Mum blinked at Bruce, looking astonished. Then she pulled her kimono straight and tucked her hair behind her ears. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Thank you for saying that, Bruce. And thank you for all you’ve done for us. We couldn’t have managed without you.’
I wanted this to be like a movie. I wanted Mum and Bruce to look at each other and realize their love. Then they’d fall into each other’s arms. Well, Bruce would have to stay put with his bad back but Mum could fall down on top of him. They’d have a long romantic film-star kiss while music played and us girls sang and Bluebell flew over their heads like a little lovebird.
Mum went off to change Sundance, wiping her runny nose with the back of her hand. Bruce shifted uncomfortably on the mattress, groaning and grunting. They weren’t really acting like movie stars just yet. Maybe I had to give them time.
Jude went out to get aspirins and fish and chips. I went with her because I was scared she might get into a fight. Rochelle came too, on the lookout for Ryan.
We didn’t see any boys, or any girls either.
‘They’re all at school, lucky things,’ said Rochelle.
Jude and I looked at her as if she’d gone totally mad.
‘Well, it’s boring just hanging out at home. I don’t want to get behind. Mum should have sorted stuff out, got us enrolled at new schools so we could start today,’ she said.
‘Oh, like she’s really had the time, seeing as she had a baby on Sunday and her eldest daughter ran away from home today,’ said Jude.
‘Yeah, well, that’s not my fault, is it? Maybe I’ll go and find the school myself. It’s in Neptune Street, Ryan said.’
‘So that’s why you want to go to school! Only remember, you’re one of the silly little twerps in Year Eight. He’s one of the macho retards in Year Eleven. I bet he won’t even look at you in school,’ said Jude. ‘Well, I’m not going near any school. I don’t see why we can’t simply stay off till the summer holidays and start again in September.’
That seemed like the best idea in the world to me.
15
‘YOU REALLY NEED me to look after Sundance, don’t you, Mum?’ I said.
‘That’s right, darling,’ Mum muttered.
‘So I can’t go to school now, can I?’
‘That’s right, darling.’ Mum repeated.
I knew she wasn’t really listening. She was clutching her mobile the way I frequently clutched Bluebell. Still, she’d as good as promised I needn’t go to school. I relaxed a little.
Mum stayed strung up all afternoon, phoning Martine’s mobile every fifteen minutes. Then she tried a change of tactics. She found out Tony’s mum’s number and rang her. Her hand was shaking as she dialled the number. She took a deep breath when Tony’s mum answered.
‘I’m sorry to trouble you, Mrs Wingate,’ Mum said very politely, though she was pulling a hideous face as she said it. ‘It’s Sue here, Sue Diamond.’
She paused. Tony’s mum was saying stuff. She didn’t sound as if she was making an effort to be at all polite back.
‘Yeah, well, OK, I know we don’t see eye to eye on a lot of things,’ Mum said, struggling to keep her temper. ‘But the thing is, I believe my Martine is coming to see your Tony today. Is she at your place right now? Can I speak to her? Please? She’s not? You swear that’s true? Oh God. Well, will you get her to ring me on my mobile the moment you hear from her?’ Mum clicked the phone off and started to cry.
‘Where is she? What if she’s lost somewhere? I’m not even sure how much money she had on her. What if she’s mad enough to hitch a lift back home? What if something’s happened to her?’
Bruce heard Mum crying and shouted up to her. ‘Look, Sue, I’ll see if I can get my back strapped up in some way. Then we can go out in the van looking for her.’
He did his best, struggling off the mattress on all fours, but whenever he tried to straighten up he got stuck, hissing with the pain.
‘Get back on that mattress, you silly beggar. You couldn’t drive for five seconds and you know it,’ said Mum. She paused. ‘Thanks for the offer though. You’re a real mate, Bruce.’
She started pacing up and down again, yawning and sighing and rolling her head around, her fluffy mules going shuffle-slap on the bare floorboards. Sundance wailed in my arms, wanting another feed. Mum didn’t seem to hear her, though her nightie top got damp. She clutched the mobile, checking it again and again for texts, leaving her own messages.
