curled up on my bed.

  ‘I told you two demons not to wake Sunita up,’ Mum said, looking harassed. Her short cropped hair stuck up all around her face in a kind of halo. ‘Happy birthday, love.’

  The day Mum decided she didn’t have the time or the money to look after her long, long black hair any more was one of the worst days. I know it was silly, after everything that’s happened, but when she chopped it off in front of the mirror and we picked up the swinging, glossy locks and put them in the bin, it felt as if someone had died.

  ‘Sunita was awake,’ Davey said angelically.

  ‘Wide awake,’ added Debbie.

  ‘You little liars,’ I said indignantly. ‘I was not wide awake. I was remembering my birthday last year—’

  I almost bit the end of my tongue off trying to swallow my words.

  ‘Were you thinking about Dad?’ Davey wanted to know.

  There was the usual frozen silence. Mum and I did not look at each other.

  ‘Not really,’ I mumbled.

  ‘Don’t talk about Dad.’ Debbie gave her twin a poke. ‘Mum doesn’t like it.’

  ‘I didn’t talk about him,’ Davey roared, grabbing her bouncy little ponytail and tugging it. ‘I just said his name.’

  ‘Dad’s not his name,’ bellowed Debbie, expertly trapping Davey in a headlock. ‘His name’s Sohan Singh Anand. It said so on the radio.’

  They tumbled to the floor, where they began to wrestle like two cute but vicious bear cubs. I leaned over and pulled Davey out of the tangle of arms and legs, and Mum scooped up Debbie.

  ‘Come on, you two,’ Mum said, hauling Debbie over to the door. ‘Time to get ready for school.’

  School. I knew there was something I’d forgotten. My heart floundered and lurched inside me.

  ‘School!’ Davey said with deep disgust. ‘I don’t want to go to a new school. I liked the old one.’

  It was how I felt myself.

  ‘We can’t go back to the old one.’ Debbie hesitated, then added in a whisper, ‘Because of you-know-who.’

  ‘Who?’ Davey asked, looking blank.

  This time Mum and I did look at each other. We almost smiled.

  ‘Twins, I don’t mind you talking about your dad,’ Mum said quietly. ‘Now come along and get ready for school.’

  ‘I don’t want to go,’ Davey grumbled. ‘And if anyone’s horrible to me at this new school, I’m going to smack them.’

  ‘And I’ll pinch them,’ Debbie added.

  ‘You know, that is not the best way to make friends,’ Mum said sternly, herding them out of the door like a sheepdog.

  My tiny bedroom seemed too quiet and empty without them. I opened the curtains, picked up the cup of tea and reached for my dressing gown, all without getting out of bed. The room was so small, there wasn’t space to swing a mouse. A cat wouldn’t have had a chance.

  All the rooms in this terraced house were tiny. I tried not to remember our old home because it hurt so much. My big, sunny bedroom, painted sunshine yellow; the billowing white curtains around the window seat; the TV, computer and DVD player in the corner; even my silly telephone shaped like a pink heart. It had all gone and it was never coming back. Well, I still had the phone, but there was no way Mum could afford to pay the bills. It was shoved under my bed, collecting dust.

  Don’t think about it.

  I put on my dressing gown and two steps later I was out on the landing on the way to the bathroom.

  Last year, even after the trip to the Bahamas, I’d still had a birthday party at home. All my friends had come: Kareena, Lucy, Daisy and Rekha. When she saw the presents and the cake and the firework display in the field behind our house, Kareena said that I was the luckiest girl in the world, and that Britney Spears had nothing on me. I hadn’t seen Kareena or Lucy or Daisy for months now, although Rekha had sneaked over to say goodbye the day we moved. I wonder if her mum ever found out. She would have gone mad at Rekha if she did.

  I knew I wouldn’t get a present this year because Mum couldn’t afford it. I didn’t care. I was worrying about starting at Coppergate School, wondering if anyone would recognize me. But the pictures that had been printed in the newspapers were about four or five years old. I was only seven or eight in those photos, and the twins were babies.

  I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror and told myself I did look different. My face was thinner and my hair was longer.
Probably, no one would recognize me. After all, ten long months had passed. But occasionally the story and photo popped up again in the newspapers, usually when the police were appealing for new leads. It had even been on TV, on Crimewatch, just a couple of months ago.

  Most of the teachers would know about me, of course. But the headteacher, Mrs Bright, had promised my mum that no one else would be told.

  Maybe I should go in disguise, I thought. I scraped my black hair into a ponytail, but I didn’t like the way my ears stuck out. Then I spread a thin layer of white toothpaste across my upper lip like a moustache. That made me laugh.

