Secrets Page 14

  Eighteen

  India

  DEAR KITTY

  I set my alarm for five so I could creep back to my room long before anyone was up. Treasure was asleep. I think she was having another bad dream because she kept twitching and groaning. I patted her shoulders gently and she sighed and turned over onto her tummy.

  ‘That’s it, Treasure. No more bad dreams,’ I whispered, and then I went down the attic steps.

  I was feeling thirsty so I slipped downstairs to the kitchen for a glass of milk. Someone was sitting there in the dark! I screamed.

  ‘Hey, hey, sh! It’s me, India.’

  ‘Dad? What are you doing? Why are you in the dark?’

  I switched the light on. Dad blinked at me, his face contorted. His eyes were red, his hair tousled, his pyjamas unbuttoned. He smelt bad too, of drink and sick.

  ‘Switch that light off, for God’s sake,’ said Dad.

  ‘You should go to bed, Dad. You look awful.’

  ‘I feel bloody awful,’ said Dad. ‘And I can’t sleep.’

  I felt in the fridge, trying to find the right bottle.

  ‘Would you like a glass of milk, Dad?’

  ‘Absolutely not,’ said Dad. He yawned and scratched. ‘India, you didn’t scream earlier on, did you? I thought I heard something—’

  ‘No, Dad,’ I said, sipping milk as nonchalantly as I could.

  ‘Oh well, it was probably a cat yowling.’ Dad paused. ‘I think I made a bit of a prat of myself at teatime, didn’t I?’ he said into the dark.

  ‘You weren’t very well,’ I said kindly.

  Dad sighed. ‘You can say that again.’ His voice was muffled. My heart started beating faster. He might have been crying.

  ‘Dad?’ I felt my way towards him.

  ‘Oh India, I’m in such a mess,’ said Dad. ‘It’s all going to come out soon. What am I going to do?’

  ‘Have you told Mum?’

  ‘Of course not!’

  ‘Have you talked things over with Wanda?’

  ‘What? No, it’s time that silly girl was packed off back to Australia.’

  The milk went sour in my mouth. How could he be so callous?

  ‘I think you’re hateful to poor Wanda. You’ve just used her.’

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake, India, you don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘Well I don’t want to talk about anything with you,’ I said, and I left him there, sitting in the dark.

  I went back to my own bed but I couldn’t sleep. When I went back downstairs for breakfast I was relieved that Dad had already left for work. Mum had gone too. It was just Wanda and me. We switched on the portable television and watched the news. Treasure was the third item. She was ‘the Latimer Estate girl who is still missing. A thirty-three-year-old man, believed to be a neighbour, is currently helping police with their enquiries.’

  ‘My God, that’s so close it’s scary,’ said Wanda. ‘That poor little kid. I wonder if they’ll ever find her.’

  ‘Don’t talk as if she’s dead!’

  ‘It’s obvious the police think this guy’s murdered her or they wouldn’t have arrested him.’

  ‘He’s not arrested, he’s simply helping the police. I’m sure they’ll let him go soon.’

  I kept seeing poor Mumbly Michael shaking his head and sticking out his tongue. I felt so bad about him. I knew Treasure was right. We had to do something to help him.

  School was buzzing with it all when Wanda dropped me off.

  ‘There, India, satisfied?’ said Alice, hands on her hips. ‘You were getting all shirty with us only the other day, telling us how sweet and lovely everyone is down at the Latimer Estate – and now here’s this sweet and lovely rapist and murderer making the news.’

  ‘Rapist? Murderer? What are you on about? There’s no proof that any crime at all has been committed. The only real crime is that everyone is jumping to stupid conclusions.’

  I said it so furiously that Alice took a step backwards.

  ‘There’s no need to get so het up, India,’ said Maria, putting her arm round Alice.

  I glared at them both contemptuously, wondering how I could ever have hung round them, desperate to be their friend. I stalked on, concentrating on my real friend.

  I’m writing this in an English lesson. We’re supposed to be plotting out some stupid story about secrets. I have far more exciting secret plans! I’m soooo looking forward to this evening. I’ll fix Treasure a real feast. I’ll snaffle a big carton of ice-cream out of the freezer and maybe a chocolate cake too. I’ll take my tin of beads and coloured threads and we’ll make each other special friendship bracelets.

