She looked shocked. ‘He’d never hit me!’ Her eyes went straight to the scar on my forehead.
I nodded. ‘Yeah, my mum’s bloke did that. With his belt.’
‘How awful!’
I shrugged. ‘Well, that’s Terry for you,’ I said, acting like it didn’t really worry me.
I still dream about him every night. Nan says I’ll forget him soon. Maybe this is the one time Nan’s got it wrong.
‘This Terry? You said he’s your mum’s . . . bloke?’
‘Yeah, but like I said, that’s past history now.’
We nodded. There was a little pause. We looked away. We looked back at each other – and giggled.
‘So, you like it here? With your nan?’ India says.
‘It’s great.’ I look back at the stained concrete walls and the black plastic bags spilling rubbish. ‘Well, you probably think it’s a right dump.’
‘No I don’t,’ she says quickly. ‘It’s . . . it’s very nice. Sort of cosy.’
I whoop with laughter. ‘You are a nut, India. Cosy! Look, do you want to come and have some tea and meet my nan?’
‘Well. . .’ She looked quickly at her little gold watch.
‘You’ve got to get back home, I suppose.’
‘Yes. No! There’s no-one there apart from Mrs Winslow and Wanda, and goodness knows where she is.’
‘Mrs Winslow?’
‘She’s . . . well, she’s the cleaning lady.’
‘Wow, you are so posh. Hey, you’re not Little Lady India, are you? Maybe I should curtsey?’
‘Shut up! Look, do you mean it? Can I really come for tea?’
‘Sure.’
‘Your nan won’t mind?’
‘Don’t be so daft, of course she won’t. She’ll be thrilled in fact. She’s worried I haven’t made any friends here yet.’
‘How long have you been here?’
‘Couple of weeks.’
‘My goodness, your nan would have a nervous breakdown over me. I’ve been living in the same house for the last five years and I haven’t got any friends. Well, not real ones.’ She pulled a face. ‘Oh gosh, that makes me sound seriously sad.’
I burst out laughing.
‘Don’t laugh at me. I can’t help it.’
‘I’m laughing at the “Oh gosh” bit. I didn’t know people really said stuff like that. I’m not laughing at you.’ I gave her a friendly dig in the ribs. ‘Come on, Nan’s flat’s in Elm block. I’d give you a ride on the bike back but it’s Willie’s and he only let me go on it as a special favour.’
She hopped and skipped along beside me and then panted up the stairs after me. I’m supposed to use the lift because of my asthma but that didn’t seem like a good idea, even though we had to hoick the bike up between us. Boys keep peeing in the lift – or worse.
I was starting to wonder if it was such a good idea inviting India back. Her eyes went round as saucers when she saw what some of the kids had scribbled all over the walls. Then she nearly jumped out of her funny freckled skin when two of Willie’s mates came barging downstairs, effing and blinding and waving their cans of lager around for our benefit.
‘Get out of our blankety blank way, little girlies.’
‘You get out of our blankety blank way, big blankety boys,’ I said back, gesturing rudely with my fingers.
I only did it because I know them, but India looked dead impressed, like I was the really tough kid on the block.
As we ran along the balcony, me scooting it on Willie’s bike, mean old Mrs Watkins banged open her door, nearly knocking me flying. She started yelling about ‘you kids’ and how someone had smashed her milk bottles the other day and it just wasn’t good enough, she was going to report it, bla bla bla. Mumbly Michael pulled faces behind her in their hallway. He’s her grown-up son but Nan says he’s not quite the ticket. I burst out laughing when he crossed his eyes and smacked his lips open and shut in a pretty accurate imitation of his mum. India started giggling too. Mrs Watkins thought we were laughing at her and yelled even louder. Nan came out on the landing.
‘My God, Mrs Watkins, you’re frightening the life out of everyone – and you’ve woken little Britney up and she’s screaming fit to bust. What on earth has happened?’
Mrs Watkins bellowed like a bull. Nan raised her eyebrows, winked at India and me, and beckoned us along the balcony. She whipped us both inside the flat, shutting the door on Mrs Watkins’ wails.
