Secret Meeting

Secret Meeting
Jean Ure

One of the brilliant titles in Jean Ure’s acclaimed series of humorous, delightful and poignant stories written in the form of diaries and letters which make them immediately accessible to children.Megan and Annie are bright twelve-year-old girls, who are desperate to meet their favourite author, Harriet Chance. When Annie makes contact with Harriet ‘s daughter via an Internet chat room, the girls are ecstatic. Lori helps them to arrange a secret meeting with Harriet, and the girls congratulate themselves on being so clever. But when they meet the author she’s a bit strange. Why does Megan seem to know more about the author than she does herself? Why does Harriet seem so edgy? Is this really their favourite author, or are the girls in real trouble…?Jean Ure’s diary series includes: Passion Flower, Pumpkin Pie, Shrinking Violet, Skinny Melon and Me, The Secret Life of Sally Tomato, Becky Bananas, This is Your Life! and Fruit and Nutcase

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For Chris and Joan with love and respect

Table of Contents

Cover (#u3c1e8f2b-2942-5b23-b82b-8951ec03f556)

Title Page (#ub10de406-ffcb-5ec6-b76a-45bcf4042699)

Dedication (#ub10de406-ffcb-5ec6-b76a-45bcf4042699)

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Also by the Author (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)

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My friend Annie is completely bonkers. Loopy, wacko. Seriously doolally, as my nan would say. She does the craziest things! Like in biology, one time, we were supposed to be dissecting plums, and when Miss Andrews said, “Annabel Watson, where is your plum?” Annie said, “Oops, sorry, miss! I ate it.”

“Ate it?” said Miss Andrews. “Ate your plum?”

She couldn’t believe it! I could, ’cos I know Annie. She drank some paint water once, when we were in juniors. She said it looked so pretty, like pink lemonade.

Some people think she does it to show off, but it’s not that at all. She just happens to be a very zany sort of person. I, on the other hand, am desperately sensible and boring. I would never do anything silly, if it weren’t for Annie. She is always getting us into hot water! The only times I ever have my name in the order mark book are when Annie’s told me to do something and I’ve gone and done it, even though I know it means trouble. Like, for instance, hiding ourselves in the stationery cupboard when we should have been outside playing hockey. I knew it would end in disaster. I only did it ’cos I hate hockey – well, and because Annie said it would be fun. What she didn’t realise was that Mrs Gibson, our head teacher, was due to take a special sixth form study group in our classroom. With us still in the cupboard!!!

Mrs Gibson was quite surprised when someone opened the cupboard door and we fell out. We were quite surprised, ourselves.

That was two order marks. One for missing hockey, and one for damaging school property (trampling on the stationery).

Then there was the time she decided – Annie, I mean – that we should go to school wearing birds’ nests in our hair. She’d found these old nests in her garden and she said, “Think how cool it would look! We could start a new fashion.”

She perched one on her head and it sat there like a little cap, really sweet, with tiny bits of twig and feather sticking out, so I did the same, and we went into assembly like it, and people kept looking at us and giggling, until all of a sudden this thing, this horrible maggoty thing, started to crawl out of Annie’s nest and slither down the side of her face, and the girl next to her screeched out, really loud, like she was being attacked by a herd of man-eating slugs. I screeched, too, but in a more strangulated way, and tore my nest off and threw it on the floor, which started a kind of mini stampede and brought the assembly to a standstill.

We didn’t actually get order marks for that, but Mrs Gibson told us that we were behaving childishly and irresponsibly, adding, “I’m surprised at you, Megan.” Later on, at Parents’ Evening, she told Mum that I was too easily influenced.

“She lets herself be led astray.”

She meant, of course, by Annie. If it weren’t for Annie I’d probably be the goodest person in the whole of our class! I might even win prizes for “Best Behaviour” or “Hardest Working”. To which all I can say is yuck. I’d rather have order marks and be led astray! I can’t imagine not being friends with Annie. Even Mum admits that there is nothing malicious about her. She may have these wild and wacky ideas that get us into trouble, but she is warm, and funny, and generous, and is always making me laugh.

Last term she gave me this card. It was really beautiful, all decorated with little teensy pictures of flowers and animals that she’d done herself.

Inside it said:

TWELVE TODAY!

HIP HIP HOORAY!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

“What’s this for?” I said.

Annie beamed and replied, “For your birthday.”

But my birthday wasn’t for another whole week! I couldn’t believe that my very best friend in all the world had forgotten when my birthday was.

“It’s not till the end of the month,” I said. “Twenty-eighth of April!”

“I know,” said Annie. “But I wanted you to have it now. I’ll do you another one for your real birthday!”

“You’re mad,” I said. “Who gives people birthday cards when it’s not their birthday?”

Annie giggled and said, “I do!” And then she said that maybe it was an unbirthday card, and she started singing “Happy unbirthday to you, happy unbirthday to you, happy unbirthday, dear Me-gan, happy unbirthday to you!”

I put my hands over my ears and begged her to stop. Annie has a voice like a screech owl. Really painful! Not that mine is much better.

Mum says it sounds like a gnat, buzzing to itself in a bottle. But it is not as loud as Annie’s. And I wasn’t the one singing happy unbirthday!

“I’m going to give you a really good birthday present,” said Annie. “A really good one.”

I said, “What?”

Annie said she hadn’t yet decided, and even if she had she wouldn’t tell me. “But it’s going to be something you’ll really, really like!”

“What I would really really like,” I said, “is the latest Harriet Chance.”

I’m sure I don’t need to tell anyone who Harriet Chance is. She is just my all-time mega favourite author is all! Mine and about fifty million others. But I am her number-one fan! I have read almost every single book she’s ever written. Which is a lot of books. Fifty-one, to be exact; I looked it up on one of the computers in our school library. Thirty-four of them are on the shelf in my bedroom. I call them my Harriet Chance Collection. I couldn’t wait to get my hands on the latest one!