In years to come

[kate]

ohh! I'm like India, I don't want to read the last page

[suse]

Fantastic Sophie.

Cannot wait to see whats on the last page ;D.

But make sure it's good though...don't upset me!

[sophie]

Saturday 7th May 2004

We're going home now, back to our boring life in Sydney. I'll just be Didge Parker again - schoolgirl, sister, daughter, friend: nothing more, nothing less. I can hear Mum and Dad bickering outside about packing and while they do I'll tell you what happened last night.
It felt like midnight would never come. The day felt so long and I felt dazed. It felt special even though I was doing boring things, like helping Mum cook dinner. I was chopping the carrots when she asked me,
"Are you okay, sweetheart? You're off in a world of your own."
I shrugged and she asked me if I was still sad about going and I nodded.
"We'll come back soon, we always do."
"It won't be the same," I mumbled.
"What do you mean?"
"It just won't."
She gave me a hug.
The Sound of Music was on TV so we watched that. I think it's a bit dumb and so do Dad and Riley but Mum loves it. She was so silly and daggy - when Liesel was jumping round the summerhouse singing I am sixteen going seventeen Mum took me by the arms and danced us round the room.
"Mum!" I shouted, laughing, pretending to pull away.
"I wonder what you'll be like when you're going on seventeen, Didge?" Dad wondered.
"Probably a teenage terror!" Mum joked.
"Kissing boys!"
"Going to dance parties!"
"Drag racing!"
"Shut up!" I protested.
"Oh, you're too good for any of that," Mum said, backing me up.
"Maybe I'll be bad," I warned them and they laughed.
"If you do, we'll make sure you grow out of it! And we'll ground you for a lifetime!"
"Let's just watch the film!" I pleaded.
I went to bed at eleven - I pretended to, anyway. I wore a T-shirt and shorts underneath my pyjamas and when the house was quiet and still I climbed out of the window, making sure it wasn't shut, took my bike, and cycled as fast as I could to the tree.
For a moment I couldn't see him - it was pitch black. Then suddenly a bright light flashed and I nearly had a heart attack - it was John with a torch.
"You nearly frightened me to death!" I hissed at him.
"Bridget," he said in a funny voice and all my annoyance drained from me. He's never said my full name like that or sounded so serious.
"What is it?"
"I've got to go. Now. Well, in five minutes."
"Go where?" I asked, puzzled. And then I feebly joked, "I thought it was just me who was leaving."
"I don't know where we're going," he said in that strange voice again. "But we have to go. My mum and brothers and me, I mean. We're in danger."
"From what? Look, stay there, I'll get Mum and Dad, they can help-"
He grabbed my wrist.
"Don't you dare! There's nothing you can do. There's nothing they can do. We're in trouble. We've always been in trouble. It hasn't been easy since Dad died - we haven't had much. We still don't. And Mum feels bad that she can't work more and give us more money so she got caught in this scam thing..."
"John, that's wrong-"
