Secrets Read online

  ‘That’s enough, India! Less of the smart talk. Just eat!’

  ‘For God’s sake, leave the kid alone, Moya,’ said Dad. ‘She can’t help it if she can’t stick rabbit food.’

  He gave me a significant wink to show me that he understood that pasta and ice-cream were my favourites. He wasn’t making much headway with his own salad, though Mum allowed three slices of honey-glazed ham on his plate. It’s a wonder she hadn’t carved them into three little pink pigs.

  We sat there, staring at our plates. Mum toyed with her own salad, eating with her fork in her right hand, American style, because she thinks it’s more dainty. Wanda put her own fork down and asked if she could be excused as she was going out early with Suzi.

  ‘Thank goodness,’ said Mum, when Wanda was scarcely out of earshot. ‘That girl is so depressing. I think we’re going to have to get rid of her.’

  I looked at Dad. He chewed his ham, his face carefully expressionless. Then he swallowed.

  ‘Yes, she is a bit of a drag,’ he said. ‘See if you can find some kind way of sending her packing. Concern for her health, shame that she’s homesick, something along those lines.’

  I couldn’t believe it. He was betraying Wanda so casually. He didn’t love her one little bit. He was bored with her so Mum was doing him a big favour. I felt so sorry for Wanda, even though I don’t like her much either and don’t really want her to stay.

  ‘What is it, India?’ Mum said.

  I realized I’d been sighing. Dad looked at me anxiously.

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘I do wish you’d buck up a bit. You seem so doleful recently. Bella says you’ve been writing really weird letters to Miranda.’

  I felt my face flush as pink as Dad’s ham.

  ‘What do you mean, weird? And how does Bella know? Does Miranda show them to her?’

  ‘Now now, calm down. Why do you always have to get in such a state about things? Miranda just happened to mention that you sounded rather lonely. You said you were missing her a great deal.’

  ‘No I’m not. I don’t miss her one little bit.’

  ‘Oh, India. Typical! I’ve just been trying to fix up for us to have Miranda to stay one weekend.’

  ‘Well you can unfix things, Mum, because I can’t stick Miranda. I’ve got another friend now.’

  I couldn’t stop my tongue saying it. Mum looked up. Even Dad seemed interested. They both had their heads tilted to one side to indicate a question. I knew I couldn’t give them any real answers.

  ‘Come on then. Tell us about her. Do you want to invite her round for tea sometime?’ said Mum.

  ‘No!’

  ‘Is she in your form at school?’

  ‘Well . . .’

  ‘What’s her name?’

  ‘Look, don’t go on about her,’ I said, and I got up and rushed out of the room.

  I heard them talking about me as I went up the stairs.

  ‘Oh dear, why does she always have to be so prickly?’ said Mum. ‘Do you think she’s really got a friend at school at last?’

  ‘That school! I simply can’t manage those school fees any more.’

  ‘Well, I’ll pay them if it’s such a problem – though I’m sure you’re exaggerating all your financial difficulties.’

  They started arguing about work and money and forgot all about me. I went upstairs and stared miserably out of my window. I thought about Anne. I love the passage in her diary where she says she can’t bear her mother and wishes she could slap her. But Anne always loves her father and looks up to him so much. I suppose I still love my dad but I can’t respect him any more.

  I leant my forehead against the cold glass, looking down the long avenue. It looked pretty bleak, grey pavement, bare brown trees, cream stucco and beige brick houses – and a little flash of red. I stared. It was Treasure! She was trudging along, her face white and screwed up, her fringe tangled, showing her ugly scar.

  I tapped on the window. She couldn’t hear me, wasn’t even looking at my house. I struggled with the safety catch, wrenching my fingers. I got it open just as she was walking past.

  ‘Treasure!’ I hissed.

  She spun round, head jerking to left and right.

  ‘I’m up here!’

  She looked up and spotted me.

  ‘India!’ she said joyfully.

  ‘Sh!’ I put my finger to my lips. ‘Wait there! I’ll be down in a sec.’

  She stood still, waiting obediently. I gave her a little wave and then flew across my bedroom, crept along the landing, and edged down the stairs.

