Eva and the Hidden Diary (2 page)

Chapter Three

I
was about to open the first page of the diary, when Kate put her hand on mine.

‘Stop, Eva,’ she said. ‘That’s a diary. You can’t read it.’

‘Why not?’ I asked.

‘Because diaries are meant to be private. I’d die if you ever read mine.’

‘You’ve got a diary? You never said.’

Now she went red. ‘Well, I’m glad I never told you, if you think it would be OK to read it.’

‘Of course I wouldn’t read
your
diary,’ I said. ‘You’re my friend, and that would be weird, but this is different. This diary is really, really old.
It’s like a historical artifact. And we have no idea who it belongs to. Whoever wrote it must be ancient now – if they’re even still alive.’

‘Maybe it belongs to Monica’s granny or granddad.’

I shook my head. ‘No, it couldn’t be anything to do with Monica. She only bought this house a few years ago.’

‘Of course,’ said Kate. ‘I forgot that.’

‘Anyway,’ I said, reaching for the cover of the diary again. ‘There’s only one way to find out who owns it.’

Kate put her hand out again, as if she wanted to stop me, and then she pulled away. She was trying not to show it, but I could see that she was interested too.

I opened the first page, and gasped. The handwriting was beautiful, all fancy curves and loops. It was dull and faded, but I could still read what it said.

‘OMG,’ I gasped. ‘It’s totally ancient. It’s like something out of a history book.’

‘It’s still someone’s private diary,’ said Kate primly.

I ignored her. ‘It’s so cool,’ I said. ‘I wonder who Daisy Lavelle was. I wonder what she was like. I wonder if she’s alive. I wonder if she still lives around here.’

Kate shook her head. ‘There aren’t any Lavelles here. I’ve never even heard the name before.’

I caught the corner of the page, ready to turn it over. Kate was staring at me, like I was about to commit a terrible crime.

‘One page,’ I said. ‘One page and then I’ll
stop reading.’

Kate didn’t reply, so I quickly turned the page and saw more of the same elaborate handwriting. As I read the words aloud, I tried to picture the girl who had written them, so many years before.

‘OMG,’ said Kate. ‘Little Martha. That must be my granny. I love her to bits, but somehow I can’t imagine her as a sweet little girl.’

I giggled. ‘Me neither. That’s totally weird.’

As Kate was distracted by thinking about a sweet young Martha, I turned another page. I
was disappointed to see that Daisy’s birthday entry only had a few more words. I read them aloud.

‘Happy now?’ asked Kate.

I shook my head. ‘Not really. It’s kind of disappointing. I don’t think poor old Daisy has much to say for herself.’

‘Yeah, well, it’s probably not her fault. I’m guessing thirteen-year-olds in the 1940s had kind of boring lives.’

‘That’s for sure,’ I said. ‘It doesn’t sound like Daisy had the most exciting birthday ever, does it? What was your thirteenth birthday like, Kate? I hope it was more exciting than hers.’

‘My thirteenth birthday was before Dad and Zoe and Simon came back,’ said Kate. ‘Martha
did her best – she bought me a new tracksuit, and she made me a big chocolate cake, but …’

‘But what?’ I helped her.

‘But it was kind of lonely. Dad forgot to send a card, and that made me feel really, really bad.’

‘You poor thing,’ I said, starting to feel sorry that I’d brought the subject up.

But Kate just grinned. ‘Ancient history,’ she said. ‘What about you, Eva? Tell me about your birthdays.’

‘My twelfth birthday was totally amazing,’ I sighed. ‘My friends and I had a pamper day in a big fancy hotel. We went swimming, and had our hair and our nails done. Then we went for pizza and I had the biggest, sparkliest cake I’d ever seen. Everyone said it was the best party they’d ever, ever been to. Only thing is …’

‘What?’ asked Kate.

‘I feel kind of guilty about all the stuff I used to have. I had more toys than I could play with, and more clothes than I could ever, ever wear.
Back then, I thought I needed all that stuff, and now I feel bad. Think of poor Daisy – she was happy, even though her only presents were a home-made hanky, a diary and a bunch of wild flowers.’

‘And what about your thirteenth birthday?’ asked Kate. ‘What was that like?’

I sighed. ‘By the time my thirteenth birthday came around, I was older and wiser and poorer. Mum and Dad had lost their jobs, and we’d sold our big house.’

‘Poor you,’ said Kate.

‘It wasn’t so bad,’ I said, trying not to think of Kate spending her birthday all alone with Martha. ‘I’d moved to a new school, and made lots of new friends. It was a good birthday, really.’

