Dani’s Diary

by Narinder Dhami

  ‘It’s curry tomorrow,’ Milly told me. ‘It’s supposed to be Indian food, but it tastes nothing like what we have at home!’

  In the afternoon the girls did needlework while the boys went off and did woodwork. Mum would be pleased I was doing needlework. She was always nagging me to help mend our clothes. I hate sewing, but while we were doing it, the teacher read to us from a book called Cue for Treason. It was a really exciting story set in Elizabethan times; in fact, it was so exciting I pricked my finger with the needle and let out a scream!

  I had a very busy day. It was amazing and I enjoyed every minute, but I was glad when the bell rang for home time. My brain was spinning round at about a hundred miles an hour. I had so much to think about, as well as a big bag of homework.

  ‘Are you getting the bus with me?’ asked Milly as we walked towards the exit.

  ‘I’d better not,’ I said. ‘Mum and Hardeep are coming to meet me. They’re probably waiting at the school gates already.’

  ‘OK,’ Milly said, understanding instantly. ‘See you tomorrow.’

  She ran off lightly down the corridor. I stared after her, frowning, as suddenly I realized what had been at the back of my mind all day.

  Milly hadn’t got into trouble once, not once, at school.

  Oh! I can’t believe it’s been so long since I wrote in my diary. Almost two weeks!

  I suppose it’s because I get so much homework. Dad’s been helping me with it when he’s not at work, and Milly helps me at school, so I think I’m doing OK. My teachers seem pleased anyway.

  Something happened with Milly today, and that’s why I wanted to write in my diary. No, not that. Milly still hasn’t got into any trouble at school. She’s quiet and studious in class, she does her work and she gets good marks (better than me, but I’m catching her up, ha ha!) and the teachers love her. Miss Bell is always giving her jobs to do. Milly, can you collect the register? Milly, can you take the dinner money to the school office? Milly, would you tidy the bookshelves please?

  Milly’s still funny and she teases people and plays jokes on them, like we did on Jennifer and Catherine. But she never does anything really bad. She’s never even been told off. Well, just the once when we were laughing in our English lesson after Jennifer told us a joke. But I got told off at the same time too!

  I don’t understand why Milly is so different at school. Especially when, here at home, she hasn’t changed at all. My dad went mad last weekend because the kitchen was in a mess again. Milly had been cooking and she hadn’t cleaned up properly. There was milk spilled on the floor, and potato peelings in the sink. It’s so strange. She seems like two different people, wild and messy and uncontrollable at home and quiet, neat and well behaved at school.

  Today we came home together, like we always do now. After a week Dad decided that I was sensible and responsible enough to get the school bus on my own. I wasn’t sure he’d think that if he knew I was travelling to and from school with Milly, but he wasn’t going to find out, so that was all right.

  Milly goes to school on her own too. Her dad always seems to be at work, and her mum almost never goes out.

  This is what we do. Milly leaves the house at 8 a.m., and I leave five minutes later. Then we meet at the bus stop two streets away and get the bus to school. When we come home, we get off the bus and one of us goes straight home while the other hangs around for five or ten minutes, so that we don’t arrive back at the house together. We take it in turns to hang around, and today it was Milly’s turn to sit on the wall next to the bus stop.

  ‘See you tomorrow, Asha,’ she called.

  I waved and set off quickly through the slushy snow. It was dark already and I shivered, feeling sorry for Milly, hanging around in the cold. I couldn’t wait to get home and have a cup of tea and carry on reading Great Expectations, which we’d started in our English class. It was really hard to follow and I had to use a dictionary to help me understand almost all the words. But I couldn’t wait to find out what happened next.

  I turned the corner into the next street. There were some teenage boys on bicycles leaning against the wall, but I hardly noticed them because I was thinking about Great Expectations. But suddenly all four of them suddenly swung their bikes round and strung themselves across the pavement, blocking my way.

  I stared at them in complete disbelief.

  ‘Oh look, what have we here?’ said the biggest boy, ginger-haired and spotty. ‘It’s one of those darkies who are taking over our town.’

  I began to tremble. Why couldn’t people just leave me alone?