  I didn’t want Mum and Dad to meet Treasure. I knew exactly what they’d be like. They’d think they were being sooo nice. ‘Oh, Treasure! What an unusual name! But lovely.’

  ‘Where do you live, poppet? Oh, the Latimer Estate! I’ve heard they’re really attractive flats once you get inside. They’ve got a lot of character – in their way.’

  ‘So you’re India’s friend, are you? Well, you must come and play as often as you like. Don’t feel shy, will you? You’ll always be very welcome. Really.’

  I knew what they’d say after she was gone too.

  No, I was determined to keep Treasure all to myself. Mum and Dad were still busy rowing. They’d closed the dining-room door so I couldn’t hear. That meant they couldn’t hear me! I crept across the hall, opened the door, left it on the latch, and shot down the drive to Treasure.

  ‘Treasure! This is so great! I went looking for you, but you weren’t at your nan’s. I saw him, your mum’s boyfriend, and he’s so scary!’

  ‘You can say that again,’ said Treasure. She tried to sound like she was joking but her voice wobbled.

  ‘What’s he done to you, Treasure?’

  ‘Nothing this time. I got away. But he’s still there, at Nan’s. I can’t go back. I can’t . . .’

  She started crying, though she kept wiping her eyes fiercely with her fists.

  I put my arms round her. She was shivering inside her scarlet coat. She felt so small. She made me feel big and powerful. I knew I had to protect her. I had to save her from that hateful monster. I had to hide her.

  And then it came to me.

  It was so wondrously simple.

  Treasure was like Anne Frank.

  ‘Come with me, Treasure!’ I said, tugging at her.

  ‘I – I can’t. I don’t want to meet your mum, not like this. I look a mess,’ said Treasure, sniffing and wiping.

  ‘You’re not going to meet her. You’d hate her anyway. No, you’re coming with me. But keep quiet, eh?’

  Treasure still looked doubtful, but she let me pull her up the drive and in through the door. She peered round the hall, her head swivelling.

  ‘It’s OK,’ I whispered, nodding towards the closed dining-room door. Dad and Mum were still at it. Dad said something and Mum suddenly yelled furiously. Treasure’s mouth dropped open.

  ‘Is that your mum?’ she whispered. ‘She’s swearing!’

  ‘She often does. She thinks it’s cool,’ I said scornfully. ‘Come on.’

  I took her by the hand and lead her up the stairs. Treasure peered round at all the paintings as if she was in a museum. She stopped when we got to the alabaster boy on his pedestal on the landing.

  ‘Look at his little willy!’ she giggled. She gave it a quick flick with her finger.

  ‘Come on,’ I said, pulling her past.

  I took her up the stairs again.

  ‘Your house is huge,’ said Treasure. ‘Which one’s your bedroom?’

  ‘It’s that one, but I want you to—’

  She wasn’t listening. She peeped inside my bedroom and then just stood there, silent. Her eyes blinked rapidly behind her glasses.

  ‘Oh India!’ she gasped. It was as if all the breath had been sucked out of her.

  ‘It’s a bit of a mess,’ I said quickly, shoving Edwina Bear under my pillow and kicking yesterday’s socks and knickers under my bed.

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ said Tr
easure.

  She walked very carefully over to my bed, as if she was scared her trainers might mark the crimson carpet. It is a great bed, I suppose, like a four-poster in a fairy tale with black barley-sugar posts with little frogs carved on the top. It’s got black satin hangings tied with crimson ribbons and a black satin patchwork quilt with little beads and buttons appliqued to each patch. It was my tenth birthday present. I thought it was pretty special at the time but now I suppose I’ve got used to it. There’s a dressing-table too, black, with red lightbulbs all round the mirror, and each drawer has a tiny frog’s head at either end of the handle.

  Treasure glanced at herself in the mirror, wiped her nose quickly, and tried to flatten her fringe over her forehead. Then she walked over to the wardrobe. There are frogs carved into the black wood, hopping in spirals. Treasure traced them with her finger, looked at me for permission, and opened the wardrobe door. She stared at all the clothes stuffed inside. I wondered if she minded having to wear really tacky clothes like her red coat. I thought about offering her some of my stuff – but of course they’d all be too big.

  I knew the clothes that would fit her.

  ‘Come with me, Treasure,’ I said.