  I’m wasting time.

  I washed, cleaned my teeth and hummed a tune to pretend everything was fine. That I wasn’t starting at a new school in the middle of term, when everyone else in my class would already know each other, meaning that I would stand out like a fish on a bicycle.

  ‘It’s simple,’ I told myself as I wandered slowly back to my bedroom. ‘Just keep your head down, stay in the background and nobody will notice you.’

  The old Sunita wasn’t a stay-in-the-background kind of person. I liked to talk, I liked to be noticed. At my old school I’d been the editor of the school newspaper, and I’d started a campaign against bullying. My teacher, Mr Harris, told me that bullies stood no chance against me and my big mouth.

  The new Sunita was different; had to be different. I would have to keep my head down. The trouble was, I hadn’t worked out yet how I could stay in the background, keep my head down and still make friends. But I was thinking – maybe it was easier not to make friends at all?

  I hummed louder as I opened my bedroom door. Did I need any friends? I had enough to do at home, helping Mum look after the twins. She was finding it tough without Dominique, the au pair. The twins were like tornadoes, destroying everything in their path. Anyway, I had no money so I wouldn’t be going out shopping or to the cinema or to have a burger. And I would have to keep secrets, watch what I said, to make sure that nothing about Dad slipped out. Honestly, friends were something I could really do without—

  I came to a stop in the doorway. Someone had been busy while I was in the bathroom. My bed had been made. My school uniform – second-hand, of course, not new – had been laid out neatly on the bed, and my old school shoes stood on the rug, polished like glass. Debbie’s favourite cuddly blue elephant, Lollipop, sat on my pillow. A tiny vase of flowers had been placed on the windowsill, and next to it was a small parcel wrapped in silver foil. I opened it and a sparkly pink pencil case fell out.

  I did just about manage not to disgrace myself and bawl my eyes out.

  Mum was laying the table in the kitchen and the twins were getting under her feet, when I went downstairs. I’d put on my Coppergate uniform (blue and brown, an evil colour combination) and had my new pencil case in my hand. The twins started giggling as soon as they saw me.

  ‘It wasn’t us,’ Debbie said immediately.

  ‘So did Lollipop walk into my room and jump up onto my pillow all by himself?’ I asked, tweaking her ponytail.

  Debbie looked a bit anxious. ‘He’s only for you to borrow,’ she explained. ‘I expect he’ll want to come back to my bedroom tonight.’

  ‘Did you see the flowers?’ Davey wanted to know. ‘I didn’t steal them from Mrs Brodie’s garden. They were growing under our fence.’

  ‘They’re lovely,’ I said. ‘And so is this.’ I held up the pencil case. ‘Thanks, Mum. But how did you afford—?’

  Mum held up her hand. She was flipping through a cookery book, a never-say-die look on her face. ‘We’re having a proper breakfast for a change,’ she announced. ‘No Coco Pops in front of the TV. Today we’re having pancakes.’

  The twins cheered.

  ‘Dominique used to make pancakes for us,’ said Debbie.

  ‘With raisins, lemon and chocolate sauce,’ added Davey.

  ‘Thank you, Jamie Oliver,’ said Mum. ‘These will just be regular pancakes.’

  ‘What are pancakes made of?’ I asked.

  Mum screwed up her nose. ‘Ooh, don’t tell me,’ she groaned, ‘I know this.’ She thought for a moment. ‘Batter! That’s it, isn’t it?’

  ‘And what’s in batter?’

  Mum looked blank. ‘I have absolutely no idea.’

  ‘Flour, milk and eggs,’ Debbie said.

  ‘Butter and salt,’ said Davey. ‘And you have to flip them in the air three times, or they don’t taste as good. Dominique used to say that.’

  ‘Mum,’ I began, ‘juice and toast will do just fine—’

  ‘Nonsense,’ Mum said robustly, getting out the frying pan.

  ‘Surely we don’t have any flour?’ I argued. Mum had never cooked anything in her life before, as far as I was aware.

  ‘I bought some,’ Mum said triumphantly, rooting in the cupboard. ‘I thought I might make you a birthday cake.’

  The twins hooted with laughter, and I looked worried.

  ‘Oh, relax, Sunita,’ Mum went on as the twins began fencing with their forks. ‘All right, maybe a cake was a bit ambitious. But how hard can a few pancakes be?’

  Ten minutes later she was standing on a stool, giggling hysterically and trying to peel a pancake off the kitchen ceiling. I was laughing so much myself, I had juice coming out of my nose. Meanwhile, the twins were poking at their pancakes with suspicious faces.

  ‘Mine’s all rubbery, like jelly,’ Debbie grumbled.