I looked down at the diary in my hands. I was dying to read more, but the way Kate was looking at me made me feel bad.

I carefully wrapped the diary in the white
fabric and stood up.

‘What are you going to do with it?’ asked Kate. ‘You can’t put it back in the shed.’

‘I’m going to put it inside where it’s safe,’ I said. ‘Just in case old Daisy Lavelle comes knocking on the door tonight, looking for it.’

Kate giggled. I ran inside and put the diary on the dresser in the corner of my bedroom, and then went back outside to join my friend.

Chapter Four

T
hat night, Mum, Dad and I played Monopoly with Joey. As usual, Dad kept robbing the bank when he thought no one was looking, and then acting all hurt when Mum accused him of cheating. Joey laughed, because he’s just a kid, but for me the whole thing was totally, totally boring. In the end, I deliberately lost, and decided to go to bed early. I was tucked up in bed and just reaching for my book, when I spotted the diary.

‘Maybe Daisy’s ancient old secrets will send me off to sleep,’ I thought, as I opened the diary and began to read.

Daisy was describing exactly how I feel on the day after my birthday! Maybe this long-ago girl and I weren’t so different after all. I couldn’t help smiling to myself, which I know is a bit weird.

I turned to the next page. Some of the writing was so faded, it was hard to make it out, and by the time I got to the fourth page, I was already starting to yawn. But something made me want to keep on reading …

Much, much later Mum came into my room.

‘I saw your light on, Eva,’ she said. ‘Why are you still awake at this hour?’

I quickly closed the diary. ‘Sorry, Mum,’ I said.

She kissed me and switched off the light. ‘OK,’ she said. ‘Now straight to sleep. It’s after midnight.’

I lay down and closed my eyes, but I wasn’t able to sleep. I couldn’t help thinking about Daisy. Once upon a time, she had been a young girl like me. She had secrets and hopes and dreams, like me.

I knew from the diary that Daisy had slept in this exact room.

Did she look at the crack in the ceiling over the bed, like I did every night?

Did she imagine it was a mysterious river, the way I did?

Did she look at the moon shining through the window?

Did she imagine it watching over her, protecting her?

Could she ever, ever have imagined that one
day, men would walk on the surface of the moon?

I had so many questions; they were beginning to hurt my head.

When Daisy left this place, why didn’t she take her precious diary with her?

Why did she leave it hidden in a dirty old shed?

What had happened to her?

Next morning, I felt kind of weird, like I’d had really vivid dreams that I couldn’t shake free of. Only it wasn’t dreams – it was Daisy’s words that were echoing backwards and forwards through my head.

Kate and I sat in our garden for a while. I tried to concentrate on what Kate was saying, but I guess I wasn’t doing a very good job. In the end, she took me by the shoulders, and shook me.

‘Hello?’ she said. ‘Earth to Eva? Are you in there? You’re not listening to a word I’m saying.’

I knew the time had come to confess.

‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘It’s just that I’ve been reading the diary – I’m nearly halfway through it, and I’ve kind of got caught up in Daisy’s life. She was really––’

Kate didn’t let me finish. ‘You read the diary?’

I felt ashamed as she stared at me. ‘It’s just that it’s ancient,’ I said. ‘Everything I read about happened years and years ago – to someone we’ve never even met.’

‘It’s still a diary!’ said Kate.

Then she smiled. ‘But maybe I’m a bit weird about things like that. What’s she like, this Daisy person?’

‘She seems like a nice girl – sort of gentle and sweet, but funny too. She loves plants and animals and stars and stuff.’

‘Like me,’ said Kate.

‘Yeah, exactly like you – and that makes me
think that if Daisy was around now, I’d like to be friends with her.’

Kate smiled. ‘So what did she do all day, back in 1947?’

‘Kind of the same stuff we do. Listen to this.’

I pulled the diary from my pocket and began to read.

I stopped reading and gave a big sigh. ‘Do you know where Manning’s Field is, Kate?’ I asked. ‘Maybe we could go there some day, and hang out. It would be kind of cool being where
Daisy and Rose used to go, don’t you think?’

At first Kate didn’t answer. She was sitting there with her mouth half-open and a mysterious smile on her face.

‘OMG,’ she said in the end.

‘What?’ I asked.

‘Manning’s Field,’ she said. ‘That’s the field where Jeremy is.’

‘OMG, is right,’ I said. ‘That means Daisy and Rose used to hang out in our special place. They used to climb Jeremy too. That’s totally cool.’