  I led her out of my room – though she kept looking back longingly – along the corridor to the attic steps. I clambered up, got the trapdoor open, and switched on the light. Treasure climbed after me, panting a little. I had to help haul her up.

  She lay on the floor breathing heavily.

  ‘Treasure? Treasure, are you all right?’

  ‘It’s just my asthma. I haven’t got my inhaler. I dropped my bag when Terry came after me. Oh help!’

  She sat up slowly, trying to take deep breaths. I patted her gently on the back to express sympathy. She wriggled away, giggling again.

  ‘It’s like I’m a baby being burped! I think I’m OK now. Have you got any pets, India? I’m a bit allergic to animals. Ha, that’s why I can’t stick Terry!’

  ‘There’s Tabitha, our old cat. But it’s all right, she never comes up here. No-one does. That’s the beauty of it! This can be your room, Treasure!’

  She looked round at the clothes and the trunks and the boxes of books, bewildered.

  ‘We’ll fix it up. I’ll bring all sorts of stuff. The armchair’s quite comfy, I sit here myself sometimes. There’s a camp bed, look, and a spare duvet – or you can have my pretty patchwork quilt if you like, I don’t mind a bit.’

  Treasure was walking slowly round the attic.

  ‘What do you mean, it’s my room?’

  ‘You can hide here. It’s a secret attic. You know, like Anne Frank.’

  Treasure stared at me.

  ‘But what about your mum and dad and this Wanda?’

  ‘They won’t ever find you. They never come up here. They don’t notice a thing anyway. You can stay as long as you like, until that horrible man gives up and goes away.’

  ‘Oh India, you’re a true friend,’ said Treasure, and she clasped my hands.

  I squeezed her tightly back, so happy I wanted the moment to last for ever. But I had to get busy getting Treasure settled for the night.

  ‘I’ll be right back,’ I said, rushing off.

  I hung over the landing to hear if Mum and Dad were still quarrelling. I wasn’t sure when Wanda might get back either. I had to be quick.

  I rushed all round my room, gathering bits here, bits there, frantically piling things into a pyramid on my carpet. It looked as if I’d have to rush up and down the attic steps again and again. Then I had a sudden sensible idea – I’d pack everything in my suitcase!

  I managed to cram most things in. Then I had another thought. I grabbed my wastepaper bin too.

  Treasure burst out laughing when I dragged everything up into the attic after me.

  ‘You look like you’re going on your holidays. Oh, and I’ve even got something for my rubbish!’

  ‘Well, I thought you could use the wastepaper bin for . . . you know, when you have to go to the loo. I know it’s not very nice, but Anne Frank and her family had to do it sometimes and they managed. I’ve got some tissues for you too.’

  ‘Can’t I use your toilet?’ asked Treasure.

  ‘Well, you can during the day, if Wanda’s not around, or Mrs Winslow our cleaning lady, but you’ll have to be very careful. And I’ve brought you some food, look.’ I gave her my entire supply of chocolate and crisps and Coke, even though I was starving hungry after not eating my salad tea.

  Treasure lined the chocolate bars up in a row, touched the clean nightie and my thick Arran cardigan, looked at my drawing pad and crayons and then picked up the book I’d put there. The Diary of Anne Frank.

  ‘I knew it!’ she said, smiling. ‘Well, I’ll have to read it now, won’t I?’

  Thirteen

  Treasure

  INDIA’S SO KIND. She’s the best friend in all the world. I’m sitting here wearing her posh nightie and her cuddly cardi, eating her chocolate, and I’ve already read fifty pages of her precious Anne Frank. She’s in her secret annexe now. And so am I.

  It doesn’t seem real. India’s acting like she’s practised for this moment all her life. She’s crept back twice this evening just to make sure I’m all right, and each time she’s brought me more stuff. She even offered me her teddy bear. ‘Though you probably think I’m an awful baby having a teddy bear. I just keep it for old time’s sake. I don’t play with her – it. Still, I thought it might make you feel cosy?’

  I said it was very sweet of her but I didn’t really want her old teddy. I’ve never had my own teddy bear. I don’t quite get why kids like them. I did have some Barbie dolls when I was little because they were cool with their pointy breasts and high heels and all their tiny adult outfits. Mum quite liked playing with them too. We’d play fashion models and famous actresses and Mum would give them all different voices and make them lark about.