  I’ve got a real present for Treasure too. I’m going to give her the beautiful Italian marble notebook Mum bought me back from Milan. I’d been planning to write my diary in it when this book is finished, but I want to give it to Treasure instead, for her diary.

  I’ll take this diary up to the attic too and share it with her. I thought maybe I could write a little passage in her diary and she could write in mine. We will share everything . . .

  It’s all over. Over. Over. Over.

  I was writing all those special secret plans in my diary when Mrs Hedges the school secretary came into the classroom and whispered to Mrs Gibbs. Then they both stared at me.

  ‘India, will you go with Mrs Hedges to Mrs Blandford’s office, please,’ said Mrs Gibbs.

  I shut my diary up with a snap and stuck it in my schoolbag quick. I wondered why on earth I had to see Mrs Blandford. She’s the headteacher. The only reason you’re ever sent to see her is if you’re in serious trouble. Everyone was staring at me now.

  I put my schoolbag over my shoulder and walked out of the classroom after Mrs Hedges.

  ‘What’s this all about?’ I asked her.

  ‘I’m not sure, dear. This lady came into the school asking if we had any pupils called India. She needs to talk to you.’

  I wondered if something awful had happened to Mum or Dad. Maybe I was being punished for writing that I’d like to be an orphan. It suddenly seemed a very sad, scary idea.

  I knocked on Mrs Blandford’s door and went in.

  There was Treasure’s nan! She was wearing a smart black suit with a pink jumper but she had no make-up on at all and her hair was pulled back in a straggly ponytail. Her face looked pulled tight too.

  Mrs Blandford was leaning forward, her elbows on her desk, her hands making a little arch, fingertips just touching.

  ‘Right, India, come and sit down.’

  I did as I was told, looking worriedly at Nan.

  ‘Where’s my Treasure?’ she said, going straight for it.

  ‘Now then, Mrs . . .?’ said Mrs Blandford.

  ‘I told you, I’m Rita Mitchell, Treasure’s nan.’

  ‘And you know India?’

  Nan sighed impatiently. ‘Yes, I said.’ She looked at me. ‘India?’

  ‘Hello, Nan,’ I said weakly.

  ‘And you know this lady’s granddaughter, Treasure, too?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Mrs Blandford’s fingers did a little tap, tap, tap against each other.

  ‘Do you know where Treasure is now, India?’ said Mrs Blandford.

  I didn’t know what to do, what to say. It was all so complicated.

  ‘Treasure’s all right, Nan, I promise,’ I said.

  ‘So where is she then?’ said Nan. ‘Is she at your home? I know you live at Parkfield – but which road? I’ve been all over the place, looking for you. Come on, India, tell me your address.’

  I swallowed. I knew how badly Treasure wanted to be with Nan but if she went back now she’d still be trapped by Terry. I wanted to keep her safe in the secret attic. I could look after her. Nan hadn’t been much use in protecting her from Terry.

  ‘I’m afraid I can’t tell you,’ I said.

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake!’ said Nan, standing up and seizing me by the shoulders.

  ‘Please, Mrs Mitchell! Sit down! Le
ave India alone!’ said Mrs Blandford.

  Nan took no notice. Her bony fingers dug into me.

  ‘Come on, India, tell me! Is she at your home? Listen, this has gone on long enough. That poor Michael will be locked up for good before we know where we are and we both know he’s got nothing to do with it.’

  ‘Mrs Mitchell, I shall have to have you removed if you don’t control yourself.’ Mrs Blandford skirted her desk and tugged at Nan ineffectually.

  ‘I can’t control myself! My granddaughter’s been missing for days – and she’s got asthma, don’t you know that, India?’ She shook me hard.

  ‘I tried to buy her some Ventolin but they wouldn’t sell it to me. It’s OK, I can calm her down when she has an attack.’

  ‘For a bright little kid you can be incredibly stupid,’ said Nan. She took her hands off my shoulders so abruptly my head jerked backwards. ‘What if you can’t calm her down? An asthma attack isn’t like a toddler tantrum. It can be very dangerous.’

  ‘Well, give me her inhaler,’ I begged.

  ‘So you do know where this missing child is, India?’ said Mrs Blandford. She sighed. ‘I think we’d better call the police.’