Kate leaned closer. ‘Tell me more about Daisy,’ she said.

I smiled, glad to see that at last she was really interested in the diary. I thought back to all the things I’d read the night before.

‘Even though her dad was from France, Daisy was born in Seacove. She loved it here. She writes about it like it’s the most magical, special place in the whole world.’

‘It is,’ said Kate, grinning. ‘What else does she say?’

‘Daisy wanted to get a scholarship to go to the secondary school in the next town,’ I said. ‘So she was studying a lot. She dreamed of being a children’s nurse. She loved children, and hated being an only child.’

‘That’s sweet,’ said Kate. ‘That’s kind of the way I felt before Simon came along.’

‘Mmmm. It is sweet,’ I said. ‘I wish we could find out more about Daisy, though.’

‘Perfect timing,’ said Kate, jumping up. ‘Here comes Martha. Maybe she can help us. Maybe she remembers Daisy.’

I got up too, and went over to Kate’s granny who was just walking past our gate. We told her all about how we’d found the diary in the shed.

‘It belongs to Daisy Lavelle,’ said Kate. ‘She used to live in Monica’s house.’

Martha stopped walking and leaned on her stick.

‘Daisy Lavelle,’ she sighed. ‘Now there’s a name I haven’t heard for fifty years or more.’

I started to get excited. ‘OMG, you remember her! That’s brilliant. What was she like?’

Martha shook her head. ‘I’m sorry. I can’t tell you much about Daisy. I never really knew her well. She was a bit older than me, and her family left here when I was very little.’

‘Oh,’ I said, trying to hide my disappointment.

‘Where did they go?’ asked Kate. ‘Why did they leave?’

Martha sighed again. ‘No one around here ever really trusted Daisy’s father,’ she said. ‘Because he was French.’

‘How did a French man end up living in Seacove all those years ago?’ asked Kate.

‘I believe he came on a visit with a rich uncle of his,’ said Martha. ‘And while he was here, he met Daisy’s mum and they fell in love. The uncle had to go back to France on his own.’

‘That’s so romantic,’ I sighed.

‘I don’t get why the local people didn’t trust him,’ said Kate. ‘I think being French is kind of cool.’

‘Things were different back in the olden days,’ said Martha. ‘Someone from the next parish would have been considered a bit of a threat, and someone from another country – well that was just shocking altogether. People back then didn’t like the exotic – they liked when things stayed the same.’

‘And is that why Daisy’s family left?’ I asked. ‘Because they weren’t really accepted around here?’

‘I don’t think that was the reason,’ said Martha.

‘Then what was?’ asked Kate.

‘We’ve read her diary,’ I said. ‘And we know she loved it here. So why would she leave?’

‘I think there was some kind of big scandal,’ said Martha. ‘But I don’t know any of the details.’

Kate giggled. ‘It doesn’t sound like a whole lot of exciting stuff happened back then,’ she said. ‘So how come you don’t remember a big scandal?’

Martha smiled at her. ‘It’s hard for you young girls to understand how things used to be. In those days, children were told nothing. We weren’t encouraged to ask questions. “Children should be seen and not heard” was one of my mother’s favourite sayings.’

‘That’s just weird,’ I muttered.

‘Whenever my parents talked about the Lavelles,’ continued Martha smiling. ‘It was in whispers, and if they saw me lurking around, they would quickly start to talk about other things.’

‘And didn’t you ask what happened?’ I said.

Martha sighed. ‘Of course I asked. I asked many times. I was very fond of Daisy – she always treated me like her little pet. After they left, I sometimes went and sat in her garden,
waiting for her to come back – but she never did.’

‘That’s so sad,’ said Kate.

‘In the end I stopped asking about her,’ said Martha. ‘Whenever I mentioned Daisy’s name, my mother got very angry with me, and I didn’t understand why. I was only a little girl, and after a while, I’d almost forgotten that Daisy ever existed. I never knew the truth about what happened, so I can’t tell you any more, I’m afraid.’

‘Oh,’ I said. ‘Thanks anyway, Martha.’

‘You’re welcome,’ she said. ‘It’s always nice to talk about the olden days. They were such happy, innocent times.’

The olden days didn’t sound all that great to me, if whole families could just vanish without the neighbouring kids knowing why or how. But I just smiled at Martha, and then she continued on her walk.

Kate and I went to the beach for a while. We
talked about all kinds of stuff, but I couldn’t concentrate properly. How could I live in the present, while Daisy was always at the edge of my thoughts, distracting me?