Diamond Geezers

by Freer, Echo;

  ‘What for?’

  ‘Well, you know, when I said deathly I didn’t mean to cause offence...’

  Modesty smiled. ‘Really, it’s cool,’ she reassured him.

  He paused and looked at her. ‘I’m so glad you could come. I feel so much better now I’m talking to you. Your dad didn’t mind you coming, did he?’

  ‘It’s not a problem.’ Modesty felt her cheeks warm with guilt. She hadn’t actually lied but she hadn’t been exactly honest either. She looked away and took another chip. ‘Anyway, you were saying about your mum?’

  ‘Er, right.’ Oz seemed suddenly uncertain of himself. ‘Well, after the phone call she started to say that she wasn’t going to go to the funeral. And then she said that she didn’t want me to go either.’ He turned to Modesty and made an appeal for reason. ‘I mean, like - hello! This is my grandmother - my last remaining grandparent - and she’s trying to say I’m not allowed even to go to her funeral!’ He shook his head in disbelief. ‘And she says she’s not going to put any notices in the paper, so that other people can’t find out when it is.’ He looked into Modesty’s eyes and furrowed his brow. ‘She’s scared of something, Moddy, and I don’t know what.’

  Modesty was at a loss to know what to say or do. ‘Did she say who the phone call was from?’ Oz shook his head.

  Then Modesty remembered what Mickey Bigg had said about Oz that afternoon, outside the mortuary. She related the incident. ‘What time did your mum get the phone call?’

  ‘Dunno - about six o’clock?’

  Modesty did a mental calculation. ‘That’s just long enough for the Biggs to get home - if the billing address they gave Dad was for real. So that just leaves the question of why? Why would anyone want to get you?’ she asked.

  Oz was totally perplexed. ‘Beats me. That thing in the park in Year 6, you know, that still bugs me. I’ve asked Mum about it but she just gives me a load of BS about it. The time was right to move on, love. And crap like that.’ He sighed and cocked his head on one side. ‘Do you know, Moddy, it’s just under four years since I left here and I’ve been to five different schools.’

  ‘Five?’ Modesty was shocked. She’d imagined that Oz had been settled somewhere since he’d left. ‘How come?’

  ‘Every time we get ourselves sorted, something happens and suddenly we have to up sticks and move again. Once, we were renting this amazing little cottage in the Yorkshire Dales - miles from anywhere. Then one night when we were watching television, the phone rang, and that was it. We did a moonlight - there and then! Just packed our bags and went, in the middle of the night. We’d only been there about two months. I never even finished the term.’

  Modesty frowned. ‘So where were you living before you came back?’

  ‘We’re in a rented flat in Scarborough at the moment. Mum does temping jobs here and there to get us by.’ He offered Modesty the last chip then screwed up the paper and stood up. ‘Come on, let’s keep walking.’ He tossed the paper into a nearby bin, scoring a direct hit.

  ‘Impressive!’ Modesty said.

  ‘I’m pretty hot on the basketball court,’ he grinned proudly.

  Modesty thought that he’d be pretty hot anywhere, but didn’t say as much.

  They walked on, talking about Oz’s life since he’d left London and Modesty’s involvement in saving the cemetery from development, until they found themselves back at the pond near her house.

  ‘Oh my God! I’m supposed to be meeting Cerys back at the circus and you mustn’t be seen round here,’ Modesty said, urgently.

  Oz looked at her quizzically. ‘So when you said your dad didn’t mind, you weren’t exactly telling the truth, were you?’

  Modesty bit her lip but said nothing.

  ‘Is it every boy you go out with that he doesn’t like, or just me?’ he asked.

  Modesty’s mind went into turbo-drive. Had he just intimated that she was ‘going out’ with him?

  ‘I don’t usually go out with boys,’ she confessed.

  ‘In fact,’ she added, philosophically, ‘I don’t usually go out with anyone except Cerys.’

  Oz ruffled his hair, pulled a face like a nutty professor and put on a fake German accent. ‘Zo, zat just goes to prove my zeory of relativity vitch sez zat ze parental relatives do not approve of ze offspring having a social life, ja?’