‘Daft old bag,’ Nan said, shaking her head. ‘Don’t take any notice, Treasure, she always carries on like that. And who are you, sweetie?’ Nan put her hands on India’s shoulders, gazing at her with delight. ‘Don’t you look wonderful! What a fantastic uniform. Is that the Girls’ High School?’
India nodded shyly.
‘Thought so! What’s your name, poppet?’
‘India,’ she mumbled.
‘Oh, stylish,’ said Nan. ‘I’m Rita, pet, but you can call me Nan. All the kids do.’
‘But you’re really my nan, aren’t you?’ I said proudly.
‘You bet, Treasure,’ said Nan, giving me a hug. ‘Now, darlings, are you peckish? Come in the kitchen.’
Loretta was boiling the kettle for Britney’s bottle. Britney threshed about in her baby-chair, desperate to be fed right now, this minute. Patsy was waving a rattle at her ineffectually.
‘Here, baby, come to Treasure,’ I said, unstrapping her.
I picked her up and then held her at arm’s length, pretending to be cross.
‘Oh, that’s a nice way to say hello! Pee all over the place, right? We’d better get you changed before we give you to India for a cuddle.’
‘India?’ said Patsy. ‘Cool name. What’s it like at your school then? I might be going to this special stage school and they’ve got dead posh uniform too. Can I try your funny coat on, eh?’
I whipped Britney’s nappy off and mopped her up while Patsy pranced round in India’s duffel coat, even though it was huge on her, the hem trailing on the carpet. India knelt down beside me, gingerly holding Britney’s little hand.
‘She’s so sweet,’ she said. ‘What’s that cream you’re putting on her?’
‘Zinc and castor oil so she doesn’t get a sore bum.’
‘You’re ever so good with babies.’
‘I’ve had heaps of practice,’ I said, pressing a clean nappy on Britney and stuffing her little legs back into her playsuit. ‘I used to look after my baby brother Gary practically full-time, especially when Mum was poorly.’
‘Your mum’s a waste of space as far as I’m concerned, even though she’s my daughter,’ said Nan.
I thought about Saturday and my hands started shaking so I couldn’t do up Britney’s poppers to save my life.
Eight
India
DEAREST KITTY
You’ll never ever guess what! I have this incredible new best friend, Treasure. She is so lovely – absolutely ice-cream cool and yet sooooo kind to me. She just rode up on her bike and started chatting to me like we’d been friends for ever.
I was a bit scared she might be sending me up, but she was truly friendly and invited me back for tea practically straightaway, no big deal at all, she didn’t even need to ask her grandma first.
Treasure’s grandma looks incredible, long blond curly hair and bright blue eyes and shiny pink lipstick. She was wearing a tight pink top, black trousers and pink high heels when I first met her. She cooked us tea: egg and bacon and baked beans and tomato and fried bread for Treasure and me, two eggs and four rashers and extra baked beans and tomato and practically a whole fried loaf for Willie, just baked beans and tomato for Patsy because she has to watch her figure for her future showbiz career, just toast for Loretta because she was going out with her girlfriends and she’d have a pizza later, and runny egg and soldiers for little baby Britney.
Nan served up all these different meals without fussing. She just had a bacon sandwich and a cup of tea herself, because she said she didn’t like to eat
too much before a class. I wondered if she was some kind of teacher, though she certainly doesn’t look like one. Then she went and got changed. She came back into the kitchen looking AMAZING in this little white flared skirt with a matching fringed bolero trimmed with gold, and white crocodile cowboy boots.
She winked at me. ‘I’m just dashing down to Tesco to do my shopping,’ she said. Then she roared with laughter. ‘Your face, sweetheart! No, this is my work outfit. I teach line dancing.’
‘Mum’s been the South-East area champion two years running,’ Patsy said proudly.
‘Patsy’s won all sorts of trophies and medals and stuff too, and Loretta used to dance and all, before she had Britney. And Willie’s brilliant at disco dancing. I’m the only one who’s got two left feet,’ said Treasure.
‘I’m useless at dancing. I hate school discos, I never know what to do,’ I said.
I hate the clothes you’re supposed to wear too. Moya Upton clothes.
I loved it that Treasure and all her family liked my school uniform. Mum always winces whenever she sees it. Maybe it’s just the way I look in it.
