Diamond Girls (6 page)

I waited until Mum's voice got high and panicky and then I pulled the chain and sauntered out. I tried to look surprised when Mum rushed at me.

‘There you are! Oh dear lord, we've been calling till we're hoarse. I was about to phone the police. I thought someone must have whipped you away with them.' Mum hugged me hard. ‘Didn't you hear me calling, Dixie?'

‘Course she heard. She was just winding us all up,' said Rochelle, tossing her hair.

‘I
didn't
hear,' I said. Well, I'd tried hard not to.

‘So what were you doing all this time?'

‘I had a funny tummy,' I said. This wasn't exactly a lie. My tummy had screwed itself up into a knot the moment Bruce mentioned my dad's baby.

‘There! I bet it was that prawn sandwich,' said Mum.

‘It wouldn't affect her immediately,' said Martine, putting blusher on her pale cheeks. ‘God, I look such a sight. I'm scared Tony's going to go off me. What if he clicks with some other girl while I'm away?'

‘Oh shut it, Martine,' said Jude. ‘What if
you
click with some other guy?'

‘Tony's my one and only,' said Martine. She said it seriously but it sounded so silly we all laughed, and even Martine sniggered a little.

‘
Ton-eee's my one and oh-oh-onleee
,' Rochelle sang, camping it up.

‘You are so
wet
, Martine,' said Jude.

‘So are you – now!' said Martine. She flipped her hand under the running tap and squirted Jude in the face.

They started having a grand water fight until Mum bashed them with her handbag.

‘For God's sake, girls, stop acting like little kids. Look at you, you're soaked! Come on, let's get going. Bruce will be wondering what the hell has happened to us.'

He was prowling nervously up and down outside the Ladies. He looked astonished to see Martine and Jude dripping wet but didn't bother to pass comment. He did edge up to me, though.

‘You all right, Trix— Dixie?' He fidgeted. ‘Your mum pointed out I wasn't being tactful, going on about your dad's family. I didn't mean any harm. I thought you
wanted
me to tell you stuff about him. I didn't mean for you to get upset.'

‘I'm fine, I'm fine,' I said. I fiddled around up my cardigan sleeve, feeling for Bluebell.

‘You looking for a hankie?' asked Bruce.

I shook my head. I remembered I'd stuffed Bluebell
down
my T-shirt. I felt for her, pretending I had an itch. She slipped through my fingers and swallow-dived to the floor. I picked her up quickly, blushing.

‘Is that a budgie?' said Bruce. ‘I had a budgie when I was a little boy.'

‘A real one?'

‘Yes, our Sammy. We used to let him out of his cage and he'd perch right on the top of my head, singing away. He could do all sorts of tricks.'

‘I'm going to have a real budgie but I won't keep it in a cage because I think that's cruel. I'm going to train it like a hawk so it flies around wherever it wants but comes when I whistle to it.'

‘Oh yes? I think you might have to do quite a lot of whistling,' said Bruce. He ruffled my hair. ‘I'll tell your dad you're a really cute kid when I see him.'

‘Did he ask how I was then?'

I saw his eyes flickering behind his glasses.

‘Yes, he did. That's right, and he also asked me to tell him exactly what you look like now.'

‘Oh!' I fiddled with my hair, and turned over the grubby cuffs of my cardigan. ‘I look a mess.'

‘No you don't. I'll tell him you look little, but very pretty.'

I stared up at Bruce. ‘I think maybe you need new glasses!' I said.

Bruce smiled at me. He had rather goofy teeth and they showed a lot when he smiled. He remembered and put his hand over his mouth to hide them.

‘I'm glad you and my dad are mates,' I said.

He didn't point out they weren't mates this time. He nodded at me and gave me a little pat on the shoulder.

Mum was busy rounding up the girls. Martine was on the phone again, Jude was looking at action DVDs in the shop and Rochelle was flicking through magazines.

‘Put that back, Rochelle, I'm not buying it. I don't care whose pin-up they've got inside. I've just spent a small fortune on a meal. We've got a whole house to fix up now.'

‘How do you mean, fix up?' said Jude.

‘Well, they said it might need a coat of paint, a little bit of work here and there. Nothing major. We could give a painting party, all hands on deck, eh?'

Mum was looking at Bruce's hands in particular. His fingers became fists.

‘It's council, isn't it? They'll get it painted for you,' he said.

‘Oh bless! Yeah, if you're prepared to wait ten years. I'm having a baby, sweetheart, and my little boy needs a nice new blue nursery. And all my girls want lovely bright bedrooms too, don't you, darlings?'

‘Count me out, Mum. You know I'm just here till the baby's born,' Martine said.

‘You sound like a stuck CD. I've got the message,' said Mum. ‘But wait till you see the house, Martine, you might just be tempted to stay. It's going to be lovely, you'll see. I can just picture it. The Planet Estate's practically out in the country. We can get a buggy with really big bouncy wheels and take the baby for long country walks, get some roses in his little cheeks—'

‘And there's a garden, isn't there, Mum?' I said.