  ‘Yeah, they’re everywhere now, aren’t they?’ said one of his friends, who wore a black leather jacket. He lit a cigarette and stared rudely at me. ‘You bump into’ em wherever you go.’

  ‘Please–’ My voice came out as a strangled croak, and I had to cough to clear my throat. ‘Please can you get out of my way?’

  They all laughed as if I’d said something funny. None of them moved.

  ‘They cook all that food that stinks as well.’ The ginger-haired spotty boy lit a cigarette too and blew a stream of grey smoke into the air. ‘They’re disgusting. They don’t wash either.’

  ‘We do wash!’ I cried, trying not to let any tears fall. ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about!’

  They all laughed uproariously again.

  ‘Why don’t you just go back to where you came from, blackie?’ the boy in the leather jacket taunted.

  As I stood there, angry, helpless and upset, I felt a hand slide into mine and grasp it firmly.

  ‘Ooh, look, there’s another one!’ Leather Jacket sneered. ‘I told you they were everywhere!’

  Milly had come up behind me and taken my hand. I’d never been so glad to see anyone in my life. She pulled me quickly to one side and we stepped into the road, moved round the bikes and back onto the pavement the other side. The boys shouted insults after us, but I tried not to listen. I was shaking all over, every inch of me.

  ‘Asha, are you OK?’ asked Milly urgently.

  Before I could say anything, an Englishwoman wheeling a shopping trolley down the street suddenly stopped dead in front of us. I could see she was going to say something too. I felt a slow, hot anger building up inside me. I was just minding my own business, walking down the street, and I had to put up with being bullied and called names. I hated England. Why had we come here? No one liked us.

  ‘Are you all right, love?’ The woman stared at me anxiously. Her eyes were so kind, it shocked me. I couldn’t speak, but I managed to nod.

  ‘I saw those boys stop you,’ she went on, nodding down the street. ‘Everyone knows them round here. You keep away from them, my dear.’

  ‘We will,’ said Milly. ‘And thank you.’

  The woman wheeled her shopping trolley away, and I looked at Milly.

  ‘See?’ she said, with that uncanny ability she seemed to have to read my thoughts. ‘Not everyone’s the same.’

  I realized I was still clutching her hand, but I didn’t want to let go. ‘Thanks,’ I said weakly.

  ‘You’d better go.’ Milly released my hand and gave me a little push. ‘Go on. Your mum will start worrying if you’re late, and then your dad won’t let you get the bus on your own any more, and then we won’t be able to come home together.’

  ‘You’re such a know-it-all,’ I replied, trying to smile. ‘OK, I’m going.’

  I walked away, but my knees were wobbly and I was still shaking. What would I do without Milly? I’ve realized, with a sudden flash of knowledge, that I will always be her friend after what just happened. Whatever Dad says, it doesn’t matter. I’ll never find a better friend than Milly …

  Why do things have to keep on going wrong? Why?

  It’s only a week or two since I wrote that I would be Milly’s friend for ever. Now look what’s happened.

  It’s late at night now, and I’m writing this in bed. But earlier this evening I needed to go out to the toilet. As I opened the door
of our flat, I saw Milly going downstairs. I was about to call out to her when I remembered that wasn’t such a good idea. Mum and Dad were right behind me in our flat. Dad was reading the newspaper and Mum was mending a great rip in Hardeep’s trousers (he’s always tearing his clothes to bits). So, instead, I just quietly closed the door behind me and followed Milly downstairs.

  Milly didn’t look round, so I knew she hadn’t heard me. I guessed that she was going to the very same place I was. In which case, I thought, I’ll keep out of sight and give her a fright, just like she did the day we first met!

  I watched her go round the curve of the stairs. I waited until she’d had time to go outside, and then I tiptoed after her.

  But Milly hadn’t gone outside. She was standing next to the door to Mr and Mrs Lawrence’s flat.

  I drew back into the shadows, feeling very puzzled. We all knew that the Lawrences had gone away for the week to visit relatives. They’d told us so. Why would Milly be knocking at their door?

