Diamond Girls (12 page)

‘This is stupid,' she said, flopping down on the bed.

It suddenly seemed very very quiet in the house. It was starting to get dark. I thought of all the tough boys on the estate, out on the prowl. I thought of the men who'd broken into this house and drunk themselves crazy and puked in the sink.

‘Shall we push the cupboard against the door so no one can get in?' I whispered.

‘What about the window?' said Rochelle. ‘They could simply smash it and climb in.'

‘No one's going to break in – but if they do I'll fight them off,' said Jude. ‘Let's play the television game again. I know, I'll be
Match of the Day
.'

She jumped up and started dodging in and out of the crowded furniture, kicking a rolled-up sweater and yelling, ‘
Here's Jude Diamond with the ball, running with it – look at the girl go … talent on wheels, dodging, feinting … Come on, Diamond – yes, you can do it! She's diving at the net – yes, smack in the middle! What a goal – the girl done good, the Diamond sparkles!
' Jude jumped up and down between the boxes, waving her hands in the air.

‘Right, Dixie, your turn,' she said.

‘Don't do something wet wet wet on little kids' telly,' said Rochelle.

‘I'm going to do a nature programme. And it
is
wet wet wet because it's a tropical jungle,' I said, getting off the bed and crouching low.

I clutched a hairbrush like a mike and started whispering into it, like that old man David Attenborough.

‘
So here we are, in this hot steaming jungle, on the track of the lost tribe of giant gorillas
,' I whispered. I took Bluebell out of my sleeve and made her flutter past my face. ‘
Birds of Paradise flash their rainbow wings
,' I said. I took Jude's sweater-football and perched it on my shoulder, one sleeve swinging. ‘
Mischievous monkeys leap all around me, wanting to make friends
.' I made the sweater chatter and scratch. ‘
But remember, we are on a quest for the lost tribe of giant gorillas – and
hist!
I hear growling!
'

‘Gorillas don't growl,' Rochelle muttered. ‘They're shy and gentle.'

‘Pipe down, we're watching Dixie,' said Jude.

I carried on winding my way in and out the furniture, my hand cupped behind my ear. ‘Definite
growling
,' I whispered. ‘
Which is distinctly odd, because world gorilla expert Rochelle Diamond has led us to believe that gorillas do
not
growl. She has appeared on my programme, giving us the benefit of her knowledge, informing us all again and again and again that gorillas are sweet, shy creatures that wouldn't say boo to a goose – but
I
think the growling sounds very aggressive. It's coming from over here. Could this be a giant gorilla lair?
'

‘They don't live in
lairs
, idiot. They build nests in trees,' said Rochelle.

‘In
trees
?' said Jude. ‘Jeez, I wouldn't want to be walking underneath in case they turned over too quickly and fell out of their nests. Imagine being squashed to death by a furry gorilla.'

I was scrabbling in Mum's clothes bag for her fun-fur
winter
coat. I shoved it over my head, then jumped up on top of two boxes and thumped my chest. ‘Grr! Grr! I am the leader of the lost tribe of giant gorillas! I don't give a toss what Rochelle says about
other
gorillas. I am very very very aggressive and I hate know-all girls who think they're clever and I'm going to
get
her!' I leaped right on top of Rochelle on Mum's mattress, growling fit to bust.

Rochelle squealed and tried to fight me off, the fur coat slipping so that neither of us could see. There was a loud banging somewhere. We both struggled up out of the coat depths, wondering what Jude was up to. But Jude was sitting up too, listening.

‘Jude?'

‘Someone's knocking at the door,' she said.

They banged again, fiercely, insistently. Two people knocking, one using their fists. Then someone opened the letter box and shouted through it.

‘Open the door, you dozy lot!'

Martine! We ran to the door, Rochelle and I stumbling over Mum's fur coat. Jude got there first and slung the door open. Martine and Bruce stood there.

‘At last!' said Martine.

‘You've come back, Uncle Bruce! I knew you would. But where's Mum?'

‘She hasn't had the baby yet,' said Martine wearily. She'd smudged her eye make-up so that she had great panda eyes, and her hair was sticking up in clumps.

