Jonesy is waiting for me when I get off the bus in the evening. She tells me that she tried to read the diary on her own at dinnertime.
‘Les, I still couldn’t make any sense of it. It’s full of initials.’
‘You’ve read it all?’
‘The lot. I don’t understand it. Are you going to get your tea?’
‘Naw, let’s go somewhere and read it.’
We scurry to the nearest bench, me carrying my schoolbag and her carrying the diary inside her top so no one can see. We sit down and she shows me. The pages are very small and the writing is cramped. It’s in pencil and you can see bits have been rubbed out. But the paper is thin and sometimes the writing has gone through it. Not every day is written on; it seems to be a mixture of the mundane and exciting.
Met T aft schl by gym. Said I diff frm oth grls. Kssd, nrly sn.
Grls tkng abt me. Thy nd 2 kp mth sht
T ddnt lk at me at all tdy, think smth wrng
T kssd me gnst wll.
‘What do you think it means, Les?’
‘Well, the first one looks like it says, “Met T after school by the gym. He said I was different from the other girls. We kissed, nearly seen.”’
‘God, I know that, Les, that’s obvious, I’m no an eejit. What I meant was, who is T?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Well how do we find out?’
I read some more. Lots of mentions of T. Jane seemed to like T more and more. But after the 8th of May there’s nothing. The last entry says ‘mtg T tmrw, gttg thgs strt’ and that’s it, her life over. It’s hard seeing her life no longer on paper.
A life that stopped when she had so many empty pages to be filled. I feel a sadness for Jane Denton that I didn’t the day she died. Then, it was just shock; I didn’t know her well so I didn’t feel sad, just scared. Now, seeing the life she had taken away, I feel the loss.
Jonesy and I try to guess who T might be, who we know with that initial. Maybe it stands for something else. Maybe it’s a code?
I tell Jonesy this but then say that I don’t think Jane was the sort of girl who would have used a cipher. I have to explain what a cipher is. Once Jonesy gets her head round it, she agrees that it doesn’t sound like Jane.
My mind is racing. We go back to the cottage and spend the rest of the evening trying out our theories on one another.
‘So who is T?’ says Jonesy for the tenth time.
‘Dunno, but it’s got to be one of the boys or men at the Homes. She definitely likes T but mibbie T forces her to do somethin’ and she fights back and T kills her. Or what if T sees her with another boy and kills her? Or, or she doesnae like T any more and splits with him and then he kills her?’
‘It’s got to be one of them. Jealous as hell, I reckon, jealous and he’s gone, like, “If I can’t have you no one can,” and he’s killed her cos he cannae handle her with anyone else. But who is it?’
‘Well they’re gonnae be older than her, right? She’s no going to be going with a boy younger than her, is she?’
‘Who’s her housefather?’
‘Mr Calder? The fella’s a cripple, he’s got arthritis up to his eyeballs. Has to use a stick. I could take him.’
‘Les, if you can take Glenda McAdam, you can take anyone. Could be you, Les? Did you go in one of your rages? Has your new power gone to your heid?’
‘Get off, will you? This is serious. Who do we know whose name starts with a T? Tim Fitzgerald?’
‘My Tim?’ She snorts. ‘Naw, no my Tim, he’s too nice, wouldnae be him. Besides, he’s fourteen and Jane was fifteen, there’s no way she’d be going with him, girls that good-looking don’t go with boys younger than them.’
‘Tommy McAdam, Glenda’s brother? He’s her age.’
‘Aye, he’s a wild one, proper daftie.’
‘Right, so Tommy McAdam. There’s got to be more Ts.’
‘We talkin’ first names or surnames?’
‘I dunno.’
‘Cos probably dozens of kids in the village have got Ts for surnames.’
‘Ah, Jonesy, I dunno.’
This goes on for another hour and by the end we have a list of twelve boys of the right age with first names that start with T and fourteen with surnames that start with T. But no one who we think Jane Denton would have wanted to kiss.