  I peered round the turn in the stairs again, and this time my heart started banging so hard I thought it would force its way right out of my body. I was just in time to see Milly open the door of the Lawrences’ flat, glance quickly over her shoulder to make sure that no one was watching, and slip inside.

  What was she doing?

  Why did she have a key?

  Was she stealing from the Lawrences?

  What reason could there be for her to go into the flat when the Lawrences weren’t there?

  How could I ask her any of these questions?

  Things just got worse.

  I didn’t see Milly again till the next morning, Friday, when we went to school.

  ‘You’re very quiet, Asha,’ Milly remarked as we sat on the bus. ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘Nothing,’ I said quickly. ‘I’m just tired.’

  I couldn’t ask the question which had kept me awake for most of the night.

  What were you doing in the Lawrences’ flat?

  I couldn’t concentrate at school all day. It was partly because I was so tired, but mostly because I was thinking about Milly. Last night, while I was lying awake, I’d heard those light, almost noiseless footsteps moving around the house again. I didn’t believe it was the White Lady, of course I didn’t. It was Milly, wasn’t it? Had she gone inside the Lawrences’ flat again?

  It was quite an exciting day at school because a photographer came and took pictures of all the classes, but by the end of the day I was so tense and anxious, I could have stood in the middle of the playground and screamed. I couldn’t go on like this. I had to find out what Milly was up to.

  ‘The Lawrences should be back by now,’ I said casually as we went to catch the bus home. But my face was burning and my voice sounded strange even to my own ears.

  ‘Yes,’ Milly agreed. I glanced sideways at her. She looked as innocent and untroubled as an angel.

  ‘They’re nice, aren’t they?’ I mumbled. ‘The Lawrences, I mean.’

  Milly didn’t answer. She was staring ahead of us at the bus. ‘Asha!’ she whispered, clutching my arm. ‘It’s your dad!’

  For a minute I just couldn’t take in what Milly was saying.

  ‘Your dad!’ she gasped again, giving my arm a shake. ‘Asha, your dad’s driving our bus!’

  My knees buckled underneath me and I stopped dead. I stared at our bus. There was my dad in the driver’s seat. He was looking straight at Milly and me, and I knew he’d seen us come out of school together.

  What was Dad doing here? He never drove this route. He always worked in a different part of town. I swallowed hard. I was in such trouble.

  ‘Come on,’ Milly whispered, giving me a push. ‘We can’t stand here. We’d better get it over with.’

  We walked to the bus. Dad watched us every step of the way, his expression becoming grimmer and sterner every single second. Shaking all over, I climbed onto the back platform, glad that Dad couldn’t see me any more. I felt ashamed and guilty and nervous. Dad didn’t get really angry very often, but when he did, it was scary. I had a feeling this would be one of those times.

  ‘Sorry,’ Milly mumbled as we sat down.

  ‘Why?’ I said, trying to be brave. ‘It’s not your fault. I’ll be OK.’

  The bus moved off and we sat there in silence. I started wondering what Dad would think if he knew everything that I knew about Milly. He’d be even more angry than he was already. Glancing sideways at her, I suddenly felt that maybe it was her fault, just a bit. Why did she have to act so badly at home, if she didn’t at school? If she’d tried to behave herself a little better, Dad wouldn’t have minded at all if we were friends. And I wouldn’t be in this mess.

  Now, when I got home, I was going to have to wait for Dad to finish his late shift. Maybe, by then, he might have calmed down a little. But I didn’t hold out much hope.

  It’s late. I’m in bed, and Dad left me a moment or two ago. I can just about see to write in my diary by the streetlight outside my window.

  I didn’t say anything to Mum about what had happened, so she sent me and Hardeep to bed as usual. Hardeep fell asleep straight away, which I was glad about. I didn’t want him to hear Dad telling me off.

  I heard the gate outside open, then the front door. Then Dad’s footsteps came up the stairs. Our flat door opened. Dad came in. I heard him talking to Mum for a short while. And then the door to my bedroom opened.

  I sat up in bed. As Dad walked in, it was all too much for me. I burst into tears.

