My Secret Diary (16 page)

I rubbed my eyes, wondering if I was just
imagining him, but he came right up to me, smiling.

'Hello, Jacky. Do you want to dance?' he said.

I danced with him for the rest of the evening.
Whenever there was a jiving session Colin joined
in too, the three of us gyrating on the spot in our
odd trio.

Then I danced a slow foxtrot with Cookie, the
two of us shuffling gently about the room. His arms
were round my waist, my cheek was touching his,
but we couldn't get really close in front of everyone,
especially not Biddy and Harry.

'Shall we go outside for a bit?' Cookie whispered
into my ear.

I nodded. We simply held hands and walked
through the French windows into the hotel garden.
It was so cool and quiet there after the noise and
clamour of the dance floor. We stood still, breathing
in the sweet smells of stocks and roses. But then
we heard giggling behind us, and another couple
stumbled out into the garden too.

'Let's go for a little walk,' said Cookie. 'Shall we
go to the beach?'

'Yes, let's,' I said.

I didn't go back to tell Biddy where I was going.
We simply linked fingers and walked out of the
garden, down the road, towards the sea. We looked
up at the moon and tried counting the stars.

'Do you know what they're all called?'
Cookie asked.

'Well, that's the Pole Star,' I said, peering
up at the brightest and biggest star. 'And could
that be the Great Bear, that cluster there?
And I think that's the Pleiades, seven stars
together, the smallest in the sky. One of them's
called Maia.'

'You've been reading an astronomy book.'

'No, it's
Mary Poppins
. Maia was my favourite
character,' I said. 'Did you read it, Cookie?'

'I think my sister did. I read the Jennings books.
And William. They didn't tell you about stars. I
know all about space though, from Dan Dare in
the
Eagle
comic.'

'Well, we're both well-informed then,' I said as
we got to the beach.

The sea sucked at the sands, the shushing sound
seeming louder at night. I slipped off my heels and
stepped onto the beach.

'The sand feels so much colder now,' I said.

'We won't go for a paddle then, we don't want
to freeze,' said Cookie. 'You're not too cold now,
are you, Jacky?' He put his arm round me. 'Here,
I'll warm you up a bit.'

'I'm fine,' I said, snuggling into him. 'This is
lovely. I've never been for a moonlit walk before.'
'I like walking in the dark. There's this
graveyard near where I live. When I was a little
kid it spooked me out and I thought there were all
these ghosts hanging round the gravestones. I felt
embarrassed I was so scared. I even had nightmares
about it, so one day I forced myself to go there by
myself. I was actually shaking like a leaf, but when
I got in the graveyard it was fine. It was so peaceful,
and I just walked around touching all the
gravestones, and ever since then I like to cut
through the graveyard and have a little quiet time
there. Do you think I'm a bit crazy?'

'No, I think you're the most interesting boy I've
ever met,' I said truthfully.

'No, I'm not, I can't be – but you're
definitely
the most interesting girl I've ever met,' said Cookie,
and he stopped and kissed me.

We didn't quite have the beach to ourselves.
There was a dim glow from a barbecue party down
at one end, and several mad surfers were yelling
in the water.

'Come with me,' said Cookie, and we went into
the caves.

It was so dark I couldn't see anything at all. I
had to cling to Cookie and he clung to me, and then
we were kissing and whispering and wishing we
could stay there for ever.

Neither of us had watches. It was very very late
when we eventually walked back up the beach
towards the hotel.

'So I suppose this is goodbye,' Cookie said.

'Oh, I wish it wasn't,' I said, putting my arms
round his neck.

'I've scribbled my address – here,' said Cookie,
tucking a piece of paper into my pocket. 'Will you
write to me?'

'Of course I will!'

'And we'll maybe meet up again next summer?'

"Yes!'

'And you won't ever forget me?'

'I'll never ever forget you,' I said, and then we
kissed goodbye for the last time.

I did write to him, of course, a long long letter,
page after page of my innermost thoughts. He
wrote back to me, just two sides of paper, but he
addressed me as 'Darling Jacky' and signed it 'Love
from Cookie'.