"I know it's wrong!" he snapped. "Of course it's wrong! I told her it was, she just wanted to help us, not hurt others, she got caught up in it all...but she realised it was wrong and wanted out but those guys from the scam weren't so keen. We've run from them ever since. They've never caught us - we've always got away. We've got to get away now. In case. Mum's just gone and buried lots of stuff they could find us with under the soil in the chook shed."
"But..."
"Look, we'll be fine, we always are. We might not even go very far away. I might be able to come back when you do as well."
I couldn't help it, a tear ran down my cheek and I wiped it away.
"Don't get emotional on me," John warned, his own voice wobbling. "I thought you weren't like other girls."
"I'm not," I protested, cursing myself as more tears fell. "I'm not."
"Don't worry about me and don't tell anyone. I promise we'll be fine. I swear it."
A horn beeped and he looked behind his shoulder.
"I've got to go."
"But-"
Before I could say anything else he leant forward and gave me the quickest of kisses on the top of my lips.
"Goodbye, Bridget."
He turned off the torch and ran away into the darkness as I weakly called, "Goodbye!" after him.
Was it my first kiss? I don't know if it counts - it felt like it to me but I'll never tell anyone.
I cycled back, crying, and climbed through the window.
I nearly had another heart attack - the light was on and Riley was sitting on my bed.
"What the hell are you doing?!" I hissed.
"I was about to ask you the same thing!" he whispered back furiously. "You're lucky you came back when you did, if you hadn't come back a minute later I'd have got Mum and Dad."
"You dobber! I'd have killed you if you had."
"Mum and Dad would have killed you first. I reckon they're wrong, you're not that good. I bet you will be a terrible teenager. And it's not dobbing anyway, it's looking after you. Oh Didge, don't cry."
"I'm not crying about that!" I said, though I was, a little.
"It's that boy, isn't it?" That was - what is it called - a rhetorical question. No point in asking it. "Didge, boys aren't worth wasting tears over. And you're too young for them anyway."
"You DID follow me that day! I knew it! But I didn't know you saw us."
"Looking infatuated with each other," Riley said in disgust. "You're much too young for a boyfriend."
"He wasn't my boyfriend!"
"Sure," he said sarcastically.
"He wasn't! Just a good mate."
"Sneaking out for a midnight meeting with a good mate?" Another stupid rhetorical question. "What was his name?"
"John. I might never see him again."
"You will - oh don't start crying again!"
"I'm not!" I sniffled. "Hayfever..."
"Oh, come on." He put his arm round me and I cried a little into my big brother's shoulder.
"Are you going to tell Mum and Dad?"
"You're back safe and sound, aren't you? We're going home tomorrow. I didn't see you do anything - and that's not much of a lie."
"Thanks, Ri." I gave him a hug.
"Oh, don't get soppy," he said, but he smiled. He went back to his room and somehow I fell asleep.
I had a text this morning from an unknown number.
Didge - this is from my brother's phone before he throws it away. I just wanted to tell you that we're okay, we're safe. You don't have to worry. I had the best few weeks with you. I can't believe I'm saying this to a girl, but I did. I hope I do see you again - have a safe trip back to Sydney - John xxx

