“Here, come inside. You don’t want to be out in a storm.”
Dear Diary,
Another wet jour so I’m sitting in the bibliothèque to write this, not that I mind so much because I do l’amour books, after all. They’re such an escape when this place gets dreary ou the atmosphere stuffily unbearable. Anya is in a huff again; about goodness knows what. Ferdinand says she’s getting far too haughty and Derek says she’s getting too big for her boots. I’m inclined to agree with both of them. I don’t know what’s got into her lately. She’s changed from the girl I used to know. I think it’s something to do with the fact that our parents favour her over the rest...
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