Diamond Girls Read online

  Martine was holding her own flat stomach, shaking her head. ‘It’s so stupid. Why does it have to be so messy and painful? Why can’t we be like kangaroos and have babies the size of baked beans that just crawl up into a pocket in our stomachs?’

  We both thought about it – and shuddered.

  ‘Yuck,’ I said.

  ‘Yes, OK, bad idea,’ said Martine, giggling, though she looked as if she might start crying instead.

  I swallowed. ‘Martine. Martine, I’ve got to tell you something,’ I said.

  ‘Not now, Dixie. I need to phone Tony.’

  ‘But it’s important. It’s about the baby.’

  ‘Yeah, well, tell me later, Dixie,’ said Martine, running up the stairs, dialling as she went.

  I was about to trail after her when there was a knock at the door. I went rushing to open it, hoping it was Jude.

  It was Rochelle, jumping up and down in her suede heels, sparkling like a real diamond.

  ‘Guess what, guess what, guess what!’ she said.

  ‘You’ll never guess,’ I said. ‘Rochelle, come here.’ I seized her by the arm and marched her past the living room, making ssh! gestures.

  ‘Ah. Yes. Better not tell Mum. You won’t tell, Dixie, will you?’ Rochelle whispered urgently.

  ‘Tell what?’

  ‘I’ve got a boyfriend!’ said Rochelle, and she twirled around, shaking her head wildly so that her long blonde curls flew up in a glorious golden halo.

  ‘You what? Yeah, like you’ve stared at some boy and he’s waved at you,’ I said.

  ‘No, really. I’ve got a date. Tonight. A real date, outside McDonald’s. We’ll maybe go for a drink later.’

  ‘In a pub? As if they’d let you in – you’re only twelve!’

  ‘I’m nearly thirteen. He thinks I’m a bit older anyway.’

  ‘How old is he?’

  ‘Sixteen,’ said Rochelle proudly.

  ‘You’re mad! You can’t go out with a sixteen-year-old.’ I stood still, halfway up the stairs. ‘It’s not that guy who had the fight with Jude?’

  ‘Not the big fat one! No, the really cool guy with the scarf and the earring. He likes me, Dixie, he really does. He says I’m much prettier than any of the other girls on the Planet Estate. He thinks that’s why Jude made such a fool of herself. He says she must be jealous of me, seeing as I’m the pretty one.’

  ‘Stop showing off!’ I said.

  ‘Look, I didn’t say I was pretty. Ryan did.’

  ‘That’s his name?’

  ‘Yes, isn’t it great? Ryan and Rochelle. We sound like a couple already. And if you count up the letters in our names and play Love, Like, Hate, Adore, then we both come out Adore – how about that!’

  ‘You can’t adore him, you don’t even know him yet.’

  ‘Well, I’m going to get to know him properly tonight, aren’t I?’

  ‘You’re not really going on a date with him?’

  ‘I am, I am, I am! Has Brucie Weirdo got the washing machine working? I need to wash my best jeans.’

  ‘Mum will go mad if she finds out.’

  ‘Well, she won’t find out, will she? Unless you tell her. And you’re not going to tell, are you, Dixie?’ Rochelle caught hold of me, her hands digging into my shoulders like big bird claws. ‘You’re not to tell Martine either. You’re especially not going to tell Jude. Because if you do I’m going to take that stupid stuffed budgie and tear its head off, OK?’

  Rochelle gave me a little shake to show she really meant it. I knew she’d probably tear my head off my shoulders too.

  She went singing into the living room to find her boxes of clothes. I heard Mum mumbling something crossly, but Rochelle took no notice. She came out nudging a box across the bare floorboards, holding something wrapped in newspaper in one hand. Her arm stuck out stiffly, her face screwed up in disgust.

  ‘Yuck! Dirty nappy alert. What am I going to do with it? Here, Dixie.’ Rochelle tried to pass it on to me. I put my hands behind my back and dodged, running to Bruce in the kitchen.

