Diamond Girls (26 page)

‘Your wish is my command, Wise Master,' said Jude.

She was in such a good mood that she didn't moan when I cuddled up really close that night.

‘What's up, Dixie? You're a bit mopey. And how come I'm not being pecked to death tonight? Where's the bird?'

‘I've lent Bluebell to Mary, to help her get to sleep.'

‘That's very sweet of you, but duff move. Now
you're
lying wide awake – and so am I!' said Jude. ‘You need old Bluebell more than Mary. She's probably got heaps more toys than you have.'

‘Yes, but her mum takes them away. She's so mean to her. I'm not supposed to tell – Mary begged me not to, but I can't help it, I feel I'll burst if I don't. Her mum's so cruel and horrible.'

‘Are you sure? I thought she seemed quite nice. She's too posh but she can't help that. So what does she do that's so horrible?'

‘She threw Mary's teddy away. She said it was dirty.'

‘Dixie,
lots
of mums do that. Most mums would have made you chuck Bluebell out
years
ago –
and
that awful old cardigan.'

‘It's
not
awful! It's beautiful. And it still fits perfectly.'

‘Yeah, yeah, whatever!'

‘Mary's mum has done other stuff too. She forced her to eat her crusts and she cut her nails right back so they hurt.'

‘Lots of kids have to eat up all their food and have their nails cut. It's no big deal.'

‘Mary's mum says she's dirty when she's clean as clean.'

‘That's not really being cruel, though. It's not like she's beating her or starving her or locking her up in a cupboard.'

‘She does smack her.'

‘Mum used to smack me when I was little, when I got into fights. It didn't stop me though. She doesn't smack me now because she knows I could smack her back, harder!'

‘You wouldn't though, would you? Jude … I'm worried about Mum too.'

‘You're a right old worrypot, Dixie. Look, there's only one thing you've got to worry about right this minute. If you don't curl up and go straight to sleep and let me have a decent kip too I'm going to tip you right out of this bed, OK? So night-night.'

I curled up and kept very still, pretending to be asleep. Jude started breathing heavily, her arms and legs twitching as if she was fighting in her dreams. I didn't go to sleep for a long long time. Then I woke early, listening anxiously for the sound of dustcarts.

Sundance woke early too and kept fussing, not feeding properly.

‘Please try, little darling,' Mum kept whispering.

‘Maybe he's not hungry, Mum?' I suggested.

‘No, he's starving, poor little mite. It's all my fault. I'm all tense with worrying about Martine. I've lost her, Dixie.'

‘No you haven't, Mum.'

‘She's not coming back. She obviously hates me. I don't blame her. I'm a useless mum. I can't look after any of you. I can't even feed my own baby.'

I didn't know what to do. Mum wouldn't stop crying. Sundance cried too, and I couldn't quieten her.

‘God, what a racket!' said Rochelle. ‘I'm out of here. I'm going to the school over on Neptune to see if they'll
let
me sit in on some lessons.' She was all dressed up in her shortest skirt and highest heels.

‘What
kind
of lessons?' said Jude. ‘How to be a mini-hooker? You can't wear that to school! Put your Bletchworth uniform on.'

‘But I'm seeing Ryan. I can't let him see me in that old uniform, I look like a silly little kid.'

‘Rochelle, guess what: you
are
a silly little kid,' I said.

‘Shut up, you silly little squirt. It's a waste of time
you
going to school, you're so braindead you just get to sit by yourself and do colouring. But you'll come with me, won't you, Jude?'

‘What? I've got better things to do than try to blag my way into a new school!' she said. ‘You're crazy, Rochelle.'

Jude wanted to spend the day with Bruce, having intensive Wing Chun instruction. Bruce's back was a little better, so he could just about hobble around downstairs, though he was still happiest flat out on the mattress. Jude stood by his head, barely able to move for furniture, adopting the front fighting stance and practising an arrow punch.

I joined in for a bit but it was so boring doing it over and over fifty times that I wandered off by myself.

I trekked through the jungle, heaved myself up onto the wall and stared at Mary's empty garden. I couldn't see a sign of any dustbins. They must be kept round the front of the house.

I jumped down off the wall and walked along the alleyway to the end, wishing I had Jude with me. I made it along Mary's street and stood outside her house for several minutes, wondering if I dared creep up the crazy paving and search for their dustbin.

I had my hand on the front gate when I saw Mary's mother spraying the living-room window and then wiping away at it vigorously, even though the glass was already sparkling. I ducked down and ran bent over until I was sure I was out of sight. I didn't feel safe until I was in my own back garden. I didn't know why I felt so frightened. Jude had made me wonder if she was really as scary as Mary made out. Even if she
was
, she couldn't smack
me
or make
me
eat crusts or cut
my
nails or throw out anything of
mine
. She wouldn't really throw Bluebell into the bin too, would she? It seemed so awful she could do all these things to Mary, just because she was her daughter.

I decided I should get Bruce to teach little Mary Wing Chun too. Then every time her mum made a move Mary could block it. If her mum got really mad Mary could spring into action and whirl her way over her head. Then Mary and Bluebell and I could whiz off to Planet Dixie where no one could pick on us.

I so so so hoped Bluebell was safe and sound. I kept automatically reaching for her up my sleeve. I did a lot of colouring in my fairy story book to keep my hands busy but it still seemed endless hours until lunch time, and then the whole afternoon stretched out for ever.

I was waiting on the wall, watching out for Mary, from three o'clock onwards. I knew I was much too early to see Mary but I couldn't help it. I fidgeted so much on the rough bricks that I rubbed my legs raw. I heard a clock chime quarter past, half past, quarter to four, then four.