‘Please please phone me, Martine. I’m so scared something’s happened to you. Phone me!’ Mum begged.
Then the mobile rang and Mum jumped, as if an electric current had sizzled up her arm. ‘Martine?’ she gasped.
Jude and Rochelle came running. Bruce shuffled back off his mattress to the foot of the stairs. Even Sundance stopped wailing.
‘She’s with you, Mrs Wingate? Oh, thank God! She met your Tony and walked back from school with him? Right, right, of course. Well, can I speak to her?’ Mum paused. ‘What do you mean? Of course I need to talk to her! Stop telling me how to behave with my own daughter! I know she’s in a state. I wonder if you know the full story! Now just you let her come to the phone. Please! Oh for God’s sake, you interfering old bag, butt out of things and let me speak to Martine!’
Mum stopped. She shook her head. ‘She’s hung up on me,’ she said.
She dialled again. And again and again. ‘Now she’s not even answering.’
Mum tried Martine’s mobile but it was still switched off. ‘Why won’t they let her talk to me?’ she wept.
‘Maybe Martine just doesn’t want to talk right now,’ said Jude.
‘At least you know she’s safe, Mum,’ said Rochelle. She had her jacket on now and her best suede heels. She slipped out of the room – and a second later I heard the front door slam. Jude looked up, but she just sighed and shook her head.
I hoped Rochelle wasn’t going to find this Neptune school. I busied myself with Sundance, trying to show Mum she couldn’t possibly manage without me. Sundance kept fussing. She didn’t want me rocking her or patting her on the back or whispering into her tiny pink ears. She wanted to be fed.
‘Give him here, Dixie,’ Mum said wearily.
‘I think you really should put him on a bottle, Mum, and then I could feed him all by myself. You wouldn’t have to bother,’ I suggested.
‘Maybe,’ said Mum. It was clear she wasn’t listening.
‘Martine will come back soon, Mum, you’ll see,’ I said. ‘And then when her baby’s born I could look after him too. I could be like a childminder to both of them. I could feed them and bath them and take them for walks in a double buggy and—’
‘For God’s sake, stop nattering, Dixie, you’re driving me daft,’ Mum said. ‘Go and play and leave me in peace.’
I marched out of her room. ‘I was only trying to help,’ I said to Jude.
‘I know, babe.’ Jude was putting her own hoodie jacket on.
‘Are you going out too?’ I asked.
‘Oh yeah, I’ve got a hot date in McDonald’s with a guy with a diamond earring – not!’ said Jude.
‘You’re not going to get in any more fights, are you?’
‘Don’t worry, I’m fully trained in all the martial arts by our chum Kung Fu Brucie,’ said Jude.
‘Less of the cheek, girl,’ Bruce called from his mattress. ‘I might be an old crock with a dodgy back but I could take you on any day of the week. You stay here and look after your little sister, do you hear me?’
‘Yes, Bruce, I hear you,’ said Jude, but she went straight out the front door.
‘Don’t you girls ever do as you’re told?’ Bruce asked.
I thought about it. ‘Jude doesn’t. Or Rochelle. Or Martine. But I do. Sometimes,’ I said. ‘Can I get you anything, Uncle Bruce? Cup of tea?’
‘No thanks, Dixie. It’s such a struggle to get to the flipping toilet I’d better severely limit my liquid intake, sweetheart. But you could turn the telly on for me if you like. I got
it working before I did my back in.’
‘You’ve got everything working, Uncle Bruce.’
‘Except myself! That’s a good little lass.’
‘Any special channel?’
‘Afternoon telly’s all a bit rubbish,’ said Bruce, as I flicked through the channels. ‘Hang on, is that woman doing flower arranging? I’d better watch it. Iris hasn’t got much clue – she just dumps each bunch in a vase, willy-nilly. I can’t say I’m much cop at it either. It was always Mum’s department until she got poorly. She’d got her Interflora and all sorts.’
‘My mum’s ace at arranging flowers,’ I said.
