Diamond Girls Read online

  ‘Which do you want, Rochelle?’ Jude asked.

  ‘I don’t care,’ said Rochelle tearfully. ‘They’re all rubbish. I’m not stopping here.’

  ‘Well, I’m only here till the baby comes. I did say so, all along,’ said Martine.

  Mum looked dazed. ‘How can I have a baby here?’ she said. ‘How can I look after you girls in a place like this? How can I? How?’

  No one knew how to answer her. We trailed downstairs again, where Bruce was waiting in the living room, glancing anxiously out of the window at his van.

  ‘I’d better keep an eye on it,’ he said. ‘Shall we start unloading now?’

  ‘I can’t put our stuff in this house. It’s filthy!’ said Mum.

  ‘Well, I can’t keep it in the van, Sue,’ said Bruce. ‘I’m sorry, but I’ve got to get back sharpish. I thought this was going to be a simple moving job, cash in hand, not all day with lots of humping furniture around.’

  He was hinting to Mum he wanted his money now, plus a tip for his trouble, but she wasn’t connecting with him. She was looking at the letter in the key envelope and then trying to make a call on her mobile.

  ‘Oh Gawd, I haven’t topped it up. Martine, here, lend us yours.’

  ‘But I want to phone Tony.’

  ‘Just hand me the blessed phone for two minutes, will you? I’m sick of you moaning on that mobile, telling tales on me to your wretched Tony. You’re acting like I’ve done this on purpose. I wasn’t to know.’

  ‘You should have found out first. You’re the mother. Though a fat lot of use you are as a mother,’ said Martine, shoving her mobile in Mum’s hand.

  ‘Shut it, Martine, I’m telling you,’ said Jude.

  ‘I’m trying my best,’ said Mum, sniffing. She dialled the number and then breathed out in an angry hiss. ‘Typical! They’ve put me on hold and they’re playing “We All Live in a Yellow Submarine”. It has to be some sick joke, right? We want to know where we’re going to live. Because it ain’t here. Don’t worry, kids. We’ll get this sorted soon.’

  Mum had her head up, her chin jutting, her chest thrust out, her huge belly heaving. For a moment she looked like a comic book super-hero, able to snap her fingers and make our beautiful house appear as if by magic. But then I blinked and she was just my mum again, starting to bite her nails, her face screwed up with worry. It wasn’t going to happen.

  Mum did her best. When she finally got through to the Housing Department she ranted, she raved, she wept, she pleaded. She said she had four children and was about to give birth to her fifth any minute. It didn’t make any difference.

  Mum stabbed the off button on Martine’s mobile so hard she hurt her finger and had to nurse it in her armpit. ‘Pigs! Rotten useless unfeeling pigs!’ she said, rocking with the pain. ‘They say they sent a team to clear up the house once I’d signed for it and they can’t help it if someone’s broken in and mucked it up meanwhile.’

  ‘Can’t they give us another house, Mum?’ said Rochelle.

  ‘They say they’ve hardly got any now, they’ve all been sold off. It’s this stinking dump or one of them huge hostels full of refugees,’ said Mum. ‘They won’t offer me anything decent because I signed for this tenancy.’

  ‘Yes, well, you were mad to sign, weren’t you?’ said Martine relentlessly.

  ‘I know. OK? You’re right. Do you think I feel good about it?’ said Mum. ‘I feel bloody terrible.’ She collapsed onto the rolled-up carpet and started crying, her head in her hands. We stood round her in a ring, watching helplessly. Bruce stood in the doorway, holding his van keys.

  ‘Don’t upset yourself,’ he mumbled.

  Mum cried harder.

  ‘You’ll make yourself ill,’ Bruce said, trying to sound firmer. ‘And you’ve got to get organized.’

  It was clear Mum was past organization now.

  ‘Well, someone’s got to sort things out,’ said Bruce. He looked at Martine, because she’s the eldest.

  ‘Don’t look at me,’ she said furiously.