Mary
must
be home from school by now. Why didn't she come out in the garden to see me? She knew I'd be wanting
to
see her. Couldn't she get away from her mother? Had she taken Bluebell to school with her, hidden in her school bag? Or had she tried to hide her in her bedroom? I thought of her mum shaking the duvet, pounding the pillows, opening every drawer and cupboard.

I was starting to think I'd never ever see Bluebell again.

‘Fly home to me!' I whispered, and I looked up. There was Mary at the upstairs window, her palms on the glass. She was standing right up on the windowsill in her bare feet. I saw a flash of dusty blue in one of her hands.

I jumped down off the wall, rushed across the alleyway and climbed right over her gate. I crept across the velvety grass, nearer and nearer.

Mary stayed spread-eagled against the glass, wearing a long white gown. She was mouthing something. I couldn't see her lips clearly enough to work out what she was saying. I shook my head. She tried again and again.

I got as near as I dared, almost up to the house, craning my neck up at Mary. It looked as if she was crying. I realized the long white gown was her nightie. She was obviously in trouble again and had been sent to bed.

She waved Bluebell to show me she was safe. She held her to the glass, as if willing her to fly straight through.

‘It's OK!' I mouthed. ‘You keep her for a bit.'

Mary tried to reply. I still didn't understand, but I nodded my head to encourage her. Mary still looked very anxious but she smiled bravely. She started fiddling with the catch on her window. I stared up at her, wondering if she was going to try to throw Bluebell down to me.

‘Don't, Mary! Careful! No, it's too dangerous!' I called.

Mary jerked the window right open. She leaned forward and put one foot out of the window, right onto the ledge. She was still clutching Bluebell in one hand.

Then I remembered my own words.

All you have to do is jump into the air and Bluebell will flap her wings and you'll both fly into my arms
.

‘No! No, Mary, don't!' I screamed.

It was too late.

Mary leaped into the air, her white nightie billowing. For a split second I thought she might really fly. Then she tumbled downwards.

I ran to catch her, my arms out.

Then she fell on me with hammer-blow force and the ground opened up and swallowed both of us.

17

I COULD SMELL
lilies, lots and lots of lilies, so overwhelming they were sickly sweet. I felt their soft velvety petals stroking my cheeks. My head throbbed, my legs felt weirdly heavy and my whole body ached. I tried to roll over but I couldn't move. I was held rigidly in some sort of container, trapped.

I opened my eyes and there was Dad leaning over me. My dad, who never came to see me. My dad, the embalmer.

I was lying in a bed of flowers and I couldn't move, as if I was in a coffin.

My whole family were gathered all around me. Mum, Martine holding little Sundance, Jude, Rochelle and Uncle Bruce. They were all gazing down at me, and everyone was crying.

‘Am I
dead
?' I whispered.

‘Oh Dixie, what are you
like
?' Mum said. She was laughing shakily but tears were pouring down her cheeks.

‘What's happened?' I said.

‘You've been in an accident, lovey. Don't you remember?' said Mum. ‘You're in hospital now.'

‘What did I do?'

‘You went round to Mary's house,' said Jude.

Then I remembered. I saw Mary flying through the air like a little white angel. ‘Mary!' I said, and I started sobbing.

‘Hush now, darling, it's all right. Don't cry so. You've been such a good brave little girl,' Mum said, rubbing her face against mine.

‘I'm bad, I'm terrible, it's all my fault,' I wept. ‘I told Mary to jump off the wall and then she tried to jump right out the window and I couldn't stop her. Where is she? Is Mary all right? Oh please, tell me, is
Mary
dead?'

‘Ssh, ssh, Mary's fine. There's barely a scratch on her, I promise you,' said Mum. ‘Look, my darling, here's Bluebell. Mary said you had to have her back.' Mum tucked Bluebell in beside me, her beak nuzzling my neck.

‘Where is Mary? Is she really really all right? Can I see her?'

‘Well, her dad's taken her home now, pet,' said Mum.

‘Her mum will be so cross with her!'

‘No, no. I had a long talk with her dad. Don't you worry about Mary now. She's going to be staying with her auntie and uncle while her mum's in hospital.'

‘Did her mum get hurt too?'

‘No, but she's … she's not very well.'

‘She's gone off her head and now she's in the loony ward.
I
think they should lock her up and throw away the key,' said Rochelle.

‘Now, we shouldn't judge. Mary's dad said she's always
been
bothered with her nerves, right from when Mary was born. It started off as post-natal depression.'

‘That's just a fancy excuse.
As if !
'

‘That's
enough
, Rochelle. It can make you do all sorts,' said Mum. ‘You don't know the half of it.'

‘I know she was being horrible to Mary. Why didn't you
tell
, Dixie?' said Rochelle.

‘She did tell. She told me. And I just told her to shut up and go to sleep,' said Jude. ‘It's
my
fault.'

‘It's not anybody's fault. Don't be so silly, girls,' said Mum. ‘And Dixie, you must feel very very proud. You saved little Mary's life running forward like that.'

‘I caught her?'

‘Yes, you did, you mad little darling. You took the full force of her weight. You were knocked unconscious.'

‘Yeah, you've been in a coma, Dixie, and we were all starting to think you'd never come round and you'd stay a total vegetable,' said Rochelle. ‘I felt so bad because I've always made out you were braindead anyway—'

‘Rochelle!' said Martine.

‘Yeah, but I vowed I'd look after you and nurse you and do everything for you if you really
were
braindead,' said Rochelle.

‘I'm glad I'm not,' I said.

I tried to wriggle up on my pillows to look at everyone properly but my legs wouldn't budge. ‘I can't move!' I said. I suddenly panicked. ‘Can't I walk? Will I have to have a wheelchair?'