| Thursday 17 September 1942 |
[Dec. 24th, 2008|12:28 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  scared | ] |
I guess I really believe that I'm better now. And there's nobody pretending to be my Dad and lying to me any more either, as long as the salt is around. And I can go home to the Bradburies soon, and at least Mattie doesn't know anything about me (or about anything really) and I can change his nappies or something.
But those are the only good things in my whole life now. I don't know if I really believe Dr Leffoy that his brother would accept an apology, and even if he did Brown is still dead and so is Dad for that matter and we're Lovedays now but there's still a curse on us. I hope Annie and Kat know to watch out for it. I really don't want to talk to them. I really don't want to talk to anyone. |
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| Sunday 13 September 1942 |
[Apr. 21st, 2008|08:16 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | frightened | ] |
She really is dead. When Goyle said it at breakfast I thought maybe it was a lie, but that was stupid. Smith was possessed and Brown is dead. All the other girls died the same way. It wasn't Annie but it could have been. And Wood didn't care about anything except having a stupid party. And I helped him. I'm supposed to look after my family now Dad is dead, and instead I could have killed them all. |
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| Saturday 12 September 1942 |
[Mar. 12th, 2008|08:34 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  grumpy | ] |
I thought maybe Wood would believe me. But he doesn't. And I'm not old enough to go to the party.
Still, at least someone talked to me. I mean, someone not related to me, and who isn't crazy like Greengrass. Who was so crazy he got sent to St Mungos.
I miss Dad. He believed what I had to say. |
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| Unposted owl, dated Friday 11 September 1942 |
[Dec. 15th, 2007|09:58 am] |
| [ | mood |
| |  sad | ] |
Dear Dad,
I thought for about an hour that you'd really write back. Don't worry I'm not a nutter or anything, like Miss Jeannot was. It was pretty dumb of me I know.
Your son,
Bill |
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| Unposted owl, dated Thursday 10 September, 1942 |
[Nov. 2nd, 2007|09:48 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | wondering | ] |
Dear Dad,
It's Day 4 of being Mr Pendry. I am trying to do the best I can, but now I know how hard it is to be hated by the whole world. Even Annie and Kat don't believe in you.
If you're out there, can you tell me one thing though? Ed says that if you were coming back for us, you should have come back for us and taken us away, because for sure going to the Leffoys was going to kill you. And you always said that too, that that place would be the last place you'd set foot because they'd never let it be otherwise.
So why didn't you come for us then?
Your son,
Bill |
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| Tuesday 8 September 1942 |
[Sep. 15th, 2007|08:43 am] |
| [ | mood |
| | angry | ] |
Ed says Dad's dead. Mr Bradbury says Dad's dead. So does the paper. And it says he's a traitor, and so does everyone else. As usual.
I didn't think it was true for a while, that he was dead, but now I think it is. Why else wouldn't he have come back for us? He tried to come even though they were hunting him, and now they've killed him. And nothing's going to happen to any of them unless I do it, because they've convinced everyone he's a traitor. Even Jack and Dai are practically on Leffoy's side now, thanks to Kyteler's influence.
He was coming back for us. And they killed him. |
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| Friday 4 September 1942 |
[Apr. 28th, 2007|08:19 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | pissed off | ] |
I don’t care what they say. They might call me Bill Loveday, but that isn’t really my name. My name is William Marcus PENDRY and there is nothing they can do or say that will change that.
And I still love Dad, even if the rest of them don’t. |
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| Wednesday 2 September 1942 |
[Feb. 24th, 2007|09:26 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | annoyed | ] |
I told people that Marvell didn’t kill anyone but did they listen? No. But now some weird-looking man from the New World with a funny hat says the same thing and they’ll listen to him.
Oh, and everyone hates us because of what the Leffoys claim Dad did to them. All the people who actually matter are firmly on our side, pretty much. Lewis says Dad is a crazy man, but Lewis always says that. It’s probably because Dad calls called calls him a hooligan.
Annie cries sometimes when she doesn’t think anyone’s looking. Who cares about the opinions of Arianwen Rosier anyway? Her Dad is the one who has Aunt Mercy and a Leffoy wife too: Dad says Mercy is weak like a lot of women, but he wants to get her home from them.