‘But it was practically popping out in the van!' said Jude.

‘Apparently it slowed down once she was in the hospital. The nurse I spoke to said she wasn't in strong
labour
yet so we might as well go home,' said Bruce, rubbing his eyes and yawning. ‘Look, I've
got
to get to
my
home now, girls.'

‘Not strong labour!' said Martine, her fists clenched. ‘It was so strong she was screaming. She was in agony!'

‘Now, now, no need to go upsetting your sisters,' said Bruce. ‘I'm sure she'll be fine. She had all of you OK, didn't she?'

‘No she didn't. She nearly died having Dixie,' said Martine, glaring at me like it was my fault.

‘Well, the nurse said she was doing fine – everything under control and proceeding normally. She wouldn't have fibbed to me, especially as she thought I was the father.' Bruce shook his head, sighing.

‘I don't know why she even spoke to you. You're nothing to do with our family,' Martine said furiously.

‘Yeah, well, I'm starting to go down on my knees and count my blessings on that one,' said Bruce. ‘I don't know why you're all turning on me. I've gone out of my way to be helpful, and given up a whole day's work for you – for no financial recompense whatsoever, it seems. I've acted like a blooming saint, and yet you've all taken advantage of me.'

‘I haven't, Uncle Bruce,' I said, taking his hand. ‘Do you want some of my chips? I couldn't eat them all. They're a bit cold now but maybe you don't mind?'

‘Thank you, sweetheart. No, I think I'll give your chips a miss. One of you big girls could go and make me a nice cup of tea though. I think we could all do with a cuppa while we try and sort out who's going to look after you.'

‘
I'll
look after us. And you can't have a cup of tea, so there,' said Jude.

‘She's not being rude,' I said quickly (though she was). ‘It's just the electrics don't work in the house and so we can't plug the kettle in. We've got candles though. I got them, from my friend's house. Maybe if we lit them all and held them under the kettle it would start boiling.'

‘It's your head that needs boiling, Dixie, you're so stupid,' said Rochelle.

‘The electrics?' said Bruce, sighing. ‘Let's see. Where's the fuse box?'

‘Don't look at me. It's not
my
house,' said Martine. ‘As soon as Mum's back and better, I'm off. This is a total
dump
. We got a bit lost and couldn't find Mercury at first, so we've been all over the bogging Planets, and they're all awful. There were some little boys peeing in the street, and some big lads – real thug types – whizzing all over on skateboards.'

‘One damn near went smack into my van. Could have killed himself, but he just laughed!' said Bruce.

‘
Some
parts are lovely,' I told him. ‘Right at the back of our house there's this lane and some
beautiful
houses. What sort of house do you live in, Uncle Bruce?'

He wasn't listening. He was opening up a little cupboard in the hallway and peering into it. He sucked his teeth and then walked down the hall and opened the front door.

‘Don't go yet!' I called.

‘I'm just getting my tool box from the van, Dixie,' he said. ‘But then I'll
have
to go, sweetheart. You'd better all be thinking who you're going to call. Have you got a nan?'

‘She died. She didn't like us much anyway,' said Jude.

‘She never even sent us birthday or Christmas presents –
imagine
!' said Rochelle, tossing her hair and striking a tragic attitude.

‘My heart bleeds for you,' said Bruce.

I
loved
the way he didn't seem to think much of Rochelle. I followed him out to his van. He found his tool box and lugged it out of the van.

‘Do you think you can fix the electrics, Uncle Bruce?'

‘I'll have a go,' he said. He took his big glasses off and gave the lenses a wipe on the bottom of his T-shirt. His face looked younger without them, though they left pink pinch marks on his nose.

‘I used to wear glasses,' I said. ‘Mum thought I couldn't see the board properly at school.'

‘So did your eyesight get better?'

‘No, some kid tripped me in the playground and my glasses broke and we didn't ever get them mended,' I said.

Bruce was frowning. ‘Does your dad pay maintenance for you, Dixie?'

I shrugged. ‘I don't know.'

‘Maybe your mum could get the social services to pay for new glasses for you?'

‘Oh no, I don't want them. They called me Goggle-Eyes at school.'

