Diamond Girls Read online

  ‘That’s nice, dear. Of course you can come in. It’s your house, sweetheart, not mine.’

  I led Mary in and out the furniture towards the mattress. She peered around, looking dazed. She jumped when she saw Bruce flat out on the mattress.

  ‘How do you do, Mary?’ said Bruce. ‘Please excuse my looking such a sight. I’m a bit of an old crock at the moment as I’ve done my back in.’

  I squatted at the edge of Bruce’s mattress. Mary huddled up beside me. Bruce tried hard but she wouldn’t say a word to him.

  ‘You’re not very chatty, are you, Mary?’ said Bruce.

  ‘Never mind. I chat enough for both of us, Uncle Bruce,’ I said. ‘Do you want me to change channels on the television for you? We’re going to play now.’

  ‘Yes, I think I’ll watch a spot of Richard and Judy,’ said Uncle Bruce. ‘I feel terrible hogging your mum’s mattress and your mum’s telly. Ask her if she’d like the television upstairs. I’m sure Jude could carry it up for her.’

  I took Mary out into the hall. ‘He’s lovely, isn’t he, my Uncle Bruce?’

  ‘Is that a living room or a bedroom?’ Mary asked.

  ‘Well, it’s kind of an everything room at the moment. We’re not sorted out yet because Mum’s just had the baby. I’ll show you Sundance. I’m allowed to look after her.’ I clapped my hand over my mouth, hoping Mum hadn’t heard.

  ‘I thought Sundance was a baby boy,’ said Mary.

  ‘He is. Well. For the moment.’ I put my mouth very close to Mary’s ear. ‘But he might turn into a girl soon.’

  Mary nodded. She seemed to be getting used to extraordinary things.

  ‘We’ll take a peep,’ I said.

  But as we went upstairs I could hear Mum talking in her bedroom. She was leaving another phone message for Martine. It sounded as if she was crying.

  ‘She’s a bit upset just now,’ I whispered to Mary. ‘We’ll leave her in peace, eh? Come on, we’ll go in my bedroom.’

  Mary looked at the bare floorboards and the cardboard boxes. She walked round them warily as if she thought they might be jungle animals too. She sat on the very edge of the bed, dangling her legs. ‘This is your bedroom, Dixie?’

  ‘I know it’s not very clean and tidy. I bet your bedroom’s ever so pretty. But my Uncle Bruce is going to paint it for me when his back is better. And perhaps we’ll get some new furniture. Jude and I want bunk beds. This bed’s all rickety because we used to play trampolines.’

  ‘Trampolines?’

  ‘Yeah, haven’t you ever played it?’

  I jumped up on the bed and bounced up and down. Mary stared at me, shocked.

  ‘Won’t your mum mind you jumping on the furniture?’

  ‘Well, the springs are mostly bust now, so it doesn’t really matter,’ I said. ‘Come on, you have a bounce too.’

  I pulled Mary up, holding her by her wrists because I didn’t want to rub her sore fingers. I gave a big bounce. Mary squealed, nearly wobbling over, but then she steadied herself.

  ‘Shouldn’t I take my shoes off?’

  ‘Never mind! Come on, bounce!’

  I leaped up and down wildly. Mary gave teeny little bobs, still squealing.

  ‘Are you OK? We’ll stop if you like.’

  ‘No, it’s lovely!’ Mary gasped.

  We bounced until we were both bright red in the face. One of Mary’s plaits started unravelling.

  ‘Oh, my hair!’ she said, stopping still, nearly toppling both of us. She grabbed at her trailing ribbon, looking terrified.

  ‘I’ll do it up for you. I’m good at hairdressing,’ I said.

  I did my best. I couldn’t get the plait exactly even and the ribbon didn’t look quite right either, but I hoped it would do. Mary seemed worried about it so I showed her all the things in my cardboard box to distract her. She fingered my old animals politely, but their missing limbs obviously alarmed her. She stroked the cover of my fairy story book but didn’t open it. She liked my fibre-tip pen set though, unbuttoning the plastic wallet and rearranging them into rainbow order.

