by Judi Curtin
‘Save me,’ she whispered. ‘I know Dad and Martha are going to argue for the whole journey. I’ll be in need of a hospital bed by the time we get there.’
‘That’s not important now,’ I said. ‘Just tell me quickly. Can Zoe sing?’
‘She sings Simon to sleep every night,’ she said.
That was good enough for me. I turned to run back home. ‘But Eva,’ Kate called after me. I ignored her. ‘You just go and have a lovely time with your dad,’ I said. ‘And by the time you get back, all your problems will be sorted.’
‘But, Eva!’ said Kate again.
Once again I ignored her as I ran inside to tell Jacob the good news.
Chapter Six
That afternoon, I walked to the pub with Zoe for her job audition. She was wheeling Simon in his buggy.
‘I’m not sure this is an entirely good idea,’ said Zoe.
I tried to sound all adult and sensible.
‘Kate told me that you’d like to find a job,’ I said.
‘That’s true,’ said Zoe. ‘I would like to find a job. Much as I love my little boy, being at home with him all day isn’t enough for me.’
‘So a part time job is exactly what you want. You’ll meet loads of new people if you work in a bar. And you love singing,’ I said. ‘So this is perfect for you.’
She still wasn’t convinced. ‘I do like singing,’ she said. ‘And I know Simon loves my voice, but I’m not sure if I’m quite good enough for the pub. I’ve never really sung in public before.’
‘It’ll be fine,’ I said. ‘Jacob said that Declan, the guitar player, is brilliant. He’ll help you out if you’re nervous. You’ll be great, just wait and see.’
So – because Zoe is a really happy, optimistic person – she smiled at me, and walked a bit faster, with a kind of excited spring in her step.
And I walked a bit behind her, with my fingers crossed, hoping things were going to turn out as I had planned.
Twenty minutes later, I was sitting in a corner of the bar, with Simon on my knee. Zoe was standing on a small platform near the window, holding a microphone. Next to her sat Declan, a smiley-faced man who was tuning a guitar. Jacob was standing behind the bar counter, polishing glasses. The only customers were two old ladies who were drinking coffee and chatting.
‘All in your own time,’ said Declan to Zoe. ‘Just tell me when you’re ready.’
Zoe looked really, really nervous. I gave her a big thumbs-up sign, and Simon clapped his hands enthusiastically, almost like he knew what was going on.
Zoe smiled. ‘OK,’ she said in a shaky voice. ‘It’s now or never.’
Declan began to strum his guitar, and a few seconds later, Zoe started to sing. Well, actually, she opened her mouth and noises came out, but it wasn’t like any singing I’d ever heard in my life before. Her voice was screechy, like fingernails on a blackboard. Jacob stopped polishing glasses, and stood there with his mouth wide open. One of the old ladies took out her hearing aid and adjusted it. The other old lady was looking frantically at the door, like she was planning to escape. Simon closed his eyes and laid his head on my shoulder. I thought that was a strange response, but I was too busy figuring out what was going on to worry about it.
Declan continued to play, but he had a weird look on his face, like he was going to faint or die or something. As the song continued, Zoe kept randomly speeding up and slowing down, and I could see that Declan was struggling in a big way.
I sat there, not knowing if I should laugh or cry.
Finally, after what felt like about ten years, the song came to an end. Zoe put down the microphone and smiled at everyone.
‘That went better than I’d expected,’ she said, though I’m not sure anyone except me was still listening.
Jacob came over and shook her hand. ‘Well done, Zoe,’ he said.
‘So is the job mine?’ she asked.
The poor man looked totally embarrassed. ‘Your voice is lovely and everything, but I’m not sure your style of singing is exactly what I’m looking for. I’m sorry.’
‘Oh,’ said Zoe, with a hurt look. Then she took Simon from my arms and went outside to strap him into his buggy.
As I followed her, I heard Declan talking to Jacob. ‘I don’t want to be mean or anything,’ he said. ‘But if you hire her, I’m leaving. I’ve never …’
I closed the door, so I wouldn’t have to listen any more, and Zoe and I set off for home.