  It was great when I was little and it was just Mum and me.

  No it wasn’t. She mostly didn’t want to play, she just wanted to lie back and smoke her roll-ups and drink and watch telly and if I pestered her she’d yell at me or give me a shove or a smack. She’d really lose it sometimes, telling me it was all my fault, if I hadn’t been born she’d be out with her mates having fun instead of stuck at home night after night with a boring little brat like me.

  Loretta is even younger than my mum was when I was born and she’s stuck with Britney but she doesn’t yell at her, she makes a big fuss of her. But Britney is pretty, with big blue eyes and lovely golden hair. She’s so cute Nan thinks she should do a spot of modelling for magazines.

  I’ve never been cute. I’m kind of ugly now but I was worse as a baby because one of my eyes was squinty and I had hardly any hair and eczema all over so I was scabby and cried a lot. Maybe it’s not surprising my mum never went a bundle on me.

  Nan always loved me though. When I was little I stayed with Nan lots but then Mum got this boyfriend – not Terry, it was four or five blokes before him – and we moved up North because the houses were cheap but he couldn’t get a job so that was a dead loss. All my mum’s boyfriends have been awful. Sometimes they had kids but they didn’t come and live with us too. It was always just Mum and me and the boyfriend until she took up with Terry. Then I had to get used to having Kyle and Bethany around all the time. Their mum had gone a bit mental on drugs so Terry got custody. If he could kid the court he was a fit father once I bet he could do it again.

  He is quite a good dad to baby Gary, playing aeroplanes with him, whirling him up and down and making him whoop. He’s OK with Kyle and Bethany too. He bought them both bikes and scooters and he acts the fool with them, wrestling with Kyle and tickling Bethany until she squeals. He’s tried it with me too but I can’t stand him pawing me about. So then he starts getting at me.

  My own dad can’t have thought much of me either because he pushed off the minute I was born. Well, who cares? I’ve pushed off now. I shall hang out here until . . . I d
on’t know. I can’t stay here for ever.

  I’m so fussed about Nan. She’ll be so worried about me. I’ll have to try to let her know I’m OK.

  I am OK. Though I wish I had my inhaler in case I get wheezy. My chest feels a bit tight. I could do with a drink but that’s not a good idea. I’m trying to avoid going to the loo.

  It’s awful having to use India’s wastepaper bin. It’s so pretty too, black with pink roses to match her magical bedroom. I waited and waited, fidgeting, legs crossed, but eventually I had to give in and go. It was weirdly hard to get started even though I wanted to go so much, mostly because I couldn’t sit properly, I just had to hang there. Once I got going I went so much I started to worry I wouldn’t be able to stop. What if I carried on until the wee slopped right over the edge of the bin and flooded the floor? But it eased off eventually and the bin didn’t get too full – though I won’t be able to go all that often. And what am I going to do about the other thing? I shall die when India has to empty it.

  I keep looking longingly at the bottle of Coke. I wish I hadn’t eaten all that chocolate. I know it’s India’s secret supply. Am I going to have to live on chocolate all the time? I’d give anything for one of Nan’s fry-ups. No, that’s so ungrateful to poor India. I am lucky, lucky, lucky to have such a wonderful friend.

  Fate was kind to us, letting India look out of her bedroom window just as I was going by.

  That bedroom! I had no idea India’s so rich. Her dad must earn millions. And her mum. I can’t believe that she’s really Moya Upton, the designer! I wonder if those are Moya Upton clothes in the corner?

  They are soooo cool, the most wondrous clothes ever. India is MAD not to like them. I’ve just sorted all through them. I’ve tried heaps of them on. I hope India’s mother won’t mind. That is the most stupid thing I’ve ever written. She’d mind me hiding in her attic far more!

  I particularly like some black trousers and a black top with a sequin rose. They fit me, even though I’m so small and skinny! I wish I had a mirror. Maybe I’ll wear them tomorrow if India doesn’t mind. I’m back in the nightie now. I should try to go to sleep. I don’t feel tired though. I don’t even want to sit for long. I feel like I want to keep running. I keep thinking about Terry.