  ‘No! Please don’t. I don’t know, I don’t know,’ I said desperately.

  ‘Yes you do – and if something happens to Treasure it will be all your fault!’ Nan hissed.

  ‘That’s enough!’ said Mrs Blandford. ‘Sit down, Mrs Mitchell. India, I’ve phoned your mother. I’ll wait until she gets here, but then I think I shall have to bring the police in. This is all very serious.’

  ‘You’ve called my mum?’ I said, and I burst into tears.

  ‘Don’t cry, India. I didn’t mean to be so heavy with you. But I’ve got to find Treasure,’ said Nan.

  She took hold of me and drew me onto her lap. I flung my arms round her neck and started sobbing down the front of her pink jumper.

  ‘There now. Don’t cry so, pet. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it when I said it’s your fault. It’s my fault. I should never have told the kids to stay away for the day. That was just plain stupid. I’m stupid. I’ve handled this all wrong. It’s just I haven’t slept properly since Saturday. I’ve been going out of my mind worrying about Treasure.’

  Nan held me close and rocked me while I wailed. Mrs Blandford eyed us very warily, as if her study had been invaded by wild animals.

  Then I heard Mum outside, sounding off to Mrs Hedges.

  ‘What on earth is all this about? It’s ridiculous. My daughter doesn’t know the little girl who’s gone missing! She doesn’t know anyone on the Latimer Estate.’

  Mum barely knocked on the door, sweeping into Mrs Blandford’s study, her work glasses pushed on top of her head like an Alice band, a tape measure dangling round her neck.

  ‘For goodness’ sake, Mrs Blandford . . .’ she started.

  Then she saw me, sitting on Nan’s lap. ‘India! Get up! What are you doing?’ Two pink spots flared on Mum’s cheeks as if she’d been slapped on either side.

  ‘Come and sit down, Mrs Upton,’ said Mrs Blandford, attempting to take control.

  Mum stayed standing. She held out her hand to me.

  ‘India, come here!’

  I had to slide off Nan’s lap. She gave me a little pat as I did so.

  ‘There now, you go to your mum.’ Nan nodded at my mum. ‘How do you do? I’m Rita Mitchell, Treasure’s nan. My Treasure and your India are pals.’

  ‘I’m sorry?’ said Mum, pulling me towards her. She put her arm round me awkwardly. I could feel she was shaking. She looked at me. ‘You need to wipe your nose, India! Now, tell me, do you really know this lady’s granddaughter?’

  ‘She’s my best friend,’ I sniffed, taking Mum’s tissue.

  ‘But how do you know her? She doesn’t go to this school, does she?’

  Mrs Blandford looked appalled. ‘No, she doesn’t!’

  ‘I’d like to send Treasure here if I could,’ said Nan. ‘She’s a very bright girl.’

  ‘How did you get to know her, India?’ said Mum.

  ‘I – I went home from school past their flats.’

  ‘Wanda took you through the Latimer Estate?’

  ‘Wanda wasn’t with me.’ I felt mean saying it. I didn’t want to get Wanda into trouble too.

  ‘You walked through the Latimer Estate all by yourself?’ said Mum.

  ‘Yes. And I met Treasure.’

  ‘She’s been to tea, dear,’ said Nan, bristling at Mum’s tone. ‘And she came round on Saturday. That was when Treasure first went missing.’

  ‘I didn’t know where she was then, I swear,’ I said.

  ‘But you do now. You’ve as good as admitted it,’ said Nan. ‘Is she round at your place, India?’

  ‘Of course your granddaughter isn’t at my house,’ said Mum. ‘What sort of family do you think we are? We wouldn’t harbour a missing child! This is all some ghastly mistake – isn’t it, India?’

  I had to shake my head. I didn’t want to betray Treasure but I didn’t want her to have another asthma attack all by herself. I hadn’t realized they could be dangerous. Nan was right. I’d been unbelievably stupid.

  ‘She is at home, Mum,’ I said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘She’s been there all the time – but I’ve looked after her, Nan, I promise I have.’

  ‘What are you talking about, India?’ said Mum. ‘We haven’t got any child staying with us.’

  ‘You and Dad and Wanda didn’t notice. She’s in the secret attic like Anne Frank.’