‘I was rubbish, wasn’t I?’ she said.
‘I’m not sure “rubbish” is the word I’d use.’
This was the truth. ‘Rubbish’ didn’t begin to describe the awful sounds she’d made. I wished I’d been brave enough to protect my ears. I was beginning to worry that I’d damaged my hearing forever.
‘Jacob didn’t like my singing,’ she said. ‘I could see it in his eyes. But hey, it’s no big deal. You can’t be good at everything, right?’
‘Right,’ I said.
Zoe put one arm around me. ‘It was nice of you to try to get me a job, Eva,’ she said. ‘And since you’re such a kind girl, can you do me one more favour?’
‘Sure,’ I said. ‘What do you want?’
‘Could you promise never to tell Kate or Patrick about this afternoon? If they hear what happened, I will never, ever be allowed to forget it.’
I’d encouraged the poor woman to make an idiot of herself in public, so the least I could do was make that small promise.
‘Forget what?’ I said, and the two of us laughed the rest of the way home.
I met Kate for a few minutes when she got back the next day.
‘Dad and I had an amazing time,’ she said. ‘It was just like the camping trips we used to have years ago, before he went to live in London.’
‘I’m glad,’ I said. ‘I know Zoe is great, but it’s probably good for you and your dad to have time together too.’
‘Oh yeah – speaking of Zoe. You asked me yesterday if she could sing, but you ran off before I could finish answering you.’
‘Did I?’ I asked, trying not to look guilty. ‘What were you going to say?’
‘I was going to say that she’s a really bad singer.’
‘But you said that she sings Simon to sleep every night.’
Kate laughed. ‘She does – and within seconds of her opening her mouth, Simon closes his eyes. Dad and I joke about it when Zoe’s not listening. We think Simon just pretends to be asleep, so Zoe will be quiet.’
I remembered what Simon had done the day before. The poor little kid had been pretending to be asleep!
‘Zoe’s so bad it’s almost funny,’ continued Kate. ‘But why were you asking about her and singing?’
‘Oh, you know,’ I said as vaguely as I could. ‘I was just wondering.’
That night, I saw Daisy’s diary on the table next to my bed.
‘I’m sorry, Daisy,’ I whispered. ‘I almost forgot about you, I was so busy trying to fix up a job for Zoe.’
I don’t usually talk to diaries, but I couldn’t help it. In a weird way, I felt like Daisy was my friend, like she was talking to me, like she wanted me to know her story.
As I picked up the diary, something fell out and slid across the floor. I had to jump out of bed and almost crawl under the wardrobe to find it. It was an ancient old black and white photograph of a man and a woman, and a girl with a big floppy ribbon in her curly hair. The girl was pretty, with huge dark, laughing eyes. All three were holding hands. They looked happy.
I turned the photograph over. There was writing on the back –
Jean-Marc, Florrie and Daisy Lavelle. April 1947
‘Daisy,’ I sighed. ‘Whatever happened to you? Where did you go to? And why?’
I looked at the photograph for a long time, and then I picked up the diary and settled down to read.
‘Eva! It’s the middle of the night. Why is your light still on?’
It was dad, and he was cross – until he looked at me properly. Then he ran o
ver to my bed.
‘What is it, my darling?’ he asked. ‘Why are you crying?’
He handed me a tissue, but it wasn’t enough for the streams of tears that were rolling down my face. Dad hugged me for a long time, and didn’t seem to mind that his favourite t-shirt was getting all gross and soggy.
‘Tell me, Eva,’ he said, when I’d recovered a bit. ‘Tell me what’s happened.’
So I wiped my eyes on my sheet, took a deep breath and told him what I’d discovered.
Telling Daisy’s story felt kind of strange, since it had all happened so many years ago, but once I started, I couldn’t stop. When I was finished, Dad hugged me again.
‘That’s a really sad story, Eva,’ he said. ‘But for all you know, things might have been fine in the end. Try not to worry about the poor girl.’
