Diamond Girls by Jacqueline Wilson Page B

really came round to ask you a favour,’ said Jude.
    â€˜Oh?’ said Mary’s mother warily.
    â€˜I – I wonder if you could loan us—’ Jude started.
    â€˜No, I’m sorry, dear,’ she interrupted. ‘I’m afraid I never give to anyone at the door.’
    â€˜We’re not
begging
,’ said Jude, fiery red. ‘We don’t ever beg. We were just wondering if you’d loan us a candle because the lights aren’t working in our house.’
    â€˜A candle?’ said Mary’s mum. She looked surprised. Then she smiled. ‘Yes, of course. Wait here a minute.’ She shut the door on us.
    â€˜Why won’t she let us in after her? Does she think we’re going to nick her ornaments? Blow this. Blow
her
. Come on, Dixie, let’s go back,’ said Jude.
    We started down the pathway again.
    The door opened. ‘Hey, girls! I thought you wanted a candle,’ said Mary’s mum. She was holding a whole packet of them, with some matches too.
    â€˜Thank you very much,’ I said, bobbing back. ‘We’ve already got matches, but thank you for the thought.’
    She smiled as I took the candles, looking prettier than ever.
    â€˜Maybe Mary can come and play tomorrow?’ I said.
    â€˜Maybe,’ she said, still smiling.
    She closed the door again. I waited, counting the candles.
    I heard her in the hall, calling for Mary. Then I heard a sharp slap and someone crying.

8

    â€˜ YOU MEAN PIGS ! You’ve been gone such ages!’ said Rochelle. ‘I thought you weren’t ever coming back. And it’s getting dark and what are we going to
do
?’
    â€˜Candles!’ I said, jiggling them at her. ‘From my friend Mary’s mum.’
    I shivered. I hadn’t told Jude about the slap or the crying. It seemed too private and shameful. I didn’t see how anyone could hit a little girl like Mary. Maybe I’d made a mistake. I didn’t
see
the slap, I only thought I heard it. Perhaps Mary tripped over, bumped herself and started crying. Her mum couldn’t have hit her. She was the kindest sweetest mother in all the world.
    I wondered about my own mum. ‘Do you think Mum’s had the baby yet?’ I asked. ‘How long does it take?’
    â€˜Don’t ask me,’ said Jude, with a shudder.
    â€˜It can take ages. Days, sometimes,’ said Rochelle. ‘It’s the worst pain you can ever imagine. Far far far worse than the worst period pain ever, though of course you wouldn’t know about that, Dixie.’
    I thought about my worst pain ever, when some girls at my old school had punched me in the stomach until I was sick. I wondered what it would feel like to be punched in the stomach for days on end.
    I cuddled in to Jude.
    â€˜
Baby
,’ said Rochelle, but when we all flopped down on Mum’s bed she wanted to cuddle up too. ‘It’s
Pop Idol
tonight,’ she whined.
    â€˜Go on, we’ll pretend like it’s on the telly,’ I said.
    â€˜You and your pretending, Dixie,’ said Rochelle, raising her eyes to the dingy ceiling. ‘Yuck! Look, it’s filthy! We’re all going to go down with some terrible disease like rabies.’
    â€˜You get rabies from mad dogs, you nutter,’ said Jude. She bared her teeth and started growling and slavering at her.
    â€˜It’s
scabies
. A boy in my class back at Bletchworth had them. Then I fell over and hit my head and had scabs and the teacher thought
I’d
got them,’ I said.
    I wondered what the school would be like here. Probably the kids would be even nastier, the teachers even meaner.
    â€˜
Sing
, Rochelle,’ I said.
    She started working her way through old Britney and Beyonce numbers, standing on the bed and wiggling her bottom. Jude and I cheered her at the end of each song and gave her glowing reviews. Jude’s were way over the top, saying stuff like Rochelle had the voice of