I know just what Mum would say about Treasure’s grandma in her cowboy clothes. Still I think she looked lovely, and she smelled lovely too, all powdery and perfume. She kissed everyone goodbye, even me.
‘You come round any time you fancy, India, my lovie,’ she said. ‘And you’re welcome to stay as long as you like, but I think you’d better phone home first, just to let your mum know where you are.’
She offered me her mobile. It had its own little white and gold cover to match her outfit. I said truthfully that my mum wouldn’t be home herself. Still, it looked like it was time for me to go. And I had to find out what on earth had happened to Wanda.
She was home – and in tears. She leapt at me the minute I let myself in the front door.
‘Where have you been, India? I didn’t know what to do. I’ve driven round and round looking for you. I’ve phoned your dad. He’s on his way back from work.’
‘You didn’t phone Mum, did you?’
‘Not yet. I was wondering if I ought to have phoned the police. I was sure you’d gone missing.’
‘You were the one who went missing,’ I insisted, staring her straight in the eyes. She’d been crying so much her eyes were pink, like a white rabbit. Did she care about me that much?
‘What do you mean?’ she said, flustered.
‘You weren’t there when I came out of school. I waited and waited.’
‘I was there the usual time. Well, I might have been a minute late. The traffic was really bad.’
‘A minute! Do you think I’m daft, Wanda? I’ve got a watch. I waited fifteen minutes.’
‘Don’t tell your father that, please!’ Wanda begged.
She didn’t really mind about me one bit. She was just scared she was going to get into trouble and maybe lose her job.
‘It’s true though, isn’t it?’ I said.
‘Maybe I was five minutes late – but I’m sure it couldn’t have been more than that. I fell asleep. I wasn’t even on my bed, I was sitting at the kitchen table and I just nodded off. Mrs Winslow just left me there. Can you imagine anyone so mean? She just doesn’t like me. No-one likes me.’
Wanda started crying again. I couldn’t help feeling sorry for her. I put my arms round her.
‘Don’t cry, Wanda. It’s OK. Look, I like you.’
‘Your mother hates me. She said the most terrible things to me last night. She says I’m totally useless—’
‘She thinks I’m useless too, she thinks everyone is. Never mind her. Look, my dad likes you.’
‘Does he? Does he really? What has he said?’
Wanda was suddenly peering eagerly at me out of her long dark hair, tears still rolling down her cheeks. I felt hurt. She didn’t seem to care one way or the other when I said I liked her.
I took my arms away. ‘Oh, I don’t know. I’m not sure he’s actually said anything – but of course he likes you.’ She looked so pathetically pleased I couldn’t help adding spitefully, ‘He’s liked all our au pairs.’
That made her droop again.
‘But maybe I won’t tell him you were at least fifteen minutes late,’ I said.
Wanda looked hopeful.
‘I promise I won’t do it to you again, India. I was just so tired. I’m not sleeping properly at night. It’s awful, I just toss and turn.’
She did look tired out. The dark smudges under her eyes weren’t just her eye make-up.
‘Yeah, OK, I’ll make out I just waited a minute or two, right? Only maybe you can do something for me in return?’
‘You mean chocolate? OK,’ said Wanda eagerly.
‘No, I mean a bit more than chocolate, actually. Look, it’s a little bit mad your coming to meet me after school all the time. It’s so babyish. And you’ve got other things to do – like sleep.’
‘India, I slept once.’
‘So why don’t we have an arrangement? I’ll come home from school by myself. I promise I’ll always be home long before Dad or Mum gets back. OK?’
‘No, of course it’s not OK! What are you up to, India? Where did you go today?’
‘Well . . . this odd guy was waiting outside the school and he asked if I wanted to go off and buy some sweets with him—’ I burst out laughing at the expression on Wanda’s face. ‘Joke, Wanda!’
‘You didn’t go off with any guy?’
‘Of course not! No, I went and played round at my friend’s place.’ The word ‘friend’ tasted like honey on my tongue.
‘You’ve got a friend, India?’
I felt insulted but I needed Wanda on my side so I didn’t over-react.