‘OK, Dad. I’ll try that,’ I said as he pulled the covers over me and I snuggled down to sleep.
Then I spent the rest of the night lying awake and worrying about Daisy.
Chapter Seven
When I called over to Kate’s place the next morning, it was so early that she was still in bed. While her dad went up to get her, I chatted to Zoe, and played with Simon, who luckily didn’t seem to have any lasting bad effects from Zoe’s disastrous singing exploits.
When Kate came downstairs, she was dressed, but her hair was all messy and she was rubbing her eyes.
‘This had better be important, Eva,’ she said. ‘I need all the beauty sleep I can get.’
‘It is important,’ I said. ‘Really important. Now, do you want to go to Jeremy, and I’ll tell you all about it?’
We were headed for the door, when Kate’s dad called her back. ‘You’re not going anywhere without breakfast, young lady,’ he said. ‘Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.’
Kate rolled her eyes, grabbed a banana from the fruit bowl, and then we ran from the room before her dad had time to protest.
‘I’m guessing this has something to do with Daisy?’ said Kate, as we got to our favourite place on the grass near the trunk of the huge tree.
‘Yes,’ I said, as I pulled the diary from my jacket pocket. ‘It’s about Daisy. Now make yourself comfortable while I tell you the saddest story in the whole wide world.’
Kate rested her back against the tree, and stretched her legs out in front of her.
‘I’m ready,’ she said. ‘So start talking.’
‘As you know, in the beginning, Daisy’s life was kind of boring,’ I began. ‘A day of collecting blackberries was like an amazing event, and finding a new kind of seaweed was the most exciting thing ever. Mostly she just went to school, and hung out with her friend Rose, and helped her mum and dad around the house.’
‘That sounds a bit like my life,’ said Kate.
I grinned. ‘Maybe. Except without TV and a computer and a phone and useful stuff like that. Anyway, all of a sudden, things changed. Daisy’s life got a whole lot more exciting – and not in a good way.’
‘What happened?’ Kate asked, edging closer to me.
‘I’ll let Daisy explain in her own words,’ I said, as I carefully flicked through the pages until I found the one I wanted.
Kate lay back on the grass and I began to read.
Dear Diary,
Today something very strange happened. Garda Dillon came to the house and Daddy asked him in for a cup of tea and a slice of fruitcake that Mammy had just taken out of the oven. Garda Dillon went all red in the face and said it wasn’t a social call. He asked could Daddy go to the garda station with him to talk about a crime. Mammy cried all the time that Daddy was gone, and I didn’t know what to do to make her stop. When Daddy came back he hugged us both and said it was all a misunderstanding and we should forget about it. We had tea then; the fruitcake was lovely.
‘That doesn’t sound too serious,’ said Kate when I stopped reading.
‘That’s what I thought – and that’s probably what Daisy thought too, but unfortunately we were all wrong.’
‘So did you find out what the crime was?’
‘Yes. Somebody broke into a church in Newtown and stole a chalice.’
‘And was that such a big deal? It’s not like he held up a bank or something!’
‘The chalice was really old and really valuable, but that wasn’t the only reason it was a big deal. People were very religious back then, and stealing a chalice was like a super-big crime. The teachers in Daisy’s school got the kids to say prayers every morning, so that the chalice would be found and the thief sent to jail.’
‘But surely Daisy’s dad wasn’t involved?’
‘That’s what I thought too, and at first things went on pretty much as before. Then, a few weeks later, Daisy’s dad was charged with the crime, and he had to go to court. This is what she wrote:
Dear Diary,
Daddy’s court case is tomorrow. Mammy spent a long time ironing his clothes, so he would look decent for the judge. She was crying so much, though, tears kept falling on his good white shirt and ruining it. In the end, I had to do it for her. Daddy says Mammy is upsetting herself over nothing. He said, ‘I haven’t done anything wrong, so I don’t have to be afraid. I will just tell the truth, and that will be the end of that. Justice is always done in the end.’ Daddy would never tell a lie, so I know it will all work out well.
