Secret Journal Page 7

  ‘Ella, are you playing a trick on us?’ Zoe moaned, as she stood by the bathroom door.

  ‘Just keep watch!’ I hissed.

  Grace and Violet stood next to me by the panel as I tried to slide it open. It was still stiff from the last time I’d come through, when I’d almost been stuck inside.

  ‘It’s just a little stiff,’ I puffed, as I leaned on the panel with all my weight. I knew the door had to push inwards first before it would slide along its runner.

  ‘Are you sure this is the right spot?’ Violet asked. I could see the doubt in her eyes.

  ‘It is!’ I protested, as I tried to ram the panel with my shoulder. ‘It was working last time I came.’

  ‘Mayday! Mayday!’ Zoe called from the entryway to the bathroom. Someone was coming!

  A tall figure pushed open the door and strode into the bathroom. It was Ms Montgomery.

  ‘What is all that banging?’ she demanded.

  Zoe, Grace, Violet and I looked at each other, mouths agape, unsure what to say.

  ‘The door was jammed—’ I began at exactly the same time as Grace said, ‘The window was jammed—’

  I winced.

  Ms Montgomery frowned. ‘Well, which was it? The door or the window?’ She narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

  ‘I meant the door, the door of the cubicle,’ Grace bumbled.

  Ms Montgomery reached for the cubicle door that was closest to us and swung it easily on its hinges. ‘It seems fine to me,’ she said, raising one eyebrow.

  ‘Oh, it is now,’ Zoe said. ‘But before, it was stuck and Violet was in there.’

  Violet nodded furiously.

  Ms Montgomery looked at each one of us through narrowed eyes.

  ‘Well, you are clearly fine now, so be on your way,’ she said. ‘And in future, call an adult for help if you are stuck—don’t go crashing and bashing school property.’

  ‘Yes, Ms Montgomery,’ we chorused, as we filed out of the bathroom.

  She watched as we walked back down the hall.

  ‘So much for that idea,’ Zoe said, irritated.

  ‘I think we are going to have to wait awhile before we try that again,’ Violet said. ‘She’s onto us.’

  We all nodded, disappointed. All I wanted to do was share my secret with my friends. But for now, it would just have to wait.

  Chapter 15

  12 March 1940

  My dearest diary,

  Well, the worst has come to pass. The fateful day has arrived. Papa is coming to pick me up. There has been nothing organised to bid me farewell. All I know is that I am leaving Eden, not with fanfare but with a whimper.

  I think this is a reflection of our world at this time—relationships quietly stuttering to a standstill, like the snuff of a candle. As the bombs shine brightly, the flame of friendship grows dim. Such troubled times.

  I write this entry from one of my favourite places in the school—up high, where I can look down, like a bird in the sky, and see everything. I come up here a lot to think and reflect.

  Despite my somewhat sad time within these grounds, there is also something I love about this place. I am sad to leave, I will be honest. Perhaps, in another life, another time, things would have been different here. Oh! I hear the quiet putt, putt, putt of Papa’s vehicle. I can see it coming over the hill and winding up the dirt road that leads to the school. This is it. My final moments at Eden College.

  But I vow to return.

  So, I am going to hide you in this special place, my dear diary, knowing that I will come back for you one day. I have found in the past a secret little place for you, behind a loose brick up here in the bell tower.

  I can hear the Headmistress calling my name. I need to hurry.

  Sleep peacefully, my dear diary, until I return.

  One day.

  One day.

  Elena

  What?

  That can’t be it?! I flicked ahead in the journal to see only blank pages.

  How can this be the end of Elena’s diary?

  I ran my hands through my hair in frustration. I had no answers! Why did Elena leave? Where did she go? Why is there no record of her at the school?

  Clearly her last entry was all about hiding her journal in the bell tower. The fact that it was still there for me to find told me Elena probably did not make it back to Eden College. But why not? It all felt so … so unresolved (that means it wasn’t tied up neatly at the end like a good Millie Mysteries book).

  I sighed in anger.

  Elena’s story had become so dear to me. How could I possibly end it without ever knowing what happened?