‘Tell me all about her,’ Wanda said. She fixed me a cup of hot chocolate with extra whipped cream on top. I was still full from Rita’s scrummy fry-up but I can’t ever resist hot chocolate. Wanda said she didn’t fancy one herself, she was feeling a bit queasy. She kept me company while I licked and sipped and told her all about Treasure.
I didn’t tell her the truth of course. Wanda isn’t snobby like Mum and Dad but she might get a bit fussed if she knew I had a friend on the Latimer Estate. I called Treasure by her own favourite name Tiffany and I pretended she was in my class at school. I said she had a fantastic grandma – I turned her into an ex-ballet dancer who now works in the arts. I am very skilled at lying when I want to be.
Wanda is lousy at it. Dad arrived home in a right state but when he saw me he hugged me tight as tight, even picking me up and whirling me round like he did when I was little. It was so great to have him back being Dad again. I felt I could whirl right up to the ceiling and revolve around the trendy lily light-fittings all by myself.
But then Dad sat me down and turned to Wanda. He asked her why the whatsit she hadn’t met me from school. Wanda blushed a painful meat-red and said she’d only been a little bit late, maybe a minute, but it was obvious she was fibbing. I had to butt in quickly and tell Dad it was all my fault – I’d gone dashing off with this new friend of mine and it had been very thoughtless of me and I wouldn’t ever worry poor Wanda again.
‘Never mind Wanda. You’re not to worry me, oh Special Exotic Continent,’ Dad said – another pet name he hasn’t used for ages.
Then we had the most beautiful time together, Dad and Wanda and me. We watched children’s telly, Dad imitating half the people until we were in stitches. Then Dad said he was peckish and didn’t want to wait for dinner so he went out for a pizza – each!
Wanda only ate a weeny slice of hers so I ate the rest, gobbling quickly in case Mum came home early and created a drama about my mega-calorie consumption. But she came home even later than usual, long after I’d gone to bed, because there was some boring crisis about her new baby range (the weeniest little brushed denim black-and-white striped dungarees with black sweatshirts and black pull-on booties and little black fleece jackets with hoods. I wanted Mum to give me an outfit for my old teddy Edwina but she raised he
r eyebrows and sighed as if it was hugely embarrassing having a great lump of a daughter still playing with teddies so I didn’t pursue it and Edwina’s still in her bobbly pink cardi and a droopy yellow dress that clashes with her fur).
It was great that Mum was late because Dad came to tuck me up when I went to bed. He was still in his lovely good mood. He gave me a kiss on each ear and one on my nose. He kissed Edwina’s one ear and nose too. Then he cuddled us both and said, ‘Night night, Sleep tight, Don’t let the bears bite’ and he made Edwina attack me with her little sewn smile.
It’s just like the old days. I’m sooooo happy. Dad still loves me lots and lots. Wanda and I have our special secret pact. And I’ve got a best friend!
It’s not like the old days. Something’s going on between Dad and Wanda! I woke up early this morning. I heard Mum slamming the front door. She always goes really early, fitting in a jog before work. I lay in bed having a happy doze with Edwina. I heard Wanda going downstairs, her teddy-bear slippers going slop-slop. She started talking to Dad down in the kitchen. I couldn’t hear a word they were saying but I could tell something was wrong. Wanda’s voice went drone drone drone and then Dad’s voice went buzz buzz buzz.
I wondered if Wanda had decided to come clean with Dad and tell him the truth about last night. I shot downstairs in my pyjamas to see if I could salvage the situation. They both jumped when they saw me. Wanda was in her pyjamas too, well, her vest-top and shorts with a Little Miss Happiness motif. Wanda looked like Little Miss Total Gloom and Despair, her eyes brimming with tears.
‘Please don’t be cross with Wanda, Dad. It’s all my fault,’ I said.
Dad stared at me. Wanda stared at me. I realized they didn’t have a clue what I was talking about. They seemed to be discussing something else entirely. It was so weird. Dad was angry and Wanda was upset but I think they were holding hands! They sprang apart the moment they saw me so I can’t be sure, but whenever I replay that scene in my head I see their hands, Dad’s big pink fingers clasping Wanda’s white fists.
Which means . . .
I don’t want to think about it. Dad and Wanda? He doesn’t even like her, I know he doesn’t.
Secrets Page 6