  Bruce’s eyes swivelled to Jude. She glared at him and went to sit beside Mum on the carpet. She put her arm round her.

  Bruce looked at Rochelle. She was in tears too.

  ‘This is a horrible horrible horrible house and I hate it. I want to go home,’ she wept.

  I was the only one left. Bruce looked at me. He shook his head and sighed. He took a deep breath. ‘OK. Here’s what we’ll do,’ he said. ‘You two little girls, Rosanne and Dixie, try to get the house cleared up a bit. You two big girls help me unload the van. I can’t do too much. If I do my back in again there’ll be hell to pay.’

  ‘I’m not a little girl! I’m Rochelle, not Rosanne! I’m not cleaning! I did all the rotten cleaning back home. And this is disgusting. I’m not touching sick!’

  ‘OK, OK, I’ll do the sick in the sink,’ said Bruce, starting to roll his sleeves up. ‘Then we’ll have to get the van unloaded. I’ve got to get back. I’m very very late as it is. If you lot don’t co-operate I’ll just have to drive off with all your stuff still on board. I don’t want to, but you’re leaving me no option. You’re not being fair.’

  ‘No, we’re not,’ I said. ‘I’ll help, Uncle Bruce.’

  ‘I don’t think a little titch like you can hump furniture, sweetheart,’ said Bruce, but he nodded at me gratefully.

  ‘Little squirt,’ said Rochelle rudely. She felt in her shoulder bag, found her pink Marigolds and threw them at me. ‘Here you are then if you’re so eager to get cleaning. I’m not having some weirdo guy telling me what to do.’

  Her aim wasn’t good. One of the gloves landed on Mum’s head, sticking to her long black hair like a giant water lily. Mum swatted it away wearily. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and smeared mascara across her cheeks.

  ‘Oh bum. I must look a right sight. Quit showing off, Rochelle. Take no notice, Bruce, she’s always been a stroppy little cow. Now come on, girls, chop-chop, do like Bruce says.’ She smiled up at him, all tears and smudges. ‘Thank you, sweetheart, you’re a star. I knew you’d help us.’

  Bruce sighed. He threw his van keys to Jude. ‘You make a start with the furniture then. You look like you’re the strong girl of the family.’

  It was exactly the right thing to say to Jude. She jumped to it. Bruce thrust his fingers into the rubber gloves and strode resolutely to the kitchen.

  We watched Jude opening the van doors and reaching in for the first of the boxes. She staggered a little as she hauled it to the pavement.

  ‘She’ll hurt herself. I’ll help her,’ said Mum, trying to get up.

  ‘Oh for God’s sake, you can’t shift huge boxes in your condition. I’ll have to do it,’ Martine said, and she stomped out to help Jude.

  ‘Well, I’m not doing anything,’ said Rochelle.

  ‘Yes, you are, darling. You’re going to ferret in the van for the carrier with the cleaning stuff because all them sinks and toilets are going to need a lot of bleach. I’m going to do that. You’re going to be chief clothes girl, getting all our gear unpacked out of all the boxes and bags.’

  Rochelle huffed and puffed but did as she was told.

  ‘What can I do, Mum?’ I asked.

  ‘You can help me up for a start, Dixie. I’m stuck here like Little Miss Muffet on her blooming tuffet,’ said Mum.

  I held her hands and pulled hard. Mum staggered to her feet. She straightened up slowly, rubbing her tummy.

  ‘Phew! I’ll be glad when he’s born. Three weeks to go! Still, I’m glad it’s all plain sailing this time. Not like when I had you, little darling. You came two months early and scared me silly.’

  ‘Does it hurt horribly when you have a baby?’

  ‘Well, it’s no picnic,’ said Mum.

  ‘Worse than being punched?’

  ‘It’s different.’ Mum reached out with her fingers and gently poked the corners of my mouth. ‘Hey! Where’s my smiley babe? Don’t worry so, I’ll be fine. Your little brother will pop