  ‘I used to have a big set of pens but I kept going over the lines in my colouring books and spoilt them.’

  ‘You can colour in my fairy story book if you like,’ I said.

  ‘You can’t colour in story books!’

  ‘Of course you can. Look, here’s the little mermaid story. You can colour the mermaid if you like. I’ll do all the fish.’

  We rested the fairy story book on the bed and knelt in front of it. Mary took the yellow pen and started colouring the mermaid’s hair very carefully, curl by curl. She was concentrating so fiercely her tongue stuck out. I leaned over and coloured one fish purple with red lips and a bright pink tail, another one jade-green with royal-blue stripes and a third ruby-red with emerald eyes and golden fins.

  ‘Fish aren’t really that colour. They’re grey,’ said Mary.

  ‘Yes, but grey’s boring. And these are fairy fish so they can be any colour they want. “Bubble bubble, we want to be bright, please, Dixie,” they’re saying. And your mermaid’s asking, “What colour tail am I getting, Mary? Orange? Purple? Navy blue?”’

  ‘You’re getting a green tail, little mermaid,’ said Mary. ‘And if you don’t behave I shall smack it very very hard and lock you up in your bedroom, young lady.’

  I looked at Mary. ‘Your little mermaid lives in an underwater palace. If she gets locked up she just swims straight out the window, see?’

  Mary finished her mermaid, I finished my fish, and we used both blue fibre tips to colour in the sea, Mary one side of the page, me the other. Mary’s hand relaxed a little and she scribbled freely, her arm moving up and down. Then she stopped and saw her sleeve. She gave a little moan.

  ‘Look!’ she whispered.

  There was a faint blue smudge on her white cuff.

  ‘That’s nothing. Don’t worry, it’ll come out in the wash.’

  Mary kept looking at her sleeve. She tried licking the blue but it just spread a little.

  ‘Your mum won’t notice,’ I said.

  ‘She will,’ said Mary. ‘She’ll smack me and put me to bed. And I haven’t got my teddy any more. I can’t sleep without him.’

  I thought hard about it as I took Mary back through the jungle garden and helped her up and over the wall.

  ‘Can I hold Bluebell to make me fly?’

  ‘Yep! Tell you what, you can take her with you and cuddle up with her tonight. She’ll sing you to sleep, you’ll see.’

  ‘You’re giving me Bluebell?’

  ‘I’m not giving her to you, I’m just lending her for tonight, OK? But hide her from your mum! I don’t want Bluebell chucked in the dustbin too.’

  Mary clutched Bluebell tightly. We slipped across the alleyway. I helped Mary struggle with the gate latch. I was scared her mother would suddenly come running and pounce on her, but the garden stayed empty.

  Mary sat on her swing. She made Bluebell wave her wing at me. Then she quickly stuffed her right down the neck of her school blouse, out of sight.

  16

  MY CARDIE SLEEVE felt horribly empty without Bluebell inside, pecking companionably at my wrist. I wasn’t sure Mary would be able to hide her. I kept thinking of her mother hurling her into the dustbin. I saw her buried under smelly rubbish, unable to flap her wings and fly away. I saw the dustbin men arriving in the morning and emptying her into their terrible stinking lorry. I thought of her being driven away to the rotting wilder-ness of the tip. I knew I’d never find her again.

  I wanted to tell Mum. She was huddled up with Sundance and didn’t want to be bothered.

  ‘But Mum, I’m miserable,’ I whined.

  ‘So am I, Dixie, so that makes two of us,’ said Mum, pulling away from me.

  ‘Can you just tell me what time dustmen come in the mornings?’

  ‘Can I what?’

  ‘Mum, I’ve done something silly,’ I said.

  ‘Well, go and tell Jude, Dixie. Or your bloomi