  ‘Got it in one, Einstein!’ Modesty laughed.

  ‘Gut. Zen it’s not me zat is ze cause of ze problem.’ Modesty felt her heart rush through an extra couple of beats. ‘Oh, trust me, you’re not the problem at all.’

  ‘Excellent!’ He smiled. ‘So does that mean we’re still on for the planning meeting tomorrow night? Although,’ he added, ‘Mum says she’s not up for it - sorry.’

  ‘Absolutely.’ Modesty didn’t know how she was going to bear waiting another twenty-four hours before she saw him again, but the fact that his mother wouldn’t be there was definitely an added bonus. ‘Town hall, seven o’clock.’

  ‘See you there.’ He leant forwards and kissed her lightly on the cheek. ‘Bye - and thanks for tonight. I don’t know what I’d have done without you today. You’ve been brilliant.’

  Modesty’s brain went into meltdown and her stomach felt as though it was going to implode. He kissed her and said that she’d been brilliant! She touched her cheek lightly where his lips had brushed it and watched as he disappeared into the estate of Edwardian houses that bordered the cemetery.

  After sending Cerys a frantic text bringing her up to scratch and telling them not to wait, Modesty checked that her parents weren’t watching out of the window, then walked across the forecourt as though she was bouncing on clouds. Bring on the planning meeting!

  Seven

  The following morning it was all hands on deck for Princess Leia Ogden’s funeral. They were expecting a full contingent of Star Wars Appreciation Group members and Mortimer had had to hire in two extra cars and drivers. Everyone crammed into the office for the briefing. Although Modesty would not be taking part in the actual funeral she was keen to sit in on the meeting, so at seven thirty she was up and dressed and wedged in between one of the hired limo-drivers and a filing cabinet.

  Modesty’s parents stood behind the desk in their uniforms.

  ‘Attention please, everybody!’ Mortimer called. ‘Let’s look sharp about this.’

  When everyone was assembled Mortimer drew himself up to his full five feet seven inches and tapped his mug of tea to signal the beginning of the meeting.

  ‘Are we all here?’ he asked. There was a muffled response. ‘Now, as you know, I will be conducting Mrs Ogden’s funeral this morning. Stan, you’ll be driving the hearse but they want four cars, so the other drivers will be-’

  At that point the door opened, squashing Modesty even harder against the metal cabinet.

  Midge peeked his head around the door and said, in a high-pitched, Mickey Mouse voice, ‘Morning, Mortimer.’

  Mortimer’s face offered no hint of humour. ‘A little decorum if you don’t mind please, Colin.’

  ‘Certainly,’ he squeaked, unabashed, and held up a helium balloon by way of explanation.

  Modesty recognised it as one of the ones that had been on sale at the circus the previous evening. He turned to Modesty, grinning, and she had to agree with Cerys that in his wing collar and cravat he really did look the business.

  When the meeting was finished, the men continued helping each other to dress while Mortimer instructed Modesty on how the memorial chapel was to be set for the service. Her mother was also one of the drivers so, when the cortège left to pick up the Ogden family mourners, Modesty was left in charge.

  She went down into the cellar to fetch the box of Star Wars memorabilia but, when she came back up to prepare the chapel, her sister Grace was standing at the top of the stairs, her heavy Goth ma
ke-up already in place.

  ‘So, little Miss Goody-two-shoes, who was that boy you were out with last night?’

  Modesty was momentarily startled to think that she’d been seen but then realised that if Grace had said anything there would already have been ructions that morning.

  ‘Goody-two-shoes? Yeah, right. Try telling that to Mum and Dad.’

  ‘Get real,’ her sister sneered. ‘Even the things you do that get up Dad’s nose are about saving the planet - you’re so boring.’

  Modesty lumbered towards the chapel with the box of memorabilia. ‘Was there a point to this?’

  ‘Yeah, my point is, I want to know who you were out with and if, as I suspect, it was the old biddy’s grandson - you know, the one Dad nearly blows a gasket over - then I think it might be in my interest to let Dad know.’ Grace gave her sister a smile like a cat that was about to bring up a fur ball. ‘Unless, of course, you make it worth my while not to.’