Now Kate sat up. ‘You said it was a sad story, so I’m guessing things didn’t turn out the way Daisy hoped.’
I shook my head. ‘The trial only lasted for one day.’
‘And?’
‘And Daisy’s dad was found guilty and sentenced to five years in jail.’
‘Ouch!’ said Kate. ‘That’s awful. So what happened to Daisy?’
‘Some of the next entries are kind of rushed and untidy – like she was too upset to concentrate properly. Whole days go by and she doesn’t write anything at all. The kids in her class gave her a hard time because her dad was in prison.’
‘And didn’t the teachers step in?’
‘It doesn’t sound like it. Remember they were the ones who were organising prayer meetings for the safe return of the chalice. I’m guessing they gave Daisy a hard time too. Soon she stopped going to school altogether.’
‘But what about her scholarship?’
‘The scholarship was the least of her worries,’ I said. ‘Listen to what she wrote a month after her dad went to jail:
Dear Diary,
The good china is getting dusty, because it is never used - Mammy’s friends don’t come to see her any more. When Mammy and I went to Mass last week, everyone pointed at us and whispered.
Rose waved at me from the other side of the church. Shestarted to come over to us, but her mammy pulled her back. Mammy cries all the time now. I try to cheer her up but nothing works. She used to be so proud of her glossy hair and her trim figure, but now she doesn’t care about anything. She sits at the kitchen table and drinks tea and eats so much bread that she is getting fat. Some days she doesn’t get up out of bed at all. I don’t know what is going to happen to her. I don’t know what is going to happen to me.
‘OMG,’ said Kate. ‘The poor girl. She didn’t do anything to deserve this. None of it is her fault, and yet her whole world is collapsing around her. People must have been really mean back then.’
‘I know,’ I said, wondering if people would act differently nowadays. ‘It’s totally unfair.’
‘So how did Daisy survive like that until her dad got back?’
I sighed. ‘I’m not finished yet. I’m afraid things got even worse. Daisy’s mum couldn’t cope at all. In the end, she was so bad that she had to go to some kind of a psychiatric hospital.’
‘And did they make her better?’
I shook my head. ‘No. I don’t think psychiatric hospitals made people better back in the olden days. It sounds like they locked poor Florrie up and threw away the key.’
‘And Daisy?’
‘In a way, she was lucky. She had a great aunt
who lived in America, and arrangements were made to send Daisy to live with her.’
‘And she left her diary behind?’
‘Yes, but not by accident. This is her last entry:
Dear Diary,
Yesterday I went to see Mammy in the hospital and Daddy in the prison. We all cried for a long time. Mammy and Daddy both told me to be brave, but that is not easy. I am leaving for the boat first thing in the morning. I am afraid of travelling alone. I have never beenanywhere without Mammy and Daddy before. Rose gave me her bracelet to bring me luck. I will miss her very much. I am not going to bring this diary to America. I am going to hide it in my secret place at the back of the old hen-house. When Daddy’s name is cleared, things will be different. I will come back home to Seacove and Mammy will come out of hospital. We will have visitors and people will be nice to us again. I will go back to school and study for my scholarship. I will fill all the rest of these pages with happy stories.
Goodbye for a while, my dear diary.
I stopped reading and wiped the tears from my eyes. It might have been kind of embarrassing, except that Kate was crying too. We hugged for a bit, and then we sat back on the grass. It was weird, crying about something that had happened so long ago, to someone we had never met. It was almost like crying at a movie.
‘The poor girl never came back?’ said Kate in the end.
‘That’s what it looks like. This diary was really important to her, but she never wrote in it again.’
‘So I’m guessing it’s been lying in the shed, untouched, since 1947,’ she said. ‘It’s like it was waiting for her.’
‘No,’ I said, feeling suddenly excited. ‘Maybe the diary wasn’t waiting for Daisy. Maybe it was waiting for us!’
Much later we were still discussing it.
‘It’s obvious,’ I said for the tenth time. ‘Daisy said she wouldn’t come back until her dad’s name was cleared. She never touched her diary again, so that must never have happened.’