We both looked at the flowers Bruce had brought us. The roses were arranged in the rosy china milk jug and sugar bowl, the freesias were clustered in the coffee pot, and the tall lilies were in water in the metal wastepaper bin.
‘Well, she’s certainly unconventional in her approach,’ said Bruce.
‘We haven’t got any vases, see. People don’t usually give us flowers.’
‘I’ll send you flowers when I’m on my feet again, Dixie. Flowers every week, eh? That’ll make your boyfriends jealous.’
‘Boyfriends!’ I said, giggling.
‘We could maybe start taming that jungle out the back too, plant your own flowers, eh?’
‘But could we keep some of it like a jungle so I can play there?’ I said.
I left Bruce to his flower-arranging programme and went out into the back garden. I felt for Bluebell. She was a bit bent over and squashed from staying shoved up my cardie sleeve for so long. I groomed her carefully, tickling her under her beak until her head stopped lolling and she started cheeping cheerily.
It was windy out in the garden. The long grass rippled like green waves. I played that I was sailing a ship in a storm, and Bluebell was a seagull flying ahead, showing me the way across the seven seas. After a year and a day’s long sailing I sighted dry land at last. The seagull circled my ship three times in farewell and then flew away back to sea … and I stuffed Bluebell back up my sleeve because I’d got to the Great Wall of China at the end.
I leaped up and hauled myself up onto the top of the rough bricks. I sat there, peering over the alleyway into Mary’s back garden. She wasn’t on the swing today. She was just standing still in the garden, head bent, sucking her thumb.
‘Hey, Mary!’
She smiled when she saw me, put her finger to her lips and peered round cautiously. Then she ran towards her gate.
I jumped down from the wall and ran to meet her. She was in her school clothes: a little grey pinafore skirt and a dazzlingly white shirt. She had matching bright white socks and big brown shiny sandals.
‘Are you all right, Mary? Did you choke on those horrid crusts?’
‘I was a bit sick.’
‘No wonder! Your mum’s so horrid to you. I hate her.’
‘Ssh!’ Mary whispered, looking shocked.
‘Where’s your mum now?’
‘She’s doing this big spring clean. I’ve got to play by myself until tea time.’
‘I’ll come and play with you.’
‘She might hear us! She says you’re not to come again. She says you’re … dirty and rough.’
‘I am dirty, sort of, but I’m not a bit rough,’ I said. ‘Everyone says I’m much too soft.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Mary anxiously.
‘No, it’s OK. I wouldn’t mind being rough. Anyway, how about you coming to play in my garden?’
‘Mummy wouldn’t let me.’
‘She won’t find out! Come on. I’ll help you over the wall.’
‘But I’ll get all dirty.’
‘No you won’t. Look.’ I stuck Bluebell in my teeth and shrugged off my cardigan. ‘I’ll drape it over the top and then you won’t even touch the wall. Come on, Mary.’
‘What if Mummy comes to see what I’m doing?’
‘You can always pretend you were playing Hide and Seek. And if you’re gone a long time your mum will get really worried and think something’s happened to you. Then she’ll be so pleased to see you safe she’ll give you a big hug and forget to be cross.’
Mary looked at me pityingly. ‘Mummy doesn’t ever forget to be cross,’ she said.
‘Well. OK. Maybe you’d better not then. I don’t want to get you into trouble.’
Mary thought about it. ‘I’m already in trouble,’ she said. ‘I’ll come, Dixie. I so want to see your house and what your bedroom’s like.’
‘I haven’t really got a proper bedroom yet,’ I warned her. ‘Maybe we can pretend one?’
Mary looked baffled, but nodded happily. She carefully unlatched her gate. The spring was stiff and she scraped her hand, but she didn’t flinch. Her little fingers were still red-raw at the tips.
‘Why are you in trouble, Mary?’
‘Mummy checked my bedroom when I was at school and she said it was an untidy disgrace. She said I didn’t deserve to have such lovely toys if I couldn’t look after them. She found my teddy under my bed and now she’s thrown him away because she says he’s all dirty and I’d catch germs off him.’
‘She won’t have really thrown him away.’
