Read Online Secrets by Nick Sharratt - Free Book Online Page A

had to have several goes heaving herself up. We sat dangling our legs, nodding at each other.
    â€˜So what’s your name?’
    â€˜It’s heaps more stupid than yours. Treasure.’
    â€˜That’s your nickname?’
    â€˜No, my
real
name.’
    â€˜Well . . . it’s obvious your mum thought a lot of you when you were born.’
    She’d got this
sooooo
wrong.
    â€˜I’m changing it when I’m older. I like Tiffany. Or Yasmin. Or a jewel name like Amber or Jade or Ruby.’
    â€˜I want to change my name too. I want to be called Anne. You know, after Anne Frank.’
    â€˜Cool,’ I said, though I don’t know who Anne Frank is. Someone on television?
    â€˜She’s my heroine,’ said India. ‘Who’s yours?’
    I shrugged. Then I knew. ‘My nan.’
    â€˜Your nan?’
    It did sound strange said in India’s posh voice but she wasn’t going to faze me.
    â€˜She’s fantastic, my nan. You ask anyone on the estate about Rita. She’s like their queen. I live with her now.’
    â€˜What about your mother?’
    â€˜Oh, she’s got this bloke, see, and we don’t get on.’
    India didn’t look as if she did see, but she nodded politely.
    â€˜So this is my home now,’ I said, waving back at the flats. ‘Where do you live, India?’
    â€˜Oh, over there,’ she said. Her wave was a lot vaguer than mine.
    â€˜Not on our estate,’ I said. ‘You’re rich, aren’t you?’
    She went pink again, playing with a frizzy end of hair.
    I suddenly realized. ‘Hey, you don’t live in those huge great houses where they had the fireworks? Parkfield?’
    She nodded, ducking her head like she wanted to disappear inside her duffel coat.
    â€˜Wow, you lucky thing! So what are you doing hanging round our estate then?’
    â€˜I’m going home from school.’
    â€˜How come you aren’t being fetched in your Mercedes or your Daimler or whatever?’
    â€˜It’s just a Range Rover. Wanda didn’t turn up.’
    â€˜Is that your mum?’
    â€˜No, she’s . . . she’s the au pair.’
    â€˜The what?’
    â€˜Well, she stays with us and sort of works for us.’
    â€˜You mean like a servant?’
    â€˜A bit. I don’t know what’s happened to her. My mum will go spare if she finds out.’ India sighed and raised her eyebrows. They were ginger, like her fuzzy hair. ‘My mum’s this incredible drama queen. She
always
makes a fuss.’
    â€˜What about your dad? Is he OK?’
    â€˜Oh, he’s lovely. Well, he
was
– but he’s got ever so grumpy lately. He’ll yell at me for the least little thing.’
    â€˜Does he whack you one?’
    She looked shocked. ‘He’d never hit me!’ Her eyes went straight to the scar on my forehead.
    I nodded. ‘Yeah, my mum’s bloke did that. With his belt.’
    â€˜How awful!’
    I shrugged. ‘Well, that’s Terry for you,’ I said, acting like it didn’t really worry me.
    I still dream about him every night. Nan says I’ll forget him soon. Maybe this is the one time Nan’s got it wrong.
    â€˜This Terry? You said he’s your mum’s . . . bloke?’
    â€˜Yeah, but like I said, that’s past history now.’
    We nodded. There was a little pause. We looked away. We looked back at each other – and giggled.
    â€˜So, you like it here? With your nan?’ India says.
    â€˜It’s great.’ I look back at the stained concrete walls and the black plastic bags spilling rubbish. ‘Well, you probably think it’s a right dump.’
    â€˜No I don’t,’ she says quickly. ‘It’s . . . it’s very nice. Sort of cosy.’
    I whoop with laughter. ‘You are a nut, India. Cosy! Look, do you want to come and have some tea and meet