  Modesty staggered to the door of the memorial chapel. ‘Open the door for me, will you?’ she asked, trying to balance the box on one knee while she reached for the handle.

  ‘Sorry - just done my nails,’ said Grace, holding out stubby fingers with black tips.

  Modesty grabbed the handle, flung open the door and almost fell into the chapel with the box. ‘There’s nothing to tell and, even if there was, I wouldn’t give in to blackmail. Now, just for once in your life, do something to help someone and give me a hand putting this stuff out.’

  Grace gave a disdainful snort. ‘Yeah, like that’s going to happen.’ She stood in the doorway of the chapel watching as Modesty lifted down the crucifix and hung Yoda’s picture above the altar. ‘You know what they call you at school, don’t you?’

  ‘Nothing would surprise me. Now, if you’re not helping, clear off and let me get on with it.’

  ‘Morticia.’

  Modesty turned to face her sister. ‘They call me Morticia? Have you looked in the mirror recently?’

  ‘Right - that’s it! You are so busted about last night.’

  ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, play another track, can’t you?’ Modesty said impatiently.

  When she’d finished setting the chapel, she packed the religious artefacts into a box and headed back towards the cellar. ‘Are you still here? I told you - there’s nothing to tell.’

  ‘So why are you being so cagey?’

  ‘I’m not being cagey. Cerys and I went to the circus. We met some friends. I saw that there were animals performing so voted with my feet and one of the boys walked me home - end of story. Now get out of my way and let me take this lot down to the store room.’

  When she came back up from the cellar, Grace was still standing by the door.

  ‘Friends? You?’ she snorted.

  Modesty stood and faced her sister. ‘I know the concept of friendship is something that has, so far, been outside your experience but I’m sure it’ll happen for you one day. Now clear off - I need to find the theme music from Star Wars and it’s not down with the rest of the stuff.’

  ‘That’s because it’s up in the sitting room - Mum and Dad were listening to it last night,’ Grace said with a smirk. ‘While you were on your date!’

  Resisting the urge to make a scathing retort, Modesty bit her lip and spoke to her sister as though she were addressing a very young child. ‘I was not on a date and I really am very busy, so if you’ve got nothing else to do, would you mind fetching the tape from upstairs for me?’ She knew it was a long shot but thought it might be worth a try.

  ‘Yeah - course.’

  Modesty could hardly believe her ears. Perhaps she’d misjudged her sister after all. ‘Wow! Thanks.. .’

  ‘I meant - yeah, course I’d mind fetching it,’ Grace grinned. ‘Unless you want to pay me to keep my mouth shut about last night.’

  ‘Grace, I haven’t got time for this. They’re due back in about ten minutes and I haven’t even put the trestles up for the coffin yet. Now if you really can’t think of anything better to do in your holiday than be an irritating little pest, then go and find Marley and join the rest of his fleas.’

  Marley was a huge ginger cat that Percy, the head gardener who worked in the cemetery, had discovered one Christmas some years earlier. Although Mortimer had forbidden Modesty to bring him into the house, she had fed him outside and he had grown into a sleek tom cat who strutted round the graveyard as though he owned it.

  Modesty was struck with a pang of guilt about her impatience with her sister. She hated these spats.

  ‘Look, Grace, I’m sorry - OK?’

  Grace tossed her newly sprayed pink hair and flounced off towards the staircase. ‘You will be when Dad hears about you and that boy.’

  Modesty took a deep breath and decided to leave her sister alone. Neither parent would be available for tale-telling until well after lunch and, by that time, she hoped she’d have thought of a solution to get her sister off her case.

  By the time the cortège pulled up in front of the house, Modesty had made sure that the trestles were erected in front of Yoda’s image and the anthem was playing quietly in the background. She retreated into her parents’ office as the Ogden family filed into the memorial chapel. They had requested that they provide their own pall-bearers and therefore Mortimer de Mise, top hat tucked under his arm, silver-headed cane and gloves in his other hand, led the six Jedi knights who bore Mrs Ogden’s coffin on their shoulders to the front of the chapel. The drivers remained outside by their cars, waiting to transport the friends and family round the corner to the cemetery at the end of the service.