‘She did! She put him in the dustbin and she tipped tea bags and milk and potato peel all over him so he’s all spoilt now,’ said Mary, sniffling.
‘I think your mum should be shoved in the dustbin, she’s so mean to you,’ I said. ‘Why didn’t you tell your dad?’
‘He’s not home till I’m in bed. And when I’ve tried to tell him stuff Mummy says I’m telling silly stories to get attention. Mummy always twists things round. She’ll say I threw my teddy away myself.’
‘Still, maybe your dad will get you a new teddy?’ I said, helping Mary up onto the wall. ‘That’s it, sit on my cardie. It’s easy-peasy. Hang on, I’ll climb up too. Let me get down the other side first, then you can jump into my arms.’
I swung myself up and over quickly. Mary clung fear-fully to my cardigan on top of the wall.
‘It looks a long way down,’ she said.
‘That’s just because you’re so little. It’s all right, I promise you. You just have to give a little jump and I’ll catch you.’
‘I can’t! I’ll fall. Oh Dixie, I’m stuck.’
‘No, you’re not. Don’t cry. Just jump. Look, Bluebell will help you.’
I stood on tiptoe and held her out to Mary. She grabbed her and clutched her against her chest.
‘There! That’s it, hold her tight. Now, all you have to do is jump into the air and Bluebell will flap her wings and you’ll both fly straight into my arms. Just try it!’
Mary tried. She jumped into the air, clutching Bluebell, and I caught them both. They knocked me over onto my bottom but the grass was so thick it was like a cushion and we rolled around in a giggly heap until Mary started fussing about her clothes getting dirty.
She stood up, carefully brushing herself down. I helped her pull little bits of grass out of her hair. She smiled up at me.
‘You’re so kind to me, Dixie. I wish you were my sister.’
‘I wish you were my sister too, Mary. I’d swap you with Rochelle any day of the week! Yes, you come and be a Diamond girl with us.’
‘I wish I could,’ said Mary. ‘But I can’t, can I?’
‘Don’t you worry, Mary,’ I made Bluebell say. ‘Any time you want to come and play with Dixie just hold me tight and I’ll fly you there quick as a wink.’
She flew round and round her head while Mary laughed and tried to catch her. When Mary started to grab a little desperately I made Bluebell slow right down and give her an affectionate peck on her nose.
‘She’s tickling!’ said Mary. ‘The grass is tickling too!’
‘Well, we’re in the jungle, aren’t we, so what do you expect? Let’s look for animals, eh?’
Mary looked nervous, but nodded.
‘Look over there, behind that bush!’ I whispered. ‘See the lions? What about that big fierce one with the mane? L
et’s hope he stays asleep! Watch out if he wakes up, he might be hungry.’
Mary peered at the old doormat I was pointing at. ‘You can’t have a real lion in your garden,’ she said, but she gripped my hand tightly.
‘I’ve got a whole pride of lions! There’s a mother lion, see – she’s with her little cubs. Look, they’re having a pretend fight. Aren’t they cute?’ I pointed at an upended shopping trolley.
Mary blinked several times, waiting for the lions to materialize.
‘What’s that trumpeting sound? Oh, elephants! See their great flappy ears? Shall we give them a bun?’ I showed her a broken umbrella caught in a tree. I reached up to feed the ‘elephants’ and Mary copied me, though she looked baffled.
‘Is this a jungle, Dixie, or is it a garden?’
‘Well, it’s a jungle now. But maybe when his back gets better my Uncle Bruce will turn it into a real garden. Do you want to come and meet him?’
‘I’ve got an uncle. And an auntie. They took me to Alton Towers and we went on scary rides and I screamed and screamed. It was my best day ever but I ate too much ice cream and I was sick in my bed,’ said Mary.
‘I bet that annoyed your mum,’ I said.
I led Mary through the back door. She stared all round the kitchen, looking astonished.
‘Where are all your units?’ she asked.
‘We haven’t got any. Come on through.’ I knocked at the living-room door politely. ‘Hey, Uncle Bruce, can we come in? I’ve brought my friend Mary to meet you.’
Diamond Girls Page 17