  ‘She’s there now?’ said Mum.

  Nan was already on her feet.

  ‘Let’s go and get her!’

  So we set off, Mum and Nan and me. Mrs Blandford gave me permission to go. She didn’t phone the police. She obviously didn’t want the school in the headlines.

  ‘Are you going to call the police, Mum?’ I asked, as she drove us home.

  ‘I suppose I shall have to,’ Mum said, sounding dazed. ‘I don’t know. I can’t get to grips with this. Are you sure this isn’t one of your pretend games, India? She can’t be in the attic.’

  ‘She’s been in the attic since Saturday?’ said Nan.

  ‘It’s OK. She’s been eating well and I’ve given her lots of things to do and I’ve kept her company as much as possible. I spent the whole night with her to stop her being lonely.’

  ‘You slept in our attic?’ said Mum. ‘You can’t have. I looked in on you when I went to bed – didn’t I? Didn’t Dad? Or Wanda? What is Wanda playing at? She’s supposed to look after you!’

  We gave Wanda a terrible fright when we came barging in through the front door, Mum and Nan and me. She stared at the three of us.

  ‘Oh my lord, what’s happened? Is it Richard? Is he sick?’ She started shaking.

  Mum was so caught up with the whole Treasure thing she didn’t seem to find Wanda’s concern for Dad at all odd.

  ‘It’s India who’s sick. Sick in the head. Did you know about this new friend of hers?’

  ‘Oh yes. I thought it was great that she’s made a nice friend,’ said Wanda. ‘Tiffany?’

  ‘Treasure! And you let her play on the Latimer Estate?’

  ‘Look, save your argy-bargy for later. Where’s Treasure?’ said Nan.

  She started running up the stairs. I ran after her, Mum and Wanda following. Nan got to the attic steps long before us on her strong dancer’s legs. She bounded up the ladder and pushed at the trapdoor.

  ‘Treasure? Treasure, are you up there?’

  I heard Treasure gasp. ‘Nan! Oh Nan!’

  When I got up the steps myself Nan was kneeling on the floor with her arms tight round Treasure. Treasure was hugging Nan hard, her face screwed up, sobbing.

  ‘You don’t ever cry, Treasure,’ I whispered.

  She didn’t hear me. It was as if Treasure and Nan were in their own little glass dome, sealed off from the rest of us, gold glitter and silver stars whirling all around them.

  I had
tears in my own eyes.

  Mum hauled herself up into the attic too, walking around in a daze, as if she’d arrived on a different planet. She looked at the drawings on the wall, Treasure’s bed and tray and bin. She looked at Treasure herself. Then her eyes suddenly focused.

  ‘You’re wearing Moya Upton!’

  Wanda came halfway through the trapdoor, standing on the steps so that her head poked out into the attic, comically swivelling round and round.

  ‘Come along, Treasure. Time to go home,’ said Nan.

  ‘But she can’t go home with you!’ I said. ‘Then she’ll have to go back to her mum’s and Terry will be there. That’s why I hid her. She’s got to stay in hiding, don’t you understand?’

  ‘India! Don’t you dare use that tone to Mrs Mitchell,’ said Mum.

  Nan didn’t turn a hair at my tone.

  ‘She can’t stay here for ever, pet. You meant it all for the best, I know, but you weren’t thinking straight. You got carried away. You can’t keep someone hidden indefinitely.’

  ‘Anne Frank stayed hidden.’

  ‘You and that wretched Anne Frank,’ said Mum. ‘For God’s sake, India, grow up.’

  ‘I don’t want to grow up,’ I cried. ‘What’s so great about grown ups? Look at you! You all cheat and lie and pretend.’

  ‘That’s enough, India,’ said Mum. ‘There’s no need to become hysterical. I can scarcely believe all this. You can’t have kept Treasure up here for days. We would have noticed.’

  ‘You don’t notice anything. You just care about your stupid Moya Upton designs. You don’t care one little bit about me. You don’t care about Dad either. You haven’t got a clue about what’s been going on!’ I shouted, pacing up and down.

  ‘Will you stop this embarrassing display, India,’ said Mum. ‘And watch those floorboards. I don’t think they’ll stand up to you galumphing around like an elephant.’