  ‘So is mine.’ Davey picked up the pancake and put it on his head. ‘I can use it as an umbrella if it rains.’

  ‘Oh, stop it, you two.’ Mum scraped the last bit off with a spatula, and climbed down. I hadn’t seen her laugh so much for ages. I had actually forgotten what she looked like when she was happy. ‘Anyone for toast?’ She glanced at the clock. ‘We’ve just got time.’

  My stomach lurched. That new-school feeling again.

  ‘I haven’t,’ I said, stuffing the pencil case into my bag. ‘I’ll miss the bus if I don’t go now.’

  ‘Oh.’ Mum stared pleadingly at me. ‘I thought we’d all go together.’

  ‘What?’ I tried not to sound horrified. ‘But that means you’ll get to the twins’ new school really early.’

  ‘Doesn’t matter.’ Mum, in her turn, was trying not to sound too needy. ‘I have to go in and speak to their teacher anyway.’

  We couldn’t look each other in the eye, because we knew exactly what the other was thinking.

  If we go out together, there’s more chance of us being recognized …

  I don’t want to go out at all, but I feel safer if we’re all together …

  ‘All right,’ I mumbled.

  We’d been in the house for a week, but we’d hardly set foot outside. Now we would have to go out almost every day. I wasn’t sure how to cope.

  ‘Sunita, check and see if any of the neighbours are around,’ Mum said in a low voice as she manhandled the twins into their coats.

  I opened the front door a crack and peered out. On one side, Mrs Brodie’s curtains were still drawn. Mr Chan’s windows were open, but I couldn’t see him.

  ‘All clear,’ I whispered.

  ‘If any of them come out to speak to us, I’ll attack them with my Spiderman web gun,’ Davey announced, waving it threateningly.

  ‘Give that to me at once,’ Mum said. ‘You’re not taking it to school.’ She tried to wrestle the gun from his grip. ‘I can just see you tying your teacher up in a spider’s web. Davinder, give that to me now.’

  We had to wait for Davey to stop bawling before we could leave, otherwise the neighbours might have heard us and rushed out to say hello. They might be nice and understanding and friendly, but they might not. We didn’t want to run the risk. After all, they were strangers who didn’t know us. Why should they be understanding? People we’d been friends with for ages wouldn’t speak to us after what happened.

  When we finally made it out of the house, the postman was coming down the other side of the street. I tried not to st
are at him. I wasn’t expecting any birthday cards, of course. It would be silly, with almost all of our relatives not speaking to us for one reason or another. Besides, there was only one person I hoped would send me a card. And how likely was that? Not likely at all. I didn’t know where he was, or if he’d remember. Even if he was alive.

  Mum and the twins walked me to the bus stop. We took a short cut which led us through a small estate of very big, luxurious houses that reminded me of our old place. None of us said much then, even the twins, who had been chattering non-stop since we left home.

  As we got closer to the bus stop, I became more and more edgy because there were too many Coppergate pupils milling around the streets. They all looked confident and relaxed and happy. I envied them.

  ‘I’ll be fine on my own from here,’ I said, too brightly.

  ‘Yes, OK,’ my mum replied in a fake cheerful voice. I willed her not to cry. ‘Say goodbye to Sunita, twins.’

  The twins were poking each other with twigs they’d picked up along the way. Now, with one of their lightning changes of mood, they both dropped the twigs and stared at me with enormous, sad, chocolate-brown eyes. Their bottom lips trembled.

  ‘Don’t want to say goodbye,’ Debbie sniffled. ‘I love you, Sunita.’ She flung her arms around my legs.

  ‘Me too,’ Davey whimpered, hugging my knees. ‘I love you too, Sunita.’

  Oh, no. Please, no. Now everyone was staring at us and some of the kids were pointing and laughing.

  ‘I love you too,’ I whispered, trying to prise their fingers off my legs. ‘Now let go.’

  ‘I love you the most, Sunita,’ Debbie announced loudly, tightening her grip. ‘I love you loads more than Davey.’

  ‘You do not!’ Davey wailed. ‘I love Sunita more than I love Spiderman, so there!’

  Debbie pinched him and Davey stepped on her toes, so luckily normal service was resumed as quickly as possible. My cheeks burning with embarrassment, I hurried to hide behind the bus shelter as Mum dragged the twins off down the street. I could hear laughter, and assumed it was because of me. I felt wretched.

  I didn’t come out until I heard the bus rumbling along the street. Then I sidled over to join the end of the queue. It wasn’t a queue, though, more a test of the survival of the fittest. There was a stampede as everyone surged towards the bus in one huge, seething crowd.