  Dad came over and sat by my bed as I sobbed and sniffed and gulped, trying not to wake Hardeep. I could see at a glance that he wasn’t so angry any more. He looked upset more than anything.

  ‘Stop crying, Asha,’ he said at last, handing me a handkerchief. ‘And tell me why you haven’t been doing what I asked.’

  ‘Oh, Dad!’ I sniffed, wiping my eyes. ‘It’s just – well, everything’s so new here in England, at home and at school, and Milly’s been helping me. I like having an Indian friend. She knows so much more about England than I do, and she really isn’t as bad as you think she is. The teachers at our school love her because she’s so helpful and quiet and clever, and she wants to be a teacher herself so she works hard …’

  I finally ran out of breath and risked a peep at Dad. He was frowning, but he didn’t look too angry.

  ‘Asha–’ he began.

  ‘And she helped me the other day when I was stopped by these boys in the street,’ I went on quickly. I explained what had happened and Dad’s face grew dark, but I didn’t think he was angry with Milly and me, not this time.

  ‘So you want to be friends with this girl,’ he said at last.

  ‘I am friends with her, Dad,’ I replied bravely. ‘Please don’t be angry.’

  Dad got up and walked around the room. I could see he was thinking.

  ‘Maybe I’ve been wrong,’ he muttered, half to himself. ‘It’s only natural that you’d want to be friends with someone from the same background as yourself when you’re in a new country, Asha.’ My heart lifted. ‘And anyway,’ he went on, ‘we may not be here for much longer.’

  ‘Why?’ I gasped. ‘Are we going back to India?’

  Although there were some things about England that I didn’t like, there were others I loved. With a jolt, I realized that I was already starting to think of it as my home.

  ‘No, no,’ Dad replied, shaking his head. ‘I mean, we may be leaving this flat. I want to buy a house, so we’ll be moving as soon as I can afford it.’

  I relaxed. Well, that was OK. I would still see Milly at school.

  ‘I don’t know where we’ll be living,’ Dad went on. ‘We may not stay in this area, so you and Hardeep might have to change schools.’

  That sent my heart spinning downwards. I couldn’t imagine living somewhere in England without Milly. Maybe Mum would say she didn’t want to move, I thought hopefully. I knew she’d been making friends with some of the other Sikh women who lived nearby,
and she was starting to settle down here and feel at home, like I was. But I also knew that if Dad decided we were moving away, not even Mum would be able to stop him.

  I’d just have to wait and see what happened.

  ‘So is it OK if I stay friends with Milly, Dad?’ I asked eagerly.

  Dad sighed as he went over to the door. But I could see he wasn’t angry any more. And sometimes I can get him to agree to what I want if I ask politely and smile nicely!

  ‘For the moment,’ he agreed. ‘But I shall be keeping an eye on you both, and I don’t expect to see any more of her bad behaviour around this house. Is that clear?’

  ‘Oh, yes, Dad!’ I promised fervently.

  So now I’ve got to try and make sure Milly doesn’t do anything to annoy Dad. It’s a good thing he doesn’t know about her going into the Lawrences’ flat. I still haven’t asked her about that …

  But at least we can be friends …

  Something terrible happened today. I can’t write about it now. I’m crying too much.

  I don’t know if I can write this down, even though I’ve stopped crying now.

  Mum, Dad, Hardeep and I went shopping this morning. When we came home around lunch time, the door to our flat was open. I can’t remember how I felt. Shocked, I suppose. And frightened. I thought of Milly going into the Lawrences’ flat …

  ‘Oh!’ Mum’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘Have we been robbed?’

  Dad dropped the shopping bags and rushed into the flat. Hardeep ran after him.

  ‘Come back, beta!’ Mum called, wringing her hands. ‘The bad men might still be inside!’

  Hardeep, of course, took no notice.

  ‘There’s no one here,’ Dad called from inside the flat. ‘Nothing’s been disturbed.’

  I helped Mum collect up the shopping bags and we carried them in. She immediately dropped to her knees and began pulling out the suitcases from under her bed to check on her wedding jewellery. I stood frozen to the spot, all sorts of thoughts whirling through my head.