Mum says I’m not well, she wants to send me away. She even took me to the doctor; he knocked on my chest, just like you knock on a door and made me cough. And breathe. I breathe all the time, sometimes I breathe very hard, like when I run or play hopscotch with Lucy and Jenny. Lucy is my best friend ever. Jenny is my best friend too, but not like Lucy, I like Lucy better, she can’t run fast and we play together nicely, Mum says.
The doctor waggled his head when he finished knocking on my chest and my back. I like him, his hands are warm and he gives me a sweetie. We’ll try to get her into the next group, he said, six weeks of sea air will do her good.
Six weeks, that’s forever. I think it must be a very long time, because when Mum and I told Miss Speer, she also waggled her head a bit and said, she will miss most of the summer term then. Miss Speer is my teacher, she is very, very old, she has her hair all scraped back, with a bun in the back and lots of grips and when she smiles her face goes all crinkly. She is really lovely. Except when she has to leave the room and she makes me stand in front of the class and write down the names of naughty children on the blackboard. I don’t like that. But Miss Speer says I must do it, you must do your duty, she says. I wish she would pick someone else sometimes. Even if Katy and Marianne are naughty I never write their names on the blackboard. I only pretend. I go round the back and I scrape the chalk over the blackboard so it sounds like I’m writing, but I’m not really. When Miss Speer comes back she always asks me who was naughty and why there are no names on the blackboard. I say that nobody was naughty and that everybody read their books and practised writing.
I can tell she doesn’t believe me.
Miss Speer says it’s all right for me to be sent away and breathe the sea air; I think it must be very special air, Mum says it will stop me coughing. Mum says I’m lucky, other children don’t get to go. Perhaps if I tried very hard to stop coughing they won’t send me away.
So dearest Friko - are you Eva? The picture of you in your avatar looks quite similar in body posture and facial features . . . I hope it is you, then I won't have to wait for the next instalment to find out if little Eva survives! Now I will be wondering which is your real name . . . Friko or Eva . . . or am I just concocting all sorts of stories in my head?
ReplyDeleteYou write beautifully. It was a delight to read.
Hi Friko
ReplyDeleteI am also asking myself if Eva is your good self. In any event, I'm looking forward to the next installment. There will be more.....won't there?
Eva is a lovely name. It is my darling Mum's name, in fact. You are a gifted writer--as is she.
ReplyDeleteSame thing. You are a wonderful writer and have some great stories to tell. Keep on writing.
ReplyDeleteQMM
Very convincing child voice.
ReplyDeleteI think you were very brave, Eva, becaue I can hear the fear in your voice and thoughts. To be away from home, friends, and even school must be very sad. xxox
ReplyDeleteThoughts after reading, kept me awake at two in the morning - a deep bow from me in respect of your writing.
ReplyDeleteHow delightful! Very well written...looking forward to part 2! (No pressure...)
ReplyDeleteAh, you write so beautifully that we are ALL Eva.
ReplyDeleteAloha, Friend!
Comfort Spiral
I am wondering, like everyone else, if you are Eva. She sure looks like you... So beautifully told! Hugs, Silke
ReplyDeleteLove the photo, no matter who it is. Can't wait to hear more from Eva.
ReplyDeleteOh the discomfort of a promised (threatened?) treat that one doesn't want. This little girl knows that whatever is about to happen for her own good may be an unwelcome treat indeed.
ReplyDeleteBeautifully written Friko. Look forward to the next installment. A x
ReplyDeleteBeautifully captures the writing of a child Friko. In England they used to have "Fresh Air Societies" which organised for chidlren from cities to be sent to the seaside for thier health too.
ReplyDeleteI am now intrigued, who is Eva?
ReplyDeleteI say "ditto!" to all of these posts! And, I love love love the photo... Your writing is very good, and yes, I would read a whole, entire, complete...BOOK!
ReplyDeleteEva's voice is very convincing - and that's a wonderful photo too!
ReplyDeleteLike the others, I am wondering what comes next. I'm hoping Eva will have fun at the beach. Or have an adventure. See a water baby. Get to know a naturalist. Learn to swim. All that.
ReplyDeleteHi Everybody
ReplyDeleteThank you all so much for your comments.
For once I won't answer you all individually, because you all have such similarly kind words for me and little Eva. Of course, just like the scraper and the little girl in the reminiscences, Eva existed; I knew her well, very well .
Yes, there will be more, but if you are hoping for excitement she will disappoint you.
Friko, Thank you for stopping by and saying Hello. I'm enjoying your blog.
ReplyDeleteYes, the possibilities are endless - six weeks, that is an eternity! The interest is building nicely.
ReplyDeleteI've been unable to get you through blogs I follow on my blog but then connected with you through 20thcenturywoman's blog. Yes, it's a perfect little girl's voice. You are a wonderful writer.
ReplyDeleteI loved this piece and would definitely want to know more of Eva and her life. This was just so nicely voiced without excessive sentimentality
ReplyDeleteThank you Bruce, Dave, Karin and Argent, more kind people.
ReplyDeleteEverybody: - I never thought that little Eva's adventures could be of interest to anybody. I am amazed!
hello friko - never mind the teacher in me (!), the little boy who remembers times like this is enthralled by the telling of this moment. exquisite writing - and i'm not marking it, i'm telling you my feelings!!!!! thanks for inviting me friko. more please!! steven
ReplyDeleteYour blogs bring history to life (quite recent history, of course, in this case!!) - lovely photo.
ReplyDeletesteven - glad you could make it and glad you like it.
ReplyDeleteTwiglet - Of course!