The Secrets of Ivy Garden by Catherine Ferguson

Author:Catherine Ferguson
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780008215736
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2017-03-19T16:00:00+00:00

Summer

‘Summer was a book of hope. That’s why I loved and hated summers. Because they made me want to believe.’

– Benjamin Alire Sáenz (Aristotle and Dante

Discover the Secrets of the Universe)

NINETEEN

When the doorbell rings early next morning, I know exactly who it will be.

I open the door with a big smile. ‘Your story’s brilliant.’

Layla peers at me anxiously. ‘You’re just saying that to be nice.’

‘No, I’m not. If I didn’t like it, I’d say it had potential or something. But I do like it. I like it a lot. You have real talent as a writer, Layla.’

‘No, I don’t.’ She frowns as she crosses the threshold, but I can see a smile fighting to get the upper hand.

‘You bloody well do. Look, I don’t want to give you false hope here, Layla. I’m definitely no expert on literary matters. But I know what I like – and I very much like this!’

I’m surprised to feel hot tears pricking my lids.

Layla lets out a girlish shout of delight. Then she clamps her lips together to hide her glee.

She sits down at the kitchen table while I fill the kettle. About to swing her boot-clad feet on a chair, she catches my eye and crosses her legs instead.

‘How long have you been writing these stories?’

‘Oh, since I was about fifteen, I suppose. I was meant to be studying for exams but we all knew there wasn’t much point because I was going to flunk the lot. So I used to escape into my imagination instead. It seemed like a far better use of my time to be honest. And it was fun, just opening my mouth and seeing what came out in the recording.’

‘But you must dream up the plot first, before you start dictating it into your phone?’

‘Yeah. Of course. That’s the easy bit. Choosing the right words is much more like being back at school – but in a good way.’

I laugh. ‘So you have all the right words but not necessarily in the correct order?’ I quip, remembering something Ivy used to say.

‘You what?’ Layla looks puzzled.

I shake my head. ‘Don’t suppose you’ve ever heard of Morecambe and Wise.’

She frowns. ‘Are they an R & B band?’

‘Comedians. From way before your time.’ I reach into the cupboard for the tin of oatmeal cookies. As I arrange them on a plate, I’m smiling to myself at the whole ‘suspicious package’ misunderstanding. It’s a good lesson for me in not jumping to conclusions, and I’m sure Prue and Jack would also be pleasantly astonished if they read Layla’s work.

‘What’s this?’ I hear Layla ask. ‘Have you been writing a diary?’

Diary?

My heart leaps.

I spin round and Layla is flicking through Ivy’s notebook, which I’d left lying on the worktop.

‘No!’ I snatch it out of her hands and she looks at me in alarm.

I shrug awkwardly, holding the diary behind my back. ‘It’s – um – not mine. It’s Ivy’s diary.’

‘Wow. Should you be reading it?’

Her question makes me blanch. I hadn’t thought about the moral angle.

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