  If Mum had changed Sundance then she must have seen she wasn’t a boy. What was she playing at? She was acting like a crazy person.

  ‘You OK, Dixie?’ said Bruce. ‘Was that Roxanne having a go at you? What was she saying?’

  ‘Oh, nothing much.’

  ‘What is it? Are you sure you can’t tell your Uncle Bruce. Spit it out, sweetheart.’

  I couldn’t spit out all the things that were troubling me or he’d be dripping from head to foot. I decided on a minimalist spit.

  ‘Uncle Bruce, what do you do with dirty nappies?’ I remembered there was still one hidden in Rochelle’s dressing-table drawer. I decided it served her right. ‘Shall I throw this down the toilet?’

  Bruce stopped tapping pipes and stared at me. ‘You must never ever throw them down the toilet, Dixie,’ he said firmly. ‘I’ve got enough to do sorting out this house without you blocking up the toilets.’

  ‘So what do you do with them?’

  ‘I don’t know. It’s not a problem I’m used to. Ask your sisters.’

  ‘They’re all busy,’ I said.

  Then I heard another knock at the door. ‘Jude!’ I said joyfully.

  I flew to the front door. Then I stopped and stared. Jude had blood all over her face.

  ‘Jude, what’s happened? Mum! Martine! Uncle Bruce!’

  ‘Shut up, Dixie,’ said Jude, clapping her hand over my mouth.

  ‘What have you done? You’re bleeding!’

  ‘I’m OK. I’ve just had a little nosebleed, that’s all. Quit flapping, I’m fine.’ She wiped her nose angrily on the edge of her T-shirt.

  ‘No you’re not.’ I peered at her furious face. ‘It’s not just a nosebleed. Did someone hit you?’

  ‘No! I fell over. Stupid of me. Now shut up about it.’

  ‘I won’t shut up! You didn’t fall over, someone knocked you over. Oh Jude, was it that Ryan?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The boy Rochelle’s nuts about. Oh gosh, I’ve told! But if he’s beaten you up—’

  ‘No one’s beaten me up. Especially not that idiot with the earring. I could flatten him with one finger.’ Jude sniffed contemptuously. Bubbles of blood came out of her nose. I gave a little squeal.

  ‘Are you all right, Dixie?’ Bruce called from the kitchen. ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘Nothing! You mind your own business,’ Jude said fiercely. ‘I’m going to wash the blood off.’

  ‘You can’t, Rochelle’s in the bathroom.’

  ‘Well, she’ll have to get out of the bathroom because I need it,’ Jude said thickly.

  Bruce came out into the hall. ‘Ouch,’ he said, looking at Jude. ‘Come into the kitchen. We’ll put a wet towel on your nose – that’ll stop it. Come on, Jade.’

  ‘It’s bloody Jude,’ said Jude.

  ‘Yes, you are bloody, Jude. You’re bleeding like a stuck pig and making a mess of your shirt. Come here,’ said Bruce. He took hold of her by the wrist and pulled.

  I thought she’d sock him straight in his sticky-out teeth. She can’t stand anyone pulling her, not even me. She did struggle for a few seconds, but then she gave in and let him steer her into the kitchen. She was shivering now and he patted her gently on the shoulder. He patted me too.

  ‘Cheer up, chickie,’ he said to me. ‘We’ll soon get your sister cleaned up.’

  He didn’t waste time asking how she’d got a bloody nose. He just fished an old towel out of the kitchen cardboard box, soaked it under the tap and held it firmly against her nose.

  ‘There we are. Lean your head forward.’ He looked down at her right hand. The knuckles were bleeding. ‘I think you need something on those knuckles too.’

  ‘Do you think we need to take Jude to hospital, Uncle Bruce?’

  ‘You Diamonds are turning my van into an ambulance service! No, she’ll be fine, nothing to fuss about, like she said. We’ll have a proper squint at that sore nose once it’