That was a relief. I guess he's okay now - and what could I tell people anyway? He's my secret and I'm his, I suppose. I'll never forget him or this trip. I tried ringing the number but it was disconnected.
Well, Dad's just yelled, "Homeward Bound!" so I'm leaving you too. I'm going to put this diary under the floorboards of the wardrobe, I don't want anyone ever to find it. Maybe I'll have kids one day and they'll find it, or I'll show them. I've never told anyone, but I've always wanted a daughter. I hope I have one some day.
I'm going.

Love, Bridget xxxx

[kate]

[Bee]

that was excellent Sophie!! i loved every second of it!

[suse]

Wow.

I was glued to every word.

[sophie]

Thanks! I hope it wasn't upsetting in a bad way! I felt quite sad writing it.

[sophie]

The only entry where her mother had signed her real name. India lay on the bed and curled into a ball, crying, with the diary clutched to her chest. It wasn't fair. None of it was fair. It wasn't fair that Mum and John had got separated, it wasn't fair that they had never seen each other again but most of all it wasn't fair that Mum had died. Died, so she had never known her daughter. The daughter she'd always hoped she had - maybe not at that point in time but still loved. India had never wanted her mother so much in her life.
She didn't know how long she lay there for - it didn't matter. None of it changed anything. India felt terribly angry about it all, but terribly angry was by far too weak a description. She wanted to hit something, someone, and to have someone to blame for it all. But there wasn't anyone. The world just wasn't fair.
Finally she got up and stared at herself in the mirror. She looked dreadful - a red, blotchy face, messy hair and a need to blow her nose.
"I don't care," she said stuffily to her reflection, as though it were judging her, as though someone was watching.
"I don't care."
Even so, she pulled a brush through her hair, wincing at the tug on her tangles, and went through to the bathroom to wash her face. She splashed cold water all over and dried it with a towel and it made her feel a little better. At the very least, she didn't look so sad.
She felt hemmed in and suffocated. All she wanted to do was ride her bike to the tree. It was childish and impossible, but she wondered if John would be there - stupid, she scolded herself. If John was still there he'd be an adult, the same age as Dad - people don't freeze in time, even if they are characters in a mother's diary. And why would he be there? He and his family had moved away in fear and desperation a long time ago.
As if she could ride out to the tree anyway, India thought, looking outside, even if she wasn't grounded. The wind was howling and rain was beginning to spatter the window panes.
No one had known any of this about Mum. They all had thought they knew everything about her but they didn't know this, except for Riley, and he only knew a little. Something Bridget and India only knew the full details of and they couldn't even share it.
"It's not fair!" India shouted even though no one could hear her. Some thought it should be less hard on her for losing her mother as a baby than in later life, and maybe it was, she didn't know, but it still hurt. It still ached.
She looked through the diary again and a piece of paper fell out. John's phone number! She tried it and it rang.
"Hello?" came a woman's voice.
"Hello, is there a John there?"
"No, I'm sorry," the woman replied. "I think you have a wrong number. I don't know any Johns."
"Thank you anyway."
Feeling very dejected and miserable, India threw the phone on the ground.
Where has India been all day? Declan wondered as he lay the table for dinner. Sulking in her room, he supposed.
"India! Dinner!"
"I don't want any!"
She came down the hall looking a little pale and went to get some water.
"You don't want any?" Declan replied in confusion. "What's wrong?"
"I feel sick."
He laid a hand on her forehead. "You feel fine."
"I'm still feeling ill!" India said pitifully. "Sorry my temperature isn't up!"
"I didn't say I didn't believe you," Declan said. "Do you really thing you can't have any dinner?"
"Maybe a piece of toast."
"You don't feel well?" asked Miranda in concern. "Oh, darling!" India leaned in for a hug and Miranda gave her a cuddle.
India didn't really talk much during dinner and Steve and Miranda believed it was sickness but Declan wasn't sure. His daughter looked pale, and he was sure that she did feel funny, but she also looked worried and upset.
"Let's watch a film after this," said Miranda. "How about The Sound of Music?"
Steve groaned.
"I knew I should never have bought you that DVD!"
"You like it really. Declan? India?"
Declan honestly thought he couldn't think of any film he'd least rather watch but he wasn't going to tell Miranda that.
"Sure," he said, and tried to smile.
"Great!" Miranda said. "I'll go and set it up."
India went out to go to the bathroom and Declan followed her.
"What's going on?"
"Nothing."
"I know you're lying to me. Look, I'm not angry with you India, I'm just worried!"
He took hold of her arm.
"There's nothing," she insisted, and pulled her arm away. "I need to go to the bathroom!"
Declan knew she wasn't telling the full story.
"You can come to me about anything, you know that. Mum would want you to tell me."
She looked at him.
"You thought you knew everything about Mum, but you didn't."
"What?" he asked, confused. "What are you talking about?"
"I don't think Mum told Nan and Grandpa Steve everything. Or you," she said and then she locked herself into the bathroom, even though Declan called, "India!" after her.
He rubbed his hand over his face. What was she talking about? What did she mean?
He looked over to her bedroom. The door was open and he could see her phone in a place where it would be trod on so he went in to pick it up.
Her room was a state. He'd have a word with her about tidying it later. On the unmade bed was a notebook and he picked it up, puzzled. There was a mermaid on the front cover and he didn't recognise it at all.
He flipped through it and recognised the handwriting, was it India's diary? But then he caught a glimpse of the dates and the signatures at the bottom of the page. This handwriting had lived before India, had been written a long time ago. A gasp caught in his throat.

Love, Bridget

[Bee]

Aww Dec...

ahh im in such an emotional mood now i was actually crying through this...

[suse]

Fantastic Sophie.