Leffoy’s trying to ruin Kat and it doesn’t help that she ended up in Avalon somehow, probably they want a hostage. I’ll have to ask Marvell to keep an eye on them, so I’ll know if Leffoy tries anything funny, it's just too bad we didn't drown him. |
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| Tuesday 1 September 1942 |
[Dec. 19th, 2006|03:10 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | miserable | ] |
I would normally care that Kat has sided with Smarmygit Lockhart has sided but they can do anything they like for all I care. She's already friends with a Leffoy, of course she's going to side with Lockhart. Lockhart's uncle has taken off and left Dad in the lurch, which meant he has had to go too. Until the real story can be told. I wonder where he is tonight? Once he comes back, everything that's happened to him is going to fall on every Leffoy and every Lockhart and every Crockford instead. |
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| Sunday 30 August 1942 |
[Nov. 6th, 2006|03:08 am] |
| [ | mood |
| | disgusted | ] |
Stuck in bed again. I have ugliest, most boring ceiling in the world.
I bet we wouldn’t have fallen in the river if Lewis hadn’t lost his head when Dad started bellowing. And he wouldn't have been half so mad if we hadn't fallen in and Mr Bradbury had never found out. And Dad wouldn’t have even followed us if we hadn’t taken Kat—but Lewis fancies her. It’s disgusting.
At least they'll let me go back to school Tuesday.
This is all Kat’s fault. |
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| Thursday 27 August 1942 |
[Jul. 10th, 2006|11:20 am] |
| [ | mood |
| |  shocked | ] |
There is a strange man in the kitchen. Drinking tea with Dad. He looks like he’s a reporter, except Dad said he’d never speak to another reporter ever again after the Herald made him look like a fool. I hope Dad knows what he's doing. This man looks like a right tosser: he’s wearing a lavender suit. I don't want Dad to get hurt again, but I do want everyone to know the truth at last. |
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| Tuesday 18 August 1942 |
[Feb. 25th, 2006|03:35 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | aggravated | ] |
I have been vigilantly guarding my bed these last two days. Still no more bat shite. But I’m not going to let down my guard yet.
I can’t believe she collaborated with a Leffoy. Dad is really mad about it, and she deserves it: she ought to know better. She basically sold out our family for a stupid joke.
She’s on nappy duty now ‘til September. Which is less than she deserves, I don't know why Dad isn't giving her a lot worse.
School can’t come soon enough. |
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| Wednesday 12 August 1942 |
[Jan. 11th, 2006|02:27 am] |
| [ | mood |
| | satisfied | ] |
It wasn’t such a bad birthday after all. The cake was good and Mum and Dad got me a broom! Now I don’t have to wait until Kat stops hogging ours all the time. (Kat is such a broom-hog, it’s ridiculous. And it’s not even as if she’s that good a flyer, I won twice as many games of SPELL as she did last time we played with Theo.) I also got a big bag of chocolate frogs from Annie (and Kat) and one of those four-colour ink quills from Leander, Samantha, and Aunt and Uncle Lovegood, but my best present of all was from Theo! (Well, technically it was also from his sisters and my other aunt and uncle, but I’m pretty sure he did all the picking out of it.)
I am now the proud owner of Jenkins’ Broadside which tells the story of the 1892 racing season. It’s a brilliant book. Dad should be home soon, I wonder what he has for me?
Of course, Leander spent most of his time studying the dust under Dad’s armchair for traces of bandersnatch feathers, but that’s Leander for you. |
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| Tuesday 4 August 1942 |
[Dec. 8th, 2005|06:43 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | bitchy | ] |
Sick day. I hate sick days. And Kat keeps running around the house like some stupid Red Indian, just because she can.
I don’t even feel sick but Mum says my forehead is hot so I’m stuck on this stupid couch. I bet I won’t even get solid food for supper tonight.
I hate everybody. |
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| Sunday 26 July 1942 |
[Oct. 29th, 2005|03:54 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | tired | ] |
I really, really, really, really don’t like pixies.
That is all. |
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