And then later on, this evening, there were drinks & dinner. It was more formal, because of the Jameses. Mummy made me put on a dress.

I felt different around him, all of a sudden.

Guy and I were standing by the French windows together. He suddenly touched my arm, & I wasn’t expecting it. And DD, it felt as if . . . I have never had that before. Like electricity shooting through me, like I was alive, alive for the first time. I looked at him, & he looked at me, & . . .

I want him. I knew it then. I want him to kiss me. I wanted him right at that moment, his beautiful clear grey eyes, his kind, handsome face, slow smile, sweet expression. I wanted to bite his lip, to hold him, for him to hold me . . .

He said I was beautiful. We were silent afterwards, & then we were called into dinner. As I’m writing it now, the memory of it is lovely. Supper was awful, it’s funny to think of it now, Miranda and Uncle John had a huge row. I was barely aware of it. Everything else that’s going on, all these worries I’ve had about all of us, that Miranda’s having an affair with the Bowler Hat, that Mum and Dad aren’t happy, that we’re not the family I thought we were, and I’m moving away from them – this feeling that I want to get away from Summercove, get away they just – they’re not there when I look at Guy.

I’m in love with Guy? Yes, I’m in love with Guy. It should be scary. It’s not.

I escaped to bed as soon as I could. I looked at Guy as I was leaving. He was just there, staring at me. I know he is watching over me. I know he loves me. I love him. So strange to write it! But it’s so natural too. What will tomorrow bring?

I love you darling Guy. I always will.

Love always, Cecily

Saturday, 3rd August 1963

Darling diary I don’t know what to do, how to write this, what to say, I am shaking as I try to hold the pen, because I can’t believe what I’ve seen.

It’s horrible.

I don’t understand how people can do that.

I have been horrible to Miranda. I have got it all wrong, I am so stupid, I know nothing – oh my goodness, though, diary, is this how it happens, what it’s like?

Today I went down to the cove. I have lost a sandal, & I thought it might be down there. I was walking carefully, so I didn’t slip. I heard voices, when I got to the stairs. I should have turned back.

But I didn’t. I could hear the Bowler Hat’s voice. Gosh, I hate him. I hate what he is, what he stands for – that he can just do what he wants & get away with it? I HATE HIM.

I heard things, & I should have just turned & run away, I wish I had. But I wasn’t sure, & I was sure my shoe was down there.

He was down there with Mummy. My mother. I stood completely still, I couldn’t move. He kissed her, they took their clothes off, I saw him touch her, then they began to then I saw I really can’t write what I saw, & then I ran away.

There’s no one I can talk to apart from you. I can’t tell Guy, it’s his brother. I can’t tell Miranda, of course not, she must hate me. I hate myself, for thinking she would do something like this.

I heard the way Mummy laughed at him. Her voice, it was so – cruel. Cold. I almost felt sorry for him, & I hate him!

It’s Mummy. I can’t tell anyone. They wouldn’t believe me. I hardly believe it myself. He was kissing her. He took her top off. She undid his trousers. I saw them . . .

So I said I was feeling ill & I went upstairs and missed lunch. Mummy has been knocking on my door asking if I’m OK all day. I think I want to kill her, but I don’t know what to do. Miranda has ignored me, that’s fine. What shall I do? Oh God. What shall I do?

I don’t feel grown-up any more. I feel like I want to curl into a ball. I want to sleep. I know I won’t be able to though. I wish I wasn’t here any more.

Sunday, 4th August 1963

I did not sleep at all. I am so tired.

And Mummy was vile about missing my sitting. I looked at her as she was being cross with me. Her green green eyes, so evil! Her skin is flushed with freckles and tanned, I know why now. All the times she’s appeared smelling of cigarettes I thought she’d been working, now I know why she’s behind this week all of a sudden with her work.

How did it start? When?

I don’t know what to do. What shall I do?

Guy has been asking if I’m OK. I don’t know what to say to him. I don’t want him to ask me, I can’t tell him, can’t tell any of them. He must think I’m ignoring him.

