Diamond Girls by Jacqueline Wilson Page A

with shiny door knockers and little porches and ruffled curtains at the spotless windows.
    â€˜I wish
our
house looked like these,’ I said. ‘Do you think they’re one of the other planets?’
    â€˜No, silly, these aren’t council houses, these are private. They’re posh, can’t you tell? Is Mary posh?’
    I considered. I started to worry. ‘She’s not
snooty
posh,’ I said.
    â€˜Which is her house, then?’ Jude asked.
    I couldn’t work it out. I peered at the rows of identical black and white houses. I didn’t know how to match up the fronts with the backs.
    â€˜It’s this one,’ I said, pointing at the nearest.
    Jude clicked open the metal gate. I tugged at her sweatshirt.
    â€˜No! Next door. Or the one after. I don’t
know
,’ I said.
    Jude sighed. ‘What are you like, Dixie?’ she said. ‘Come on, which is it?’
    I dithered. ‘Maybe we should go back and try the back way after all?’
    â€˜Maybe we’ll just knock on any old front door and
ask
,’ said Jude.
    She went in the next gate along. The hedge was growing out across the pavement and the car on the front drive was red and sporty.
    â€˜Not that one, Jude. This might be it,’ I said, nodding at the next house with the metal gates. The hedge was clipped into a green wall, not a leaf out of place. It reminded me of Mary’s plaits.
    Jude swung the gate open and started walking up the crazy paving path. I hung back.
    â€˜What are you waiting for? She’s
your
friend,’ said Jude.
    I trailed after her, wishing I’d held my tongue about Mary.
    â€˜Come
on
,’ said Jude irritably.
    She rapped loudly with the lion door knocker. We waited. My heart was beating as if I had a little knocker right inside my chest. Then the door opened, although the lady looking at us kept one hand on the latch so that she could slam it shut in a second.
    She was very pretty, with lovely golden hair curling almost to her shoulders and very blue eyes. They were outlined with grey pencil, very carefully, without a single smudge. Her skin was peachy with powder, her lips pearly pink. Mum didn’t often bother to do her face if she was staying in during the day, but she wore lots of black eye make-up and deep red lipstick when she went out on the razzle.
    Mary’s mum didn’t look as if she’d do any razzling down the pub or the club. She was wearing a pink fluffy sweater and a white pleated skirt. She looked like a mum in a telly advert, the sort who’d make a meal on her cooker and then serve it up on a tablecloth.
    She looked at Jude, she looked at me. ‘Yes?’ she said.
    I swallowed hard. I tried to say something but only a mouse squeak came out.
    â€˜My sister’s friends with your daughter,’ said Jude.
    â€˜I don’t think so,’ she said.
    â€˜I’m her new friend,’ I whispered.
    She was shaking her head. Jude glared at me, thinking I’d made it all up after all.
    â€˜You’re Mary’s friend?’ she said.
    I took a deep breath, nodding.
    â€˜Where did you meet her? At school?’
    I hesitated.
    â€˜They were playing together in your garden,’ said Jude, not realizing she might be getting Mary into trouble. ‘We’ve just moved in. We’re on the Planet Estate.’
    Mary’s mother nodded, watching me with her corn-flower-blue eyes. She looked like a princess in my fairy story book.
    â€˜So Mary invited you into our garden?’ said her mum.
    I knew I had to be very careful. ‘Well, no, I was in that lane at the back of our house and your house. Mary was in
your
garden. I talked to her.’
    â€˜Ah,’ said Mary’s mum. ‘Well. That’s very nice. I’m glad you’ve made friends. But I’m afraid she can’t come out to play just now, dear. She’s not very well so I’ve sent her to bed early.’
    â€˜Well, we