  And I wanted to write about this for Eden Press. But now I had no story. There was nothing here to write about—nothing about Eden College in the 1940s. No ending for a lost girl named Elena. She had just vanished, like thistledown on a summer’s breeze.

  And to make matters worse, we hadn’t been able to get back into the secret tunnel. Being a Sunday, there were girls all over the dorm. We couldn’t get a minute alone in the bathroom without someone barging in.

  And when we finally did get a few seconds, we found that the panel was still jammed in place. Grace had suggested accessing the tunnel from the surrounding bushland, but there was no way we would be able to go outside the school gates without one of the teachers seeing us. I felt completely locked out—just like I did reading the end of Elena’s journal. Everything felt like one big dead end.

  ‘Why so down?’ Grace asked, walking into our dorm room.

  I looked up, still seated on my bed. ‘Elena’s journal just ends! She hides it in the bell tower, but there are no answers. I don’t know why she left, where she went or if she ever came back.’

  ‘Maybe there are no answers. Maybe she left the school and that’s all there is to tell,’ Grace shrugged.

  ‘But I feel like there’s more,’ I said, shaking my head. ‘I mean, there has to be more to this story than that.’ I winced, frustrated. ‘Nobody just disappears.’

  ‘I know what will cheer you up. How about a trip into town?’ Grace said. ‘Maybe a milkshake?’

  ‘We need a Year 9 to go with us,’ I reminded her.

  ‘Well, let’s go find one then!’ she said, extending her hand out to help me up off the bed.

  I groaned. But Grace was right. I needed something to take my mind off Elena’s unfinished diary.

  We walked along the corridor, looking for a Year 9 student. One was coming up the stairs.

  ‘Andrea, want to accompany us in to town?’ Grace asked.

  ‘Not now, Grace,’ she said. ‘I’m going to play tennis.’

  We kept walking along the hallway, checking the rooms for Year 9 students along the way. We peered into Saskia’s room and there on her bed was her sister, Ivy. The two were playing cards together.

  ‘Ivy!’ Grace chirped. ‘I don’t suppose you feel like accompanying some adorable Year 7 girls into town? Maybe get a milkshake?’

  ‘Ooh, sounds fun!’ Saskia beamed.

  My heart sank. Of course we had to invite Saskia. It would be rude to steal her sister away and not invite her. But I just wasn’t in the mood for her drama.

  ‘Sure,’ Ivy said. ‘Let’s go, Saskia!’

  ‘Do you mind if we see if Violet and Zoe want to come, too?’ I asked.

  ‘The more the merrier!’ Ivy smiled.

  We all went down to the common room and found Violet and Zoe watching TV. They were more than happy to escape to town and ran back up to the dorm room to get their wallets.

  Ivy checked with Monty that it was OK to go and we all signed ourselves out in the attendance log.

  When Grace said we were going into ‘town’, what she really meant was a tiny collection of local shops, about a five minute walk from school. There was a small supermarket, a post office, a hairdresser and a fish and chips shop. The fish and chips shop doubled as a café and milk bar, and we’d often get ice creams or milkshakes there on hot weekends.

  ‘Hi, Arnol
d!’ Ivy said to the shop owner as we walked inside.

  ‘What will it be today, girls?’ Arnold replied.

  Arnold was a large, rotund man who had owned the shop for years. His father had worked there, too, and his father before that, so it had been a family-run business for many generations.

  We all ordered milkshakes and sat out the front of the shop on the shiny, metal outdoor furniture.

  ‘So, are we all ready for the Alumni Luncheon tomorrow?’ Saskia asked, as we sipped our milkshakes.

  I rolled my eyes. I’d heard enough about the luncheon.

  ‘I can’t wait for my mum and grandma to come,’ she gushed.

  ‘Ugh, that means my great-aunt will be here in the morning,’ Grace said, scrunching up her nose.

  ‘It also means I need to be ready to host the event,’ Zoe said in a wavering voice. ‘I’m so nervous.’

  ‘You’ll be great, Zoe,’ Violet said. ‘I’m pretty nervous about the drama soliloquy I’m doing, too.’

  ‘Sounds like we all have pretty important things to do,’ Saskia said. ‘Oh, sorry, not meaning that you are not important, Ella,’ she said in fake sympathy. ‘Waitressing is important, too, I guess.’