I wrote again. I had to wait a week or more
before I got an answer, just a postcard this time,
with a lot of boring stuff about his school. I wrote
a proper letter – and then another – and another.
Eventually I got a letter back –
from his mother
!
She was very sweet, and said how the whole family
had enjoyed meeting me and that Cookie was very
fond of me – 'but I'm afraid he's not very good at
writing letters'.

I wrote back to thank her. And that was it. I
never heard from Cookie again, and we didn't go
back to Cornwall the following summer. I was
heartbroken. So what did I do? I wrote about it.

The next year I started a new, more elaborate
journal. I wrote in it in February 1961:

Ever since last Summer I've been trying to write a
novel. This was vaguely based on last summer
holiday, and dealt with Cookie in detail. I was
convinced that I was writing what was to become
a great classic, and dabbled around with it at the
weekends and in the evenings. I now know that it
was only very adolescent escapism. I had no
boyfriend or anything, and in the Summer I had
spent a nice week with Cookie, so I unconsciously
comforted myself by my very infantile book about
my 'adult' experience.

I was pretty hard on myself! I wish I still had
that story now. Later, in April, writing in my diary
I said:

Hello. I've nothing much to write about as today
was so quiet and ordinary, so I'll write down
anything that comes into my head. The nice thing
about keeping this diary is that I write about
everything without being laughed at; I can write
down secrets with no fear of them being told; I can
just scribble away to my heart's content. I don't even
have to worry about writing or spelling because I
don't mind a bit if I'm untidy. You get a lovely sense
of freedom this way. It's funny, I'm getting very
enthusiastic about diary writing, and yet when I
was on holiday I decided to give it up. I'm still
terribly conceited – I thought I would write a full
length novel based on my Bruges holiday
[a school
trip that Easter, my first time abroad]
. All this time
and I'm still not cured. After several attempts to
begin I wisely admitted defeat and returned to you.
But I'm still not crushed – I'm going to write a
book, but not yet, because 15 is too young, too
immature. After all, I wanted to write a book at 14,
about last summer. I thought I knew it all; now my
attitude has changed completely and I feel much
more grown up, and yet not so superior. I know I'm
just a silly little fool, probably with absolutely no
gift for writing at all, yet that doesn't prevent me
from trying. I've got to be a writer and nothing else.

Jacqueline Wilson

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JACQUELINE WILSON was
born in Bath in 1945, but has
spent most of her life in
Kingston-upon-Thames, Surrey.
She always wanted to be
a writer and wrote her first
'novel' when she was nine,
filling countless Woolworths'
exercise books as she grew
up. She started work at
a publishing company and
then went on to work as
a journalist on
Jackie
magazine (which was named
after her) before turning to writing fiction full-time.

Since 1990 Jacqueline has written prolifically for
children and has won many of the top awards
for children's books, including the
Guardian
Children's Fiction Award, the Smarties Prize, the
Red House Book Award and the Children's Book
of the Year. Jacqueline was awarded an OBE
in the Queen's Birthday Honours list in 2002
and was made a Dame in 2008. She was the
Children's Laureate in 2005—2007. She is the
most borrowed author of all from British libraries
and an astounding twenty-five million copies of
her books have now been sold in the UK.

An avid reader herself, Jacqueline has a personal
col lection of many, many thousands of books.
She has one grown-up daughter.

Everybody knows
Tracy Beaker,
Jacqueline Wilson's
best-loved character.
But what do they
know about
Jacqueline herself?

In this fascinating book,
discover . . .

. . . how Jacky dealt with an unpredictable father,
like Prue in
Love Lessons
.
. . . how she chose new toys in Hamleys,
like Dolphin in
The Illustrated Mum
.
. . . how she sat entrance exams,
like Ruby in
Double Act
.

But most of all discover how Jacky loved reading and
writing stories. From the very first story she wrote, it
was clear that this little girl had a vivid imagination.
But who would've guessed that she would grow up
to be a bestselling, award-winning author!

Includes previously unseen photos, Jacqueline's
own school reports and a brand new chapter from
Jacqueline on the response to the book, her
teenage years and more!