Read Online Five Things They Never Told Me by Rebecca Westcott - Free Book Online

second time it happened, the memory of this day made it all the harder.
    It was too late, though. By the time I raced into the backyard, Mother was standing in the doorway, wiping her floury hands on her apron, looking furious. Mim was loitering behind her with a rotten kind of smirk on her face.
    Mother wouldn’t listen when I told her that nothing had happened. She said that nice girls like me did not go within spitting distance of the woods with the likes of Tommy McGregor. She said that he was ‘No Good’, and that I was a terrible role model for Mim. I was banned from going anywhere except home and school for the next two weeks and told that it was about time I started to grow up.
    I didn’t really care about that and I didn’t pay much attention to what she said to me, either. I didn’t care about getting older and I thought that growing up sounded like a very dull sort of thing to be bothered with.
    Oh, I’m not daft. I’ve got eyes. When I look in the mirror I can see the old lady I’ve become. Age cannot be halted and only a fool would try to stop time from doing its duty. After all, there are
some
perks.
    Growing up, however, is a different matter altogether. Nobody ever tells you that this is
purely optional. How you behave is completely at your own discretion and I, for one, intend to do as I please. My advanced years do provide me with certain benefits, you see. Nobody suspects the elderly of being capable of anything other than knitting bootees for babies and sucking on toffees. I have found a certain freedom in this.
    But oh, my poor, No-Good Tommy. If only that picture of him, standing in the dappled sunlight under the trees that day was the last memory I had of him. If this were so then I think I would be a happy woman. The girl asked me where he is now. I wish I had the answer to that question, although I suspect I shall discover it before too long.
    I would like to see her again, despite her incessant need to talk. Her questions have reminded me of things that I thought were buried long ago. I think she might be fun. She might help to liven things up a bit.

Grannies *
    The last two days have been totally boring. I don’t know how Dad doesn’t go mad, hanging around the garden all day. Plants are seriously dull.
    I’ve done my penance and met up with Martha at the agreed time each day. I’ve barely spoken to Dad about her, except after that first afternoon when he asked me if we’d had a nice chat. I
laughed quite a lot at that until he got cross with me.
    We’ve sat in complete silence on both days – I listen to my iPod and do my sketching and don’t bother talking to her. She’s probably glad that she can just be moody and miserable without any interruptions because it’s not like she’s tried to get my attention or anything. On the positive side, I’ve done some great sketches. On the negative side, my voice is going to forget how to work if I don’t find someone to talk to soon.
    I’ve thought a few times about Martha and Tommy. She met him when she was my age and then ended up marrying him. It’s made me think about the boys I know. I reckon I must be the least popular girl in Year 8. Nobody has shown the slightest interest in even wanting to go out with me, so based on that evidence there’s a strong possibility that I may never actually get married. Not that anyone at school knows that I’ve never had a boyfriend. Not even Lauren and Nat. Everyone has gone a bit mental with the whole boy-girl thing. Four different boys asked Lauren out just on one day (and she said yes to each of them). It can be kind of hard to concentrate in lessons with the amount of asking out that’s
always going on. I get jabbed in the back with a ruler at least three times in every maths lesson and every time I turn round there’ll be a note being thrust in my face. Always with someone else’s name on the front.
    When it all first started I used to joke that it was all good work experience for if I