I was sitting out on the lawn with him and all the others & the BH & Louisa were hugging each other & I just watched the BH. He saw me, & he looked uneasy. I thought, I can’t stay here any longer, so I just went upstairs again & I’m here. The house is full, full of people. There’s no space, no respite, except in my room. I act perfectly normally, I even reply when people ask me questions, & inside I am screaming, like a mad person. There are things I can’t stop seeing in my head, like Mummy’s face as she turned towards him, laughing, alive, full of cruelty, so beautiful . . . I didn’t know her, not at all, & she is my mother. I can’t understand it. I keep seeing my sandal, bobbing in the water behind them, at the edge of the sea, & then nearly slipping & falling as I stand at the top of the steps, they are treacherous. Imagine if they saw me . . .

It is strange, how you can appear normal to people. As if nothing’s different. I am doing it, the Bowler Hat is doing it, Mummy is doing it. I don’t want them to ever know. I should tell Louisa, I know I should. But I simply can’t do that.

Perhaps it’s not so bad, they will split up & she will marry someone else. And then I think no, something has poisoned us, this will stay with us for ever. Mummy did this, she is behind it. She is my mother, I can’t believe it. Am I being prudish? Have I been closeted away for too long?

Is this quite usual, elsewhere? Do properly grown-up people act like this all the time?

If I didn’t know, everything could go on as normal. But I feel that because I know it can’t, now. If I wasn’t here, it would be OK.

Monday, 5th August 1963

I have just reread the first pages of this diary. It’s like they’re from another lifetime. It is only two weeks. I feel like a different person. One thing after another, & it’s as if I am watching myself do these things, say them.

Tonight I kissed Guy. I nearly had sex with him, in fact.

Funny, that we didn’t, in the end, because I would have let him, only he stopped. I have never seen a grown man naked before. Now I have seen two, in three days. Guy, & his brother. I liked the idea that if I let him be with me, that he & his brother would have done some kind of double act, a mother & a daughter. Perhaps that’s what happens in real life, perhaps I’ve just been innocent and stupid. But I am the only person who’d know that. Oh, DD, I wish I could be back at school, in my dorm with Margaret, Rita & Jennifer. Being told what to do, when to do it, instead of this terrifying summer world I’m living in.

Most of all, I feel sad. Because before all this I thought Guy was . . . don’t know how to put it, because it is ridiculous. But someone I knew.

Someone I could fall in love with.

I still think that. But I also think it’s too late, for him & for me.

It happened like this: Mummy, Jeremy, Uncle John & Aunt Pamela played bridge after supper. Very demure. The Bowler Hat & Louisa sat outside with their cigarettes, listening to some jazz, he with his arms round her, both of them gazing up at the stars. She looked so happy, with her little pink & white face & fluffy hair. He was behind her, one hand on her shoulder, one on her ribcage, & he looked bored. I could tell he was trying to move one hand down, the other up, so he could touch her breasts, without looking indecorous. There was something . . . OH GOD, I HATE THIS.

Something so disgusting!! So vile & animal like about him, his leg splayed out, carelessly trying to touch L, when I know what he’s been doing . . . it made me feel sick, & . . .

Anyway, I got up & said, ‘I’m just going to shut the gate.’ Guy followed me.

‘Do you want to go for a walk,’ he said. It is a beautiful night, very clear, very warm. Stars everywhere.

We walked down the path, towards the sea. I wasn’t even thinking about trying to impress him, now, I was just thinking about BH & his hands,

& Mummy sitting upright playing bloody cards.

Guy said, ‘Cecily, are you all right?’

‘Yes.’

‘Because – if you don’t mind me saying it – you seem rather twitchy. I hope I haven’t said anything . . .’

I looked round at him, & he is looking at me, rather anxiously, & he looks so sweet, so reassuring, so kind, an island in the middle of this sea, like St Michael’s Mount. He’s the one person I think isn’t bad or stupid or evil or wronged or doing something wrong.