Diamond Girls Read online

  ‘Oh, don’t start her off. She doesn’t half get on my nerves with that stupid toy bird,’ said Rochelle.

  ‘You get on my nerves,’ I said. ‘You just whinge and whine and moan moan moan but you don’t help get things organized.’

  ‘Oh yeah? So what’s your major contribution, Ms Brain-dead Queen?’ said Rochelle.

  ‘I know a neighbour we can ask for candles,’ I said proudly.

  Jude and Rochelle stared at me.

  ‘No you don’t, stupid,’ said Rochelle.

  ‘I do. My friend Mary lives at the back of our garden. We can ask her mum. She says she’s ever so kind,’ I said.

  Rochelle snorted. ‘Oh God, she’s really gone crackers now. There are little friendies at the bottom of our garden! You’ll end up in a loony bin if you don’t watch out, Dixie.’

  ‘She’s real. I played with her in the garden. I did!’

  Rochelle raised her eyebrows and sighed. ‘My sister, the nutcase,’ she said.

  ‘You come and see,’ I said, crumpling up my chip paper and throwing it at her.

  ‘Yuck! Stop it, you’ll get my top all greasy;’ said Rochelle. ‘I’m not going out into that jungle out the back. There’ll be all sorts hiding in the grass – mice, toads, snakes.’

  ‘I’ll come with you, Dixie,’ said Jude.

  ‘No, don’t! Don’t leave me by myself!’ said Rochelle.

  ‘Now who’s the baby?’ said Jude. ‘You’ll have to stay, Rochelle, as we haven’t got a door key. Besides, Martine will be coming back sometime.’

  ‘I bet she doesn’t. I bet she hitches a lift back to Bletchworth. She’s not daft. I wish I could go with her.’

  I wished she would too. I thought how peaceful it would be, just Jude and me. And Mum, of course. Though now there would be the baby too.

  ‘It’s all the baby’s fault,’ I said, as Jude and I went out the front door. ‘If Mum hadn’t got pregnant she wouldn’t have wanted the extra room and we wouldn’t have moved. I hope little Sundance is extra sweet or I shall seriously dislike him.’

  ‘Sundance! I hope Mum’s joking,’ said Jude. ‘No, it’s not his fault. He didn’t ask to be born, did he? I don’t know why Mum wants to keep on having all these boyfriends and babies. I just don’t get her.’

  ‘Yeah, I know. But Mum says she’s finished with blokes now,’ I said, skipping along beside Jude.

  ‘As if!’ said Jude.

  ‘Well, if you get your Rottweiler – you know, to chase away Rochelle’s white cats – then he’ll maybe chase all the boyfriends away too.’

  ‘That was just a game, Dix.’ Jude turned round and looked at me. ‘So this Mary, is she a game too?’

  ‘No, she’s real, I said. Look, see over the wall? That’s her house. Doesn’t it look clean and tidy? Mary’s so clean and tidy too.’

  I checked the grey cuffs on my cardie, the stain on my T-shirt, the hems of my jeans, black and fraying where they trailed on the ground. ‘Jude, are we dirty?’

  ‘What? Well, you’re a bit grubby, certainly. I’m clean. Cleanish. And Rochelle’s never out the blooming bathroom. Ditto Martine.’ Jude climbed onto the wall. She stood right up on it, legs braced. ‘So that’s your Mary’s house then? Wow!’

  ‘The one opposite, with the black wooden fence. Jude, be careful.’

  She’d started to tightrope-walk along the top of the wall, showing off.

  ‘Whoops, whoops, I’m falling to my death,’ Jude said, waving her arms around, winding me up.

  ‘Stop it!’

  What if something really happened to Jude? I imagined her pitching off the wall and breaking her neck. All my family was disappearing. I only had Rochelle left, and I didn’t even like her …

  ‘Dixie?’ Jude held out her hand. ‘Come on, don’t look so worried. I’m only messing about, you know I am.’

  ‘What about Mum?’ I said.

  ‘Mum will be fine,’ said Jude, though she didn’t sound sure. ‘Come on, don’t let’s think about Mum just now. She’ll be back safe and sound with the baby soon, you wait and see. Tomorrow. So let’s get ourselves sorted out now, right? We’ll go and see if your pal Mary’s mum will give us some candles.’

  Jude helped me over the wall into the alleyway. I stopped her as we got to Mary’s back gate.

  ‘Maybe we ought to go to the front?’ I said. ‘We can’t just barge right into their back garden, can we?’

  ‘Why not?’ said Jude. She stood at the gate, looking across the neat green lawn. There were no toys scattered, no balls or bikes, no one sitting on the beautiful canopied garden swing.

  ‘If we just wander in then Mary’s mum might think we’re burglars,’ I said.

  ‘OK, OK, we’ll go round to the front and knock, if it makes you happy,’ said Jude.

  I don’t think she was too keen on marching over that weirdly perfect lawn either.

  We went down the alleyway to the end, turned left, and then went back down Mary’s street. It was as if we’d walked into a different world altogether. The houses were all tidy and clean and freshly painted, with shiny door knockers and little porches and ruffled curtains at the spotless windows.

  ‘I wish our house looked like these,’ I said. ‘Do you think they’re one of the other planets?’

  ‘No, silly, these aren’t council houses, these are private. They’re posh, can’t you tell? Is Mary posh?’

  I considered. I started to worry. ‘She’s not snooty posh,’ I said.

  ‘Which is her house, then?’ Jude asked.

  I couldn’t work it out. I peered at the rows of identical black and white houses. I didn’t know how to match up the fronts with the backs.

  ‘It’s this one,’ I said, pointing at the nearest.

  Jude clicked open the metal gate. I tugged at her sweatshirt.

  ‘No! Next door. Or the one after. I don’t know,’ I said.

  Jude sighed. ‘What are you like, Dixie?’ she said. ‘Come on, which is it?’

  I dithered. ‘Maybe we should go back and try the back way after all?’

  ‘Maybe we’ll just knock on any old front door and ask,’ said Jude.

  She went in the next gate along. The hedge was growing out across the pavement and the car on the front drive was red and sporty.

  ‘Not that one, Jude. This might be it,’ I said, nodding at the next house with the metal gates. The hedge was clipped into a green wall, not a leaf out of place. It reminded me of Mary’s plaits.

  Jude swung the gate open and started walking up the crazy paving path. I hung back.

  ‘What are you waiting for? She’s your friend,’ said Jude.

  I trailed after her, wishing I’d held my tongue about Mary.

  ‘Come on,’ said Jude irritably.

  She rapped loudly with the lion door knocker. We waited. My heart was beating as if I had a little knocker right inside my chest. Then the door opened, although the lady looking at us kept one hand on the latch so that she could slam it shut in a second.

  She was very pretty, with lovely golden hair curling almost to her shoulders and very blue eyes. They were outlined with grey pencil, very carefully, without a single smudge. Her skin was peachy with powder, her lips pearly pink. Mum didn’t often bother to do her face if she was staying in during the day, but she wore lots of black eye make-up and deep red lipstick when she went out on the razzle.

  Mary’s mum didn’t look as if she’d do any razzling down the pub or the club. She was wearing a pink fluffy sweater and a white pleated skirt. She looked like a mum in a telly advert, the sort who’d make a meal on her cooker and then serve it up on a tablecloth.

  She looked at Jude, she looked at me. ‘Yes?’ she said.

  I swallowed hard. I tried to say something but only a mouse squeak came out.

  ‘My sister’s friends with your daughter,’ said Jude.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ she said.

  ‘I’m her new friend,’ I whispered.

  She was shaking her head. Jude