  I rolled my eyes.

  ‘And you never know,’ Ivy interrupted. ‘You may get some good material for your Eden Press story,’ she smiled. Ivy was so kind. Sometimes I couldn’t believe she was Saskia’s sister, even though they had the same cascading blonde ponytails and shining blue eyes.

  ‘I don’t have much of a story yet,’ I said in all honesty. ‘I’m running out of time.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Ivy said. ‘Sometimes the right story just takes a bit of time to brew.’

  I hoped Ivy was right, because right now I had nothing. I wasn’t doing anything at the Alumni Luncheon and the big mystery of Elena’s journal had hit a dead end.

  I needed something and I needed it fast.

  Chapter 16

  There was a buzz of excitement in the air on Monday morning. We had all been told to make sure every room in the school was clean and tidy. We’d even made sure there was no rubbish lying around the school grounds, and the groundskeepers had worked extra hard to manicure the hedges and the lawns. It was a beautiful, bright sunny day, which made things all the more pleasant for the day ahead.

  The Alumni Luncheon guests had started to arrive around mid-morning and were enjoying tours of the school, guided by the Year 11 and 12 students. Since all the guests had either attended or taught at Eden, it gave them great joy to see how the school had transformed and evolved over the years.

  We had been sent back to the dorm after our morning lessons to neaten ourselves up before the luncheon. Grace was spending an unusual amount of time in front of the mirror, making sure her French braids were perfect. She tied them off with shiny, satin white ribbons and inspected herself in front of the mirror. She smoothed her hands over her uniform, straightening the collar and pulling up her knee-high socks.

  ‘Do you think my socks look off-white? They are meant to be white. Not just white. Crisp white. White– white. Are they white?’ she said at great speed.

  Violet and I giggled. Grace always spoke quickly when she was nervous.

  ‘Yes, they are white,’ Violet laughed. ‘Is this all because your great-aunt is going to be here?’

  Grace wrinkled her nose. ‘You have no idea what she’s like!’

  Zoe paced around the dorm room, reading from her notes.

  ‘It is my honour and pleasure to welcome you here today, to the Aluminium Luncheon. No, not aluminium,’ she stumbled, ‘I mean Alumni Luncheon. Ugh!’

  ‘Zoe, calm down,’ I said, giving her a pat on the arm. ‘You’ll be fine. Just breathe.’

  Zoe nodded and frowned, and then began pacing again.

  ‘Well, at least you are all doing something important,’ I said, as I tied my apron around my waist. ‘I’ll be stuck in the kitchen putting jam on scones.’

  ‘I’d rather be there than with my Great-Aunt Clarice,’ Grace said.

  ‘She can’t be that bad,’ Violet laughed.

  ‘Oh, you just wait,’ Grace said with wide eyes.

  We put the finishing touches to our hair and uniforms, then walked downstairs and out the front door. The Alumni Luncheon was taking place in the function hall, up in the main part of the school. It was a big room that the College used for events, with a kitchen attached for catering.

  As we neared the function hall, we saw that some of the alumni guests were already wandering around the central courtyard, admiring the water fountain.

  ‘Look how it’s changed!’ an older lady gushed to the women standing around her. ‘Yet I see the bell tower is still there, just the same as in my day!’

  We leaned casually on the fountain wall, but I noticed Grace’s eyes darting wildly around the courtyard. She bounced nervously—even more than usual.

  ‘Grace, you look stressed,’ I said.

  ‘I’m just keeping an eye out for my great-aunt. She sneaks up on you, like a ninja,’ Grace whispered.

  ‘I’m sure she’s not that bad—’

  ‘Grace Alessandra!’ a stern voice bellowed from behind us.

  We all jumped to attention.

  ‘Oh, how you slouch, my girl!’ the voice said.

  We turned to see an older lady in a long navy skirt. She wore a white blouse, buttoned right up to her chin, and the long sleeves were also buttoned at the cuff, despite the hot day. There were ruffles down the front of her blouse and a necklace of pearls around her neck. She leaned on a cane, which was black with a rubber stopper on the end. Her skin was crinkled, like a used tissue, but her gaze was severe. Her green eyes were beady and accusing. It could only be one person …

  ‘Great-Aunt Clarice!’ Grace exclaimed in clearly insincere excitement. ‘How lovely to see you again!’

