Mimi by John Newman

sister in the whole wide world.
    “I’m her
only
sister in the whole wide world,” I told the diary — but I did like reading it.
    And I love you and I even love Conor although I can’t stand him most of the time, and I love Daddy and even though everybody hates me now I want you to tell them that I’m OK and that I’m safe and sound and that I haven’t gone away forever. Just until I sort things out in my head a bit — and there is no need to call the police or get into a panic, and I’m sorry to worry everybody because I know they love me, and I will never ever steal again. Tell them that, Mimi . . . and stop reading my diary!
    The page was all wet and smudged. Sally must have been blubbering away when she wrote that.

Everybody turned and looked at me when I walked back into the kitchen. They were all standing or sitting just where they had been when I had run out. It was as if they had all been frozen in time, and now when I walked back in they all started again and Aunt M. asked me if I was all right now.
    “Sally is OK,” I blurted out. “She says don’t call the police.”
    Everyone looked startled for a moment, and then they all started asking questions.
    “Were you talking to her?” asked Dad very quickly.
    “Where is she?” said Granny.
    “How do you know this?” Aunt B. wanted to know.
    “Give the child a chance!” said Grandad to them all.
    I took a big breath. I didn’t really want to say how I knew, so I said, “She wrote me a note and said that she is OK and don’t call the police.”
    I thought that would stop the questions — but it only made things worse!
    “What note?”
    “When did you get this?”
    “What exactly did the note say?”
    “Did she say she was coming back?”
    Grandad had to come to my rescue again. “Stop, the lot of you,” he said. It was funny to hear Grandad being the bossy one for a change. “Mimi will tell us everything she knows if you give her half a chance.”
    And that did shut them up. Then Dad asked me gently, “Can you show us the note, Mimi?”
    That was the one thing I really did not want to do. “No,” I said.
    “Oh, for heaven’s sake!” snapped Granny. “Her sister has run away from home and we are all worried sick and she won’t show us the damn note!”
    Granny sounded so cross. She was talking about me as if I weren’t there, and I didn’t like it one bit. I could feel a lump in my throat.
    Then Dad pulled me toward him and sat me on his knee. “Shush,” he said to Granny. Granny didn’t like that, I could tell. She pursed her lips and looked as though she was about to explode. Then he said to me, “Now, lovey, why can’t you show us the note? Did Sally ask you not to?”
    “I read it in her diary,” I said in a low voice, and I had to look at my shoes. It was my turn to feel ashamed now.
    Aunt M. crouched down beside me and took my hand. I couldn’t look at her, but there was a smile in her voice when she spoke. “Well, isn’t that funny, Sally writing a diary — because the only other person I know who did that was your mother, Poppy. And I know that, Mimi, because I used to secretly read it!”
    I could hardly believe it. Aunt M. used to read my mammy’s diary. Just like me and Sally.
    “Someday I’ll tell you what she used to write in it,” continued Aunt M.
    “Look, I’m sorry for being impatient with you,” interrupted Granny, “but I should think, in the circumstances, that you could show us the diary.”
    “No,” said Dad, and Granny threw her eyes to heaven. “I don’t think Sally would like Mimi to do that.”
    “Will you have some sense, for God’s sake!” Granny was shouting now. “I’ve already lost a daughter — I don’t want to lose a granddaughter!”
    And the next thing Granny was crying in our kitchen and Grandad had his arms around her and was whispering and tut-tutting, “Sally is going to be all right, you’ll see. She’ll be home soon.” He handed her a tissue. Daddy said to