Daddy had kissed Mr Venn. Or maybe it happened the other way. Where had they gone? What would Mummy do? She didn’t know what to think but her tummy didn’t feel good. She crawled into bed and her head hit her diary.

Pulling it out, she decided to report what had happened. Opening the pages, her fingers left marks. They showed her guilt. She shouldn’t have gone downstairs for more silverbelle. She’d been greedy. Gluttony was one of the seven deadly sins. Her stomach rolled like she was going to be sick. If she hadn’t been greedy then she wouldn’t have seen anything. Her head began to hurt. She was confused.

Dear Diary,

I’m sorry my fingers are leaving chocolate prints on the pages as I write. I was in the larder when I heard Daddy’s voice in the kitchen. He was talking to someone. Talking about being quiet. I leaned against the shelves because I knew I shouldn’t be up. The party was noisy and I couldn’t sleep and my tummy growled. Daddy and Mr Venn stood by the back door. Daddy looked around and even in the larder. I held my breath waiting to be scolded or maybe just told to go to bed.

But he hadn’t seen me. He opened the door then he took the man’s hand. The man leaned forward and kissed Daddy. Daddy didn’t pull away but looked around again. It didn’t make sense. Daddy only kisses Mummy and me. He might kiss his godmother’s cheek but that is all.

Diary, I pushed back further, sticking my hand in the silverbelle, trying to become invisible. I don’t know what was happening but I’m afraid. I feel sick in the tummy. Why was Daddy holding the American’s hand and letting him kiss him? What will Mummy do when she finds them? Diary, I’m scared.

63. Joan

63

Joan

4 August 1962 10.40 p.m.

I slip into Diana’s room and as I suspect she is reading under her blanket. I pray she hasn’t witnessed anything. She loves Allan. She is too young to understand. How can I explain?

‘Hello darling, are you all right?’

I push her hair off her face and she looks so sad. I know then what she may have seen.

‘Tell me what’s wrong.’

She crunches up her nose. ‘Nothing, Mummy.’

I sit down on the side of her bed and she looks at the book in her hands, To Kill a Mockingbird.

‘How was the second or was it the third serving of the silverbelle?’

She smiles but her eyes don’t. ‘It was yummy.’ She rubs her stomach.

‘Was it?’ I watch her swallow and her thinking is almost visible.

‘Well . . . my tummy hurts right now.’

‘I see.’

‘Mummy?’ She looks at me and her confusion is apparent.

‘Yes.’