  Modesty crept out of the office just as Mrs Ogden’s son, in full Darth Vader attire, stood up to begin the service.

  ‘Strong was she with the Force - but not that strong,’ boomed Mr Ogden Junior. ‘Twilight was upon her. Now darkness has, upon us all, fallen.’

  Modesty pulled the chapel doors to and crept upstairs to try to talk reason to her sister.

  ‘OK,’ she said to the back of Grace’s head as she lounged in front of the television. ‘I’ll come clean. It was Oz Appleby who walked me home but it wasn’t a date and nothing happened.’

  ‘Dad’s not going to see it that way,’ Grace replied without turning her head from the screen.

  ‘No, I don’t suppose he is, which is why I’m talking to you. It’s really important that Dad doesn’t find out until after the planning meeting tonight - otherwise he’s likely to stop me going.’

  Grace turned round and looked at Modesty with look of pity. ‘You see, this is what I mean. You don’t sneak out to raves or clubs or any of the normal things fifteen-year-olds are supposed to do. You go skulking off to council meetings. I mean - get a life! What sort of role model are you as an older sister, for heaven’s sake?’ Grace turned back to the television and added, ‘Dad’s not going to let you go to the meeting anyway.’

  Modesty’s shoulders dropped. ‘No, probably not, but I don’t want to give him any more ammunition than I have to, so just keep quiet, will you?’

  ‘Cost ya!’

  Modesty sighed. ‘If it’s money you want, then forget it. I’m not getting paid for any of the stuff I’m doing for Dad and anyway, I told you, I don’t do blackmail.’

  ‘Neh. I don’t need your money. I want you to cover for me on Saturday when the olds are away and Laughing-girl’s staying here.’

  Modesty suddenly felt lighter. She hadn’t told Grace that Glenys was unlikely to be around on the Saturday evening. ‘Cover for you how?’

  Grace turned round and her face lit up. Modesty hadn’t seen her sister this excited since she was a child. ‘Jody in my class is having a Halloween birthday party and it’s going to be a proper party - not just that pizza-and-video kid’s stuff. She’s going to have music and boys and dancing. It’s going to be brilliant. And if Mum
and Dad were around they’d probably let me go but then insist on bringing me home at about nine o’clock or something totally embarrassing. So, the last thing I want is for them to give Sister Surveillance instructions to be there ringing the doorbell the minute I’m getting warmed up.’

  Modesty weighed up the situation. She couldn’t see any problems with Grace going to a party locally as long as all the arrangements were put in place. ‘How will you get home?’

  ‘Melissa’s dad’s going to give me a lift.’

  ‘What time?’

  ‘Midnight.’

  Modesty shook her head. ‘Make it ten thirty and I’ll see what I can do.’

  ‘Half ten!’

  ‘Picked up at half past and home by twenty-five to, take it or leave it.’

  Grace folded her arms sulkily. ‘God! You’re worse than Mum and Dad, you are!’

  ‘Fair enough. We’ll leave it.’

  ‘All right - ten thirty,’ Grace said grudgingly. But as Modesty was returning downstairs, she heard her sister speaking on the phone. ‘Hi, Mel? She said yes! And your dad doesn’t have to pick us up till half ten! How cool is that?’

  Gemma King stared at the lunchtime news on television, not really taking it in.

  ‘Gem - are you sure you’re OK?’ Her friend Anoushka had been staying with her since the robbery.

  Gemma tapped her fingers on the arm of the settee. ‘I’m fine. I keep telling you - I just want this whole thing to be over. I want to get the funeral over with and then sell up and move right away.’

  Initially, Noush’s presence had been company for her in the large house she and her father had rattled around in after her mother had died. But ever since the previous night, when someone claiming to be a well-wisher had rung asking to speak to her, Gemma had been as irritable as a bear with a migraine. She had refused to take the call but it still seemed to have freaked her out.