Cannot WAIT to see Dec's reaction to this diary...I can't imagine it will be pleasant .

[rebeccag]

oooh that was good sophie esp when Dec saw Bridgets handwriting

[sophie]

Declan stared at the page, desperately drinking in her words. The questions of where India had found it and how long for weren't echoing in his mind just yet - he had something new from Bridget, something he never dreamed of. He would have expected a football or an animal on the front cover, not a mermaid - even now she surprised him.
"If someone can do that it's you," he whispered.
He heard the toilet flush next door and he clutched the diary to his chest and went to his own room. He needed time to himself.
India left the bathroom and went to the sitting room, where, to her surprise, she saw that The Sound of Music wasn't ready to play at all and instead some game show was on.
"I just can't find it anywhere," Miranda said in frustration. "I've looked everywhere - haven't I, Steve? I could have sworn I packed it."
"So could I," Steve agreed. "It's bizarre - you normally never forget anything."
"Oh, I do hope I haven't lost it," Miranda fretted. "I love that film."
"I'll buy you a new copy if you have," Steve promised and Miranda beamed.
"There's not much on, but you're welcome to watch this with us, Indy," Miranda offered. "Go and tell your dad."
India looked down the hall but couldn't see him. He must be in the bathroom.
"We can't find the DVD!" she called.
"Okay!" she heard her dad reply and, satisfied, she went and sat between her grandparents as they tried to beat the contestants at general knowledge.
Declan had barely heard his daughter. Their daughter. It was as if Bridget was back in the room with him. He traced the page lovingly.
My name is Bridget Parker and we've come to visit...
"Didge!" he said happily.
Declan read and read. Every page burst with her, her beautiful, funny spirit - the feisty Bridget he had known was very much there in the pages. He laughed at her arguments with her family. How many times had she complained about them to him, and how many times had she guiltily told him that she loved them and hadn't meant what she said? India was so much like her. More like her than she thought.
What was this? A boy. A boy called John. She'd made some friend but had never told him. Puzzled, he read on.
A few entries later and he wasn't sure how to feel. It was clear to him - maybe not to her - that she had liked him. How did he feel about that? Well, they had only been twelve after all, but it seemed strange and a little hurtful that she had never told anyone, and not him in particular. He thought he'd known her inside out - she knew everything about him.
"Didge, why didn't you tell me?" he whispered, tracing the page.
And why hadn't India told him too? That hurt as well.
Declan tried to tell himself off as jealousy rose regardless as he read further. For God's sake, they had been twelve years old - well, he'd been thirteen - and it was a little friendship on the verge of something more that had never gone further.
"You're pathetic, Declan Napier," he told himself, as he imagined Bridget would, but his heart wasn't paying much attention.
All too soon he was getting near the end. Something was going to happen, he knew that - something at midnight. He read anxiously on. By the time he had finished he sat astounded on the bed. It wasn't Josh who had given her her first kiss at all. Well, he had given her a first deep kiss, but it had been something with this other boy. This poor boy who had got caught up in this mistake. And Declan found himself asking the question he'd been telling himself not to ask: if he hadn't had to run away and she had kept coming to the tree would they have fallen in love? Would she have thought of him at all? Or would they be living here, together, living their dreams made in childhood?
"Stop it," he told himself. "You're being stupid."
Still, sadly he traced the cover and thought those thoughts .
"I don't know where your father got to in the end," remarked Miranda, "but I think I'm going to turn off the TV and maybe you should start getting ready for bed."
"It's not that late, Nan," complained India half-heartedly.
"Maybe another half-hour." Miranda pulled her off the cushions.
India went to her room to maybe start getting ready and look through her mother's diary once more. Her phone was on the bed and she picked it up, puzzled, positive she had thrown it on the floor. She had, she knew she had.
She looked at the bed. The diary was gone.
