My Secret Diary Read online

  Sunday 8 May

  In the morning Mum and I stayed in bed for a while and Daddy went to tennis. It was very, very hot and in the afternoon I only wore my green shirtwaister. It was the Sunday School's anniversary and instead of the usual Y.F. service we all went down into the church and listened to the children's service in which the Juniors took part. Geraldine Webb, Ken's sister, sang a solo. (She has a nice clear little voice.) I was sitting sandwiched between Carol and John Reynolds. Carol wore her new black and white checked dress again. After the service I said goodbye to Carol and Viv and went to tea at Chris's. We decided to go for a walk and took little-girl-next-door Margaret's dog Bluey. She is a lovely, very energetic, cocker spaniel. We took her to Beverly Brook which was crowded with New Maldenites. We went past all these boys who made noises after us, and immediately almost bumped into Ken Webb and Robin Marriot! After tea we re-met Carol and Viv and returned to church. Mr Golden is getting quite pally with us and called me 'Jac' and was very concerned about Carol's cold. We all wore lily of the valley posies on our dresses as they are our church's special flower. In the evening service it was the Seniors' turn to perform and they acted the part of nurses, beggars, school children, etc. Dangling from the roof of the church was a painted sun, moon and some clouds and stars to represent the universe, and every time Mr Kelly or anyone got up to preach they got hit on the head by the sun.

  I still didn't seem to be making proper friends with any of these boys.

  Monday 20 June

  I must admit it would be nice to have a boyfriend to boast about, but boys of my own age are so stupid, and boys of about 16 or 17 who are interested in girls want girls their own age. Oh well, if I'm just patient I expect one will come along some day.

  I had lots of attention from the wrong sort of boy. Whenever Carol and I went to the pictures, older boys usually started whistling or messing around or trying out some corny chat-up line. Carol looked older than me and had a dark, pouty, smouldering look they found very attractive. But we both found these approaches embarrassing and we were under no illusions – they just wanted girls to sit in the back row with them. We knew what was likely to happen.

  Tuesday 9 August

  In the afternoon Carol and I went to the Granada to see 'Make Mine Mink'. It was very very funny, but half the time we weren't watching the screen, but watching the couple in front of us. A girl was sitting in the middle of the row and a boy at the end. The girl got up to go, and as she passed him the boy looked at her. A few minutes later the girl returned, only this time she sat next to him. They started talking, and he gave her a cigarette. Then he casually put his arm along the back of her seat, and then onto her shoulder. Then he leant over and kissed her, then again. She leant back and he leant over her and they kissed and kissed passionately. Then he slowly slid his hand up her skirt but I don't think she liked that because she tried to push it away. Anyway, when the film ended the boy whispered to the girl, and then went out and didn't come back. The girl sat placidly in front of us and watched the second film. Two perfect strangers!

  Boys tried to pick girls up everywhere.

  Friday 22 April

  I met Carol at half past two and we went to the baths, but they were packed, and there was a very long queue. We resolutely joined the end of it. A Teddy boy ran his hand up my back and I said 'Do you mind?' and dragged Carol away as I hate that sort of boy.

  Teddy boys wore their hair in greasy quiffs, they had long fancy jackets down to their knees, bootlace ties, drainpipe trousers and suede shoes with enormous soles. They were nearly all harmless suburban lads, but the very name 'teddy boy' made Biddy think of flick-knives and drinking and sex and doing a ton on motorbikes. She wanted me to find a boyfriend but she'd have fainted if I'd brought home a teddy boy.

  Sunday 17 July

  Went to Burnham Beeches with Carol. At the swimming pool a boy squirted water from a soda siphon all over us. Then we went round the fair together. I turned round, and noticed that four teds were following. Cas and I walked on to the Rollapenny and the teds followed and stood very close behind us. One of them said, 'I dunno how to play Rollapenny, perhaps one of these young ladies will show us how' so I said, 'Okay, if you provide the pennies.' And believe it or not the ted fished in his pocket and brought out a handful of coppers. I felt awful (I don't know why) so I didn't take any.

  This was all pretty tame, but sometimes girls felt very vulnerable back in 1960, when mild sexual harassment was commonplace:

  Thursday 4 August

  Went to Lagoon with Carol. Four boys kept throwing matches at us and kept on talking for hours. I didn't like them and neither did Carol but we stayed until one of them mentioned undoing my swimming costume zip, and then we hastily departed.

  Monday 8 August

  Carol and I went to the Lagoon, but the changing rooms were being sluiced out all day so we had to change in the open. It was horrible. When I had nothing on but a towel on my top some men came along and stared and commented.

  I was starting to despair. There were a good handful of boys I liked, but none of them seemed to want to get to know me properly. All the boys who showed an interest in me were too old or too scary or too crude. But at the end of August Biddy and Harry and I went on holiday to Cornwall – and I had my first real romance.

  12

  Cornwall

  We went on a fortnight's holiday, one week in St Ives and one week in Newquay, with Uncle Ron and Aunty Grace. I wonder whose idea it was. Biddy worked with Ron at Prince Machines and they were very close. I'm sure they'd have loved to go off on holiday, just the two of them. It seemed so strange for us all to go in this awkward fivesome. Why didn't Harry or Grace object? I didn't mind for myself. I'd been to Cornwall before on an odd holiday with Harry and had thought it beautiful. (He and Biddy had separate holidays the year I was eleven – I had to accompany both of them in turn.)

  Cornwall was considered exotic in 1960, before there were cheap package tours abroad. Chris was going on holiday to Eastbourne as usual with Fred, Hetty and Jan. I think Carol and her family were just having day trips here and there.

  I met up with Carol the Friday before we went on holiday and we went to the Boys and Girls Exhibition at Olympia. I'd been there before when I was younger, with Biddy. I'd shyly whispered a few words to the children's author Pamela Brown and been traumatized by George Cansdale wrapping a large snake round my neck. I kept well away from any animal stand this time.

  I looked hopefully for Pamela Brown, or indeed any other authors. I have a feeling Noel Streatfeild might have been there. I'd loved all Noel Streatfeild's books when I was younger and longed to see her, even if I wasn't sure I'd have enough gump to talk to her – not without Biddy prodding me into action. But we couldn't find Noel Streatfeild. It was hard finding any of the stands it was so jam-packed. We simply shuffled here, stumbled there, eating hot dogs for our lunch, giggling and blushing when any boys spoke to us.

  When I got home Biddy had done all my packing for me. She spent hours ironing and folding and arranging every item in perfect patterns until each suitcase looked like a work of art. My white canvas beach shoes and my new pointy black heels touched toes beside my blue and white floral swimming costume and my best baby-doll pyjamas; my underwear was prinked into shape like elaborate table napkins; my two white T-shirts and my startlingly short shorts were carefully folded, still serenely spotless. My pale lilac cardigan was curled round them like a little furry creature, and all my frocks were puffed out and folded over tissue paper: my green shirtwaister and a deep blue floral frock and a new white puff-sleeved dress sprigged with tiny apricot flowers. My favourite lilac skirt floated on top, freshly laundered and immaculately ironed.

  'Oh thanks, Mum, but what about my stuff ? My journal and my notebook and my black folder and—'

  'You're not going to be huddled in a corner writing all day long. You're on holiday,' said Biddy.

  'But what about my books?'

  'You can take a paperback fo