Read Online Diamond Girls by Jacqueline Wilson - Free Book Online
Authors: Jacqueline Wilson
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stables.â
Jude had never strapped on skis or sat on a horse in her life, but we could both see her doing just that.
âAnd itâs obvious Rochelle has to be an actress. Sheâs got the looks and sheâs certainly enough of a drama queen,â said Mum.
âWhat about me, Mum? What am I going to do?â
âYouâre my little dreamer. Maybe youâll make up stories. Yeah, write books like those
Harry Potter
s. You can keep us all in the lap of luxury, eh?â Mum looked all the way round the room, and then shook her head. âWeâll get this place fixed up, Dixie. I know itâs a dump but weâve always got our home sorted and looking lovely, and weâll do it here too. It
could
be a lovely house, once itâs all clean and painted. Itâs got nice big rooms so weâll have more space. And weâve got the garden! You wanted a garden, didnât you, Dixie? Run out into the back garden, see what itâs like. Quick, before Rochelle sees you.â
I ran through to the kitchen. Bruce was labouring at the sink, his face screwed up.
âPoor Uncle Bruce,â I said.
âYeah, poor silly old fool Bruce,â he said, but he didnât stop scrubbing.
âMum says Iâm to check out the back garden,â I said. I scrabbled with the key in the back door.
âHang on, Iâll do it,â said Bruce.
âNo,
I
can do it,â I said, wrenching the key and scraping the skin off my fingers. I still couldnât get the door open though I pulled and pulled.
âThereâs a bolt at the top, little âun,â said Bruce, peeling off one of his rubber gloves. He reached over me and tried to budge it. It was a struggle even for him.
âDoesnât look like the gardenâs used much,â he said, shoving the door hard. It opened. We saw outside. Bruce whistled. âUnderstatement of the century,â he said.
It wasnât a garden at all. It was a jungle. The grass came right up to my waist. Brambles grew everywhere like crazy hedges, turning the whole garden into a maze. I gazed at purple and blue and yellow plants.
âFlowers!â I said.
âWeeds, darling,â said Bruce.
â
I
think theyâre flowers,â I said, wading through them.
âCareful! Steer clear of them nettles. Youâll be in over your head if you donât watch out. Come back indoors, Dixie,â Bruce called.
âNot yet! Itâs lovely here,â I said, thrusting my way through shrubs and ferns. There were great white flowers that really were way above my head, shading me like umbrellas.
âYou watch where youâre stepping,â Bruce muttered, but he went back indoors.
I fumbled for Bluebell and helped her soar up into the air, flying round the umbrella flowers, sweeping round the brambles, skimming the long tangled grasses. I imagined a flock of parrots to keep her company. Monkeys climbed the trees, swinging from branch to branch. Lions stalked through the undergrowth but I snapped my fingers at them carelessly. They bowed their great heads and let me stroke their beautiful golden backs . The largest lion raised his nose, opened his mouth and roared right in my face, his hot breath scorching me. I didnât flinch, though Bluebell fluttered away as fast as she could.
I trekked on fearlessly through entire continents until I came up against the Great Wall of China. It was a real brick wall, marking the end of our garden. I tried several running leaps at it to hitch myself up on top. I scraped all up and down my arms and dropped Bluebell in the grass. I tucked her down my T-shirt, and leaped at the wall again, getting the knack of it now. I hung on tight, heaving one leg up, then the other.
I was up there, sitting on the Great Wall of China itself. I peered up and down the gravelled alleyway, looking for Chinese people and rickshaws and chop suey restaurants.
âThis is your birthplace,
Jude had never strapped on skis or sat on a horse in her life, but we could both see her doing just that.
âAnd itâs obvious Rochelle has to be an actress. Sheâs got the looks and sheâs certainly enough of a drama queen,â said Mum.
âWhat about me, Mum? What am I going to do?â
âYouâre my little dreamer. Maybe youâll make up stories. Yeah, write books like those
Harry Potter
s. You can keep us all in the lap of luxury, eh?â Mum looked all the way round the room, and then shook her head. âWeâll get this place fixed up, Dixie. I know itâs a dump but weâve always got our home sorted and looking lovely, and weâll do it here too. It
could
be a lovely house, once itâs all clean and painted. Itâs got nice big rooms so weâll have more space. And weâve got the garden! You wanted a garden, didnât you, Dixie? Run out into the back garden, see what itâs like. Quick, before Rochelle sees you.â
I ran through to the kitchen. Bruce was labouring at the sink, his face screwed up.
âPoor Uncle Bruce,â I said.
âYeah, poor silly old fool Bruce,â he said, but he didnât stop scrubbing.
âMum says Iâm to check out the back garden,â I said. I scrabbled with the key in the back door.
âHang on, Iâll do it,â said Bruce.
âNo,
I
can do it,â I said, wrenching the key and scraping the skin off my fingers. I still couldnât get the door open though I pulled and pulled.
âThereâs a bolt at the top, little âun,â said Bruce, peeling off one of his rubber gloves. He reached over me and tried to budge it. It was a struggle even for him.
âDoesnât look like the gardenâs used much,â he said, shoving the door hard. It opened. We saw outside. Bruce whistled. âUnderstatement of the century,â he said.
It wasnât a garden at all. It was a jungle. The grass came right up to my waist. Brambles grew everywhere like crazy hedges, turning the whole garden into a maze. I gazed at purple and blue and yellow plants.
âFlowers!â I said.
âWeeds, darling,â said Bruce.
â
I
think theyâre flowers,â I said, wading through them.
âCareful! Steer clear of them nettles. Youâll be in over your head if you donât watch out. Come back indoors, Dixie,â Bruce called.
âNot yet! Itâs lovely here,â I said, thrusting my way through shrubs and ferns. There were great white flowers that really were way above my head, shading me like umbrellas.
âYou watch where youâre stepping,â Bruce muttered, but he went back indoors.
I fumbled for Bluebell and helped her soar up into the air, flying round the umbrella flowers, sweeping round the brambles, skimming the long tangled grasses. I imagined a flock of parrots to keep her company. Monkeys climbed the trees, swinging from branch to branch. Lions stalked through the undergrowth but I snapped my fingers at them carelessly. They bowed their great heads and let me stroke their beautiful golden backs . The largest lion raised his nose, opened his mouth and roared right in my face, his hot breath scorching me. I didnât flinch, though Bluebell fluttered away as fast as she could.
I trekked on fearlessly through entire continents until I came up against the Great Wall of China. It was a real brick wall, marking the end of our garden. I tried several running leaps at it to hitch myself up on top. I scraped all up and down my arms and dropped Bluebell in the grass. I tucked her down my T-shirt, and leaped at the wall again, getting the knack of it now. I hung on tight, heaving one leg up, then the other.
I was up there, sitting on the Great Wall of China itself. I peered up and down the gravelled alleyway, looking for Chinese people and rickshaws and chop suey restaurants.
âThis is your birthplace,
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