Eva and the Hidden Diary by Judi Curtin

Mum came out to see what was goingon. She doesn’t like me talking to strangers – even ones with fancy clothes and big shiny cars.
    ‘Everything OK here?’ she asked.
    ‘Everything’s fine, Mum,’ I said. ‘This is …’
    ‘Georgina Eades,’ said the woman, holding her hand towards my mum. ‘I’ve come to talk to your daughter and her friend. I hope you don’t mind.’
    ‘I think that depends on what you’ve got to say to them,’ said Mum, stepping forward, ready to protect us if necessary.
    ‘They came to see me the other day and they said something that made me think deeply,’ said Georgina.
    ‘And what exactly did they say?’ asked Mum staring at me suspiciously, like she might not like the answer.
    ‘They said, “It’s never too late to right a wrong,”’ said Georgina. ‘And I have to agree with them. I think the time has come for me to tell them what I know.’
    Kate looked at me with a huge smile on her face. Maybe the Daisy story wasn’t over just yet.

    In the end, we all went in to my place. Mum made tea for herself and Georgina, and I got glasses of milk for Kate and me. Then we all sat around the kitchen table and Georgina told us her story.
    ‘I was brought up in England,’ she began. ‘And when I was young, I barely knew my grandfather – he was just a grouchy old man my parents took me to visit every now and again. But twenty years ago my grandfather became very ill and I came over here to live in his house and take care of him.’
    ‘That was kind of you,’ said Mum.
    ‘Especially since he was so grouchy,’ I added.
    ‘Perhaps,’ said Georgina. ‘My parents had died by then, and George didn’t have anyoneelse who could help him. I couldn’t simply leave him to die alone.’
    ‘So you moved in and got to know him?’ I asked.
    ‘Yes,’ said Georgina. ‘It was a difficult few months though. I’m afraid George was a bitter, troubled man. In the beginning, he would barely talk to me, but as the days went by and he became weaker, that changed. I think he knew that his time on earth was limited, and his conscience began to get the better of him.’
    ‘And what about the Lavelles? What did George tell you about Jean-Marc? Why did he say he saw him stealing the chalice?’ I asked impatiently, ignoring the cross looks my mum was shooting in my direction.
    ‘My grandfather took many weeks to tell me this story,’ said Georgina gently. ‘I don’t feel I can rush it all out to you in a few short minutes.’
    ‘Sorry,’ I whispered, feeling bad.
    ‘My grandfather had two sons,’ said Georgina.‘There was my father, Albert, and his younger brother Henry. Henry was always his dad’s favourite. He was a handsome lad, and by all accounts, he was a real little charmer when he was a boy. Everybody loved him.’
    I was wondering where this story was going, but one look at my mum’s face told me that rushing Georgina’s story was not a good idea.
    ‘When my father left school, he got a steady job in the bank,’ she continued. ‘But Henry didn’t want a settled life like that. He was an adventurer. Against his father’s wishes, he joined the British Army. He went off to war.’
    ‘The Second World War?’ asked Mum.
    Georgina nodded. ‘Yes, and when he came back three years later, I’m afraid Henry was a different boy altogether.’
    ‘Had he been wounded?’ asked Kate.
    ‘Not physically,’ said Georgina. ‘Physically he was as good as new, but the mental scars went very deep.’
    ‘Did he have shell-shock?’ I asked. ‘We learned about that in history in school.’
    ‘I think they called it something else by then,’ said Georgina. ‘But it was pretty much the same thing. It wasn’t very well understood at the time, and, by all accounts, poor Henry suffered very badly. His hands shook all the time. He used to wake in the night screaming and roaring, and no one knew how to calm him.’
    ‘The poor man,’ said Kate. ‘That must have been awful for his