‘We'll make it a lovely garden. Maybe grow roses. And what's that creeper stuff that smells good? Honeysuckle! We'll drape it all round the front door.
Maybe
we could have a water feature like Charlie with the chest, though that might be a bit dodgy when the baby starts to walk.'

We talked houses and gardens for ages in the van. We didn't seem to be getting near any countryside. We stayed stuck on grim motorways for a long time and then we branched off into a bleak grey town of ugly square buildings and torn-down posters and scribbled-over walls. There were six enormous concrete tower blocks on the horizon.

‘God, what a dump!' Mum muttered.

Bruce glanced at her. I didn't like his expression.

We drove on down smaller streets of terraced houses and corner shops with iron shutters. Black plastic rubbish bags were strewn all over the pavements, many of them leaking.

I hunched down to see the six tower blocks. They were getting nearer. I knew what their names were: Mercury, Mars, Venus, Neptune, Jupiter and Saturn.

Jude was sitting very still too, craning her neck, a look of horror on her face. Martine stopped texting Tony and stared too, her finger blindly stabbing the air. Rochelle stopped singing, though her mouth stayed open. We didn't say a word, hoping we were wrong.

Mum prattled on, chatting to us, chatting to Bruce, even chatting to the baby. ‘Who's my gorgeous boy, then? Stop that kicking now and listen to Mummy. Who's going to be brought up in a lovely new house then, with his own blue bedroom and his own beautiful big garden? You can run about all you please, my little darling, play footie to your heart's content. You're going to live happily ever after, my little Diamond boy.'

Bruce turned down a street of sad falling-down houses, half of them boarded up. Brambles rioted in the gardens.

We all saw the street sign. Mercury Street.

5

THIRTY MERCURY STREET
had rude words spray-painted all over the front door and the brickwork. Two of the upstairs windows were broken and boarded up with cardboard. Water dripped forlornly from the toilet overflow, staining the grey-pebbledash underneath. The front garden was a rubbish tip of McDonald's boxes, Kentucky Fried Chicken cartons and empty beercans. There were no flowers, no grass, just knee-high dandelions.

Bruce switched off the ignition. We sat motionless inside the van. No one said a word. Then Mum shook her head.

‘This
can't
be it,' she said. She opened the van door and heaved herself out. She blinked at the house, shaking her head. ‘It isn't our house,' she said, her hands clasped protectively round the baby.

‘Yes it is, Mum. Number thirty. And this is Mercury – it said so back there,' said Jude, jumping out and standing beside Mum. She looked round warily. There didn't seem to be anyone about but it wasn't the sort of place where you left things to chance.

I wriggled out beside them and held onto Jude's hand. She didn't try to swat me away.

‘I'm not getting out. It's way too scary,' said Rochelle.

‘I can't believe it, Mum,' said Martine. ‘You've messed up my entire life and got rid of our lovely flat for
this
dump?'

‘It's
not
our house! I saw it. The girl down the council showed me photos on her computer, I swear she did. It was lovely, all prettily painted with flowers in the garden. The houses weren't wrecks, they all looked brand new,' Mum said wildly, whirling round and round as if she might suddenly spot the real Mercury houses on the horizon.

‘It
was
brand new – once,' Martine said. ‘She obviously showed you photos from years and years ago, when the estate was newly built. Why didn't you
realize
that? If the houses were really that special there'd be a waiting list, wouldn't there? But no one else would ever be mad enough in a million years to put their names down for this dump.'

‘Let's all get back in the van and go
home
,' said Rochelle.

‘We can't,' said Mum. ‘It's allocated already.
This
is our home.' She stared at it and started crying. ‘Oh my God, what have I done?'

‘You're so stupid, Mum. You don't ever think,' said Martine.

‘Shut up,' said Jude. She put her arm round Mum. ‘Don't cry. It's not good for the baby. It's OK. It's maybe not so bad inside. Let's go and look.'

Mum had the keys in an envelope, but you didn't really need them. It wasn't worth locking 30 Mercury Street.
All
self-respecting thieves would give it a wide berth. It smelled damp and stale and musty. I nuzzled my nose into my cardigan sleeve.

The stained carpet had been half ripped up and lay curled over on itself in the middle of the living room. Someone had used it as a picnic bench. There were screwed-up fish and chip papers and empty lager cans littered all round it. The walls were all scribbled over. Some giant graffiti artists had even left their tag marks right across the ceiling.

We went into the kitchen. Someone had been sick in the sink.

‘Yuck!' Rochelle squealed. ‘Quick, let's get
out
of here. We can't stay here, we simply
can't
.'

‘Let's see the bedrooms,' Martine said grimly.

We trooped up the stairs, Jude taking Mum by the arm and leading her, like she'd suddenly become an old lady. There was one big bedroom, two smaller rooms and a tiny cupboard room.

‘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.'