In horror she looked all in the covers, under the bed, in the wardrobe, even under the floorboards even though she knew that it wouldn't be there. It felt as though icy fingers were feeling down her neck.
She ran down the hall and threw her dad's door open. Her heart sank as she saw him there holding it and staring into space.
"Dad!" she said. "You've found it!"
"India," he said but that was all.
"Give it back!"
"Leave us alone!" he shouted and India was stunned.
"Please give it back."
"It's not yours."
"I found it."
"That still doesn't make it yours. It's Mum's. It's Bridget's."
"So it's not yours either," she said angrily. "And how could you go in my room again?"
"Why do you think?"he challenged her angrily. "Maybe because you've been acting strangely the whole time we've been here, almost. Because I'm your dad and I worry about you."
"You worry too much!"
"No I don't! And why didn't you tell me?"
Guilt crept up.
"I was going to. I was. It just felt special and private."
"We should have shared it," he said stubbornly, knowing he should be listening, understanding, but all he could think of was how reading the diary was like having a conversation with Bridget that his daughter had interrupted.
"It was private," she said again, more angrily this time. "I never knew Mum. You did. You knew her so well."
"I thought I did!"
"Don't tell me you're upset about John!" she exclaimed.
"Oh...you don't understand," Declan said, using the very line his own daughter shouted or cried so much.
"Come on Dad! And I suppose you told Mum everything you did when you were young!"
"Don't use sarcasm as and yes I did!"
"Like you're never sarcastic!" she snapped. "Like you're never secretive, irritable or a bit sarcastic!"
Declan would rather have taken a week of India's worst teething over this.
"This isn't about me, it's about you-"
"No, Dad, it IS about you!" India shouted. "It's about you thinking I should be perfect and never do anything wrong! Well, I can't! For one thing, you can push me to the limit!"
"Oh you can be such a brat sometimes!"
India looked stricken. She had never looked so hurt in her life and Declan felt beyond terrible. There wasn't a word to describe how he felt.
"Oh Indy, I didn't mean it, I'm so sorry-"
She burst into tears.
"You've spoilt everything!" she cried. "It was so special, so magic finding Mum's diary and I knew it wouldn't be the same if you found it! It's not! You ruined it!"
She ran down the hall and slammed herself into her room.
"India!"
Declan followed her to her room and Steve and Miranda came out of theirs looking shocked.
"India!" He knocked on the door.
"Go away!" came a tearful reply from inside.
"What on earth is going on?" asked Miranda, looked shocked.
Declan felt dazed.
"India found Didge's old diary. She's been reading it for weeks. I've just found it - she found me reading it and somehow, I don't know how, we ended up having this horrible row."
Miranda had gone white and she put her hand to her mouth.
"Bridget kept a diary?" she whispered. "Oh, can I read it?"
Declan nodded, exhausted.
"You don't have to ask me that, Miranda. She's your daughter."
"I think you and India should leave it for tonight," Steve put in. "You both said things you didn't mean and I think you should both have a good night's sleep and talk about it tomorrow."
"Maybe you're right. I don't know. I don't know anything. Maybe if she was a boy I'd have more an idea of what to say to her."
India had been sitting on the bed, crying angrily, and just then she thought she'd go out and talk about it. She reached the door and caught the end of the sentence: Maybe if she was a boy I'd have more of an idea of what to say to her.
That did it, thought India. She'd always known she was a disappointment: too emotional, not a boy, not clever enough, not having enough guts. All her insecurities came out and taunted her.
She had to get out. Not far and she'd come back, but she had get out. She couldn't stay another minute.
India took a pillow and shoved it under the doona and then she prised open her window and went to get her bike. She knew where she was going.
Ignoring the rain that was now pouring down and drenching her and everything else around her, India pedalled off into the night.

[Bee]

awww Indy!! and Dec...

Ahh this is so great Sophie! cant wait for more!

[suse]

Wow Sophie...that was amazing. I loooved Dec's insecurity about John and Indy's anger that her special secret connection with her mother had been spoiled.

I adore this story. I hope you have lots more planned for it.

[sophie]

Thanks guys! still more to come!