He put his own glasses back on, wincing. ‘Snap! That's what they called me when
I
was at school,' he said.

‘I hate school,' I said.

‘Maybe this new school will be better?' he said, going back into the house.

‘Maybe,' I echoed, though it didn't seem likely.

I
could
look out for my new friend Mary in the playground though.

I thought about that slap behind the closed door. I felt sad and wanted Mum.

Then I thought
properly
about Mum.

What was happening to her now?

‘Don't look so sad, sweetheart,' said Bruce. He chucked me awkwardly under the chin. ‘I bet school will be a doddle.'

‘I'm not thinking about school now,' I said. ‘I'm thinking about Mum.'

‘Well, tell you what,' said Bruce, as I trotted after him. ‘How about if I phone your dad? Maybe he could come and look after you for a few days?'

I so wanted to believe this could be true. ‘I don't think so,' I said mournfully. ‘He's got his other family.'

‘Yes, well, you're family too.'

‘But they don't know about Mum or me, see,' I mumbled.

‘Ah. Well. Yes, I suppose that does make a difference,' said Bruce. ‘It doesn't really let him off the hook though. He's still responsible. But under the circumstances we'd better not pester him. So, what about the other girls' dads?'

He started peering at the fuse box, taking stuff out and getting things out of his tool box. Jude came to watch, irritated that he seemed to know what to do.

‘You'd be mental if you got in touch with
my
dad,' said Jude, peering. ‘If you even knew where to track him down. Where do they put violent nutters? Broadmoor, maybe?'

‘Oh well, it's good you don't take after him,' said Bruce. ‘Pass us that screwdriver, Judy.'

‘
Jude
!' said Jude crossly, but she did as he asked. She
held
his torch for him so he could see into the gloomy box. He told her what he was doing and why. It was all gobbledegook to me, but Jude nodded, taking it in. Then Bruce flicked a switch inside the box, told me to try the hall light – and it worked!

‘Well done, Uncle Bruce! You're brilliant!' I yelled.

‘No, I'm not. Any fool could fix it,' said Bruce. ‘You can do it if it ever happens again, Jude.'

‘You calling me a fool?' she said, but she was only joking.

Martine came running from the bathroom, where she'd been washing her face. ‘You've really fixed it!' she said. ‘Does that mean the water will be hot now?'

‘Well, we'll give it a go. Let's hope the boiler isn't bust. I doubt if I can fix that,' said Bruce. He stepped nearer Martine. ‘Jude here says it's no use contacting your dad because he's a bit violent?'

‘
My
dad isn't a bit violent – but the last we heard he's in Australia,' said Martine.

‘We've all got different dads,' I said.

‘Oh Gawd, your family isn't half complicated,' said Bruce, shutting up the fuse box. He nodded at Rochelle, who was rushing round the house switching on every single light.

‘Don't go too mad, you'll overload the system again,' he called. ‘So, Dixie, what about Princess All-too-pleased-with-herself? What's
her
dad like?'

‘Dead,' I said. I paused. ‘That's how my mum met my dad.'

Bruce raised his eyebrows. ‘She's a one, your mum!'

I looked at him sideways. Rochelle switched the light on and off, on and off. Jude stood up straight, her chin
in
the air. Martine ran her fingers through her wild hair, glaring at him.

‘Are you having a go at our mum?' she said, speaking for all of us.

‘No! No, I was – admiring her, like. For – for getting on with life. I wish I could say the same.' Bruce blinked anxiously behind his big glasses.

I nodded at him. ‘Tell us about your life, Uncle Bruce.'

‘Nothing much to tell,' he said.

‘Have you got children?'

‘No, no.'

‘Have you got a partner?'

‘Not at the moment, no. No family to speak of.'

I gave him a great big smile. ‘You could be part of
our
family, Uncle Bruce,' I said very quickly, before the others could stop me.

‘Well, that's very very sweet of you, Dixie. I'm touched. But no – I mean, you've got your lives to lead, I've got mine. Such as it is. Anyway, I
must
get back. I'll just check the immersion. Gawd, they don't half install some rubbish in these council gaffs.'