  ‘Stand up straight!’ she barked.

  Grace stood tall, her hands clasped behind her back.

  ‘Well, aren’t you going to introduce me to your friends?’ Great-Aunt Clarice asked.

  ‘Of course,’ Grace stammered. ‘This is Ella.’

  ‘How do you do?’ I said.

  ‘And Zoe.’

  ‘Pleasure to meet you,’ Zoe said.

  ‘And this is Violet.’

  ‘Nice to meet you,’ Violet said in a meek voice.

  ‘This one is too small for high school,’ Great-Aunt Clarice said, nodding at Violet.

  Violet shrunk back at the shock of her rudeness.

  ‘And you two, pull your socks up,’ she barked at me and Zoe.

  We looked down at our socks, which were already neatly pulled up our legs and folded correctly at the cuff.

  ‘But—’ Zoe began.

  ‘Of course, they will,’ Grace said hurriedly, urging us to correct our already-perfect socks.

  ‘When I was Vice Headmistress of this school, the standards were much higher,’ she scoffed. ‘None of this untidiness and slovenly behaviour.’

  Grace frowned in confusion at the word slovenly. I almost explained it means untidy and dirty, but I figured it probably wasn’t the time.

  ‘Great-Aunt Clarice, can I show you inside?’ Grace asked.

  Great-Aunt Clarice turned up her nose and followed Grace into the function hall. Poor Grace looked like she was walking with a pile of books on top of her head.

  We followed Grace into the function hall, where some of the other guests for the luncheon were already milling around. The hall had been beautifully decorated, with the chairs in crisp, white fabric covers that matched the table clothes. There were ornate flower arrangements on the tables and the smell of jasmine wafted through the air.

  Grace stood still as her great-aunt picked at her hair and tried to straighten out her dress. Even from a distance, I could feel Grace’s discomfort. Poor Grace.

  ‘Ella, I’m going to go get ready for my soliloquy,’ Violet said, as she dashed back out the door.

  ‘How are you feeling about hosting
the luncheon?’ I asked Zoe. Zoe didn’t look her usual shade of olive brown, instead her skin looked a pale yellow. I knew this meant she was super nervous.

  ‘OK,’ she said slowly. ‘I should probably go up the front to Mrs Sinclair and Lauren, the School Captain, to check everything is in order. Lauren and I will be welcoming everyone to the luncheon soon and I have to give a short speech about what it has been like for me joining Eden this year.’

  ‘You’ll be great,’ I said, pulling her in for a quick hug. ‘And I, in the meantime, need to go to the kitchen like a poor little Cinderella who has not been invited to the ball!’

  Zoe laughed. ‘But remember how that story ended? Cinderella turned out to be the most royal of all.’ Zoe squeezed my hand and let me go.

  I walked into the kitchen, where the air was buzzing with activity. The kitchen staff were hurriedly preparing finger food for the lunch, and the Year 7 girls who were not directly involved in the luncheon were helping them out.

  The catering manager looked at me and said, ‘Go check your name off on the list and it will tell you which group you are in.’

  I nodded and went to the noticeboard at the entrance of the kitchen and ran my finger down the list of names. There were lots of jobs listed beside each name, ranging from sandwich making to scone preparation, escorting guests to their seats to handing out the food. I spied my name and then groaned as I saw the group I was in.

  Washing-up.

  Ugh! Now I really did feel like Cinderella! I couldn’t believe I was going to be spending the day washing plates and teacups. I looked over towards the sink and saw it was already full of metal bowls and wooden spoons, which had obviously been used for making the scones and biscuits earlier that morning.

  What a laborious task! Laborious means tiresome and unexciting, and that’s exactly how I felt about the day’s duties ahead of me.

  I sighed.

  Suddenly, the door burst open.

  ‘No running in the kitchen!’ the catering manager yelled gruffly.

  I looked up and saw Zoe. Why was she in the kitchen? She looked around, uncharacteristically frazzled. I could see tears streaking down her cheeks and her nose looked pink and a bit runny. I rushed up to her.