This story follows Anne of the Island chapter for chapter. There are approximately 40 chapters in this book so each year will cover ten chapters, starting at the first year and ending at the fourth.

REDMOND DIARIES -THE FIRST YEAR

This is dedicated to my loyal band of sisters -you know who you are- when I write this I am thinking of you!

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CHAPTER I -The Shadow of Change

Friday, August 21st, 1883.

On the porch of my beloved Green Gables, amongst the bounty of Avonlea, within the pearl of Abegweit, cradled upon the glittering sea.

Dearest of Diaries,

You bright little book with your crisp white pages smelling fresh as a pillowcase hung out in the sun. I have the best news to tell and you mustn't be envious. I know when I discovered you at Lawson's on Tuesday (poor thing you were, squashed under the almanacs) I promised you alone should be the keeper of my secrets when I went away to Redmond. And rest assured whatever friends I make during my four years away ~FOUR YEARS~ I cannot imagine a day that I don't turn to you.

If you should doubt my love then note how I address you with a capital letter. Doesn't it look so much better that way? Though perhaps I should think of a proper name. Not a romantic, dreamy name, of course. I couldn't be telling my deepest secrets to an Aurelia ~as glittering as your gilded edges. Or an Esmeralda ~in honour of the lucent green you wear. No, you will need a more dependable name for you are to be my absolute rock. Though I shan't call you Peter. Not because I have an abhorrence of boys (though Davy Keith might sometimes think otherwise.) I happen to be friends with many nice boys, and one who is very nice. Well, nice is not quite the right word ~but I can't bear to cross out anything on my first page because it would seem such sacrilege. Besides he is nice and a very good chum.

It is only if I called you Peter I should forever be thinking of Mrs Peter Sloane and I would rather admit that my hair isn't actually auburn than tolerate that. To come to you, Diary, in my hour of bitterest need or exulted delight only to think of Sloanes. You can't know what that means exactly, and may better understand if I say that Sloanishness is to my billowing thoughts what a goat is to that crisp white pillowcase. Perhaps not a goat, more a bog. Yes! A bog that sticks to your kidskin boots and the lacy trim of your best summer gown. Now that is Sloanishness. Not that they can help their boggy ways, and in many ways can a bog be very useful. Not that I can think of an instant where they might be so, but still...

If I seem muddled it is simply because I am. When Marilla declared that I dust off my ambitions and hie me to Redmond I felt she had handed me the moon and I could not walk for soaring. That was when I had a whole summer to drink in and now my cup is almost empty. Now I am hurtling back to earth, filled with sinking thoughts about leaving my home, my schoolhouse, my Diana, my Island. I couldn't bring myself to write in you and have been waiting for that spark of delight to ignite this very first page. For as Reverend Allen always says~

'You must begin as you mean to go on, and go on as you began'.

It occurs to me I might have filled you with my future fancies. Yet my thoughts would keep turning to the only people who were coming to Redmond with me; Charlie Sloane (that epitome of Sloanishness) and Gilbert Blythe, who is that very nice chum I mentioned (though nice is not the word exactly.) When you leave Eden the first thing you must do is find yourself a safe place to fall, and when I think of Gilbert safe is not the word that springs to mind. So where to fall? Because make no mistake I will fall. I have never lost the knack of it in much the way I have never lost the knack for growing red hair. And when I'm all alone and on my knees and every strand on my head glows vermillion who should I turn to but you?

Now Diary, I want you to remember that as I tell you my news. Goodness, what a winding path I took to come to it.

I had a letter from Priscilla Grant today writing to say she is coming to Redmond after all! To know she will be there with me is to look upon the darkest cloud and see not silver but gold. She has already found us rooms at a boarding house close to the college though could not tell me more. Whereupon have been building my airy castle ~or at least a cosy den~ with a friendly fire, a window seat, and a pine scented air to lull me when I am longing for home. And as much as I will depend on you dearest Diary, I have to admit that sharing this adventure with a real, live girl ~especially a honey like Priss~ makes the bitter pill of leaving so much easier to swallow.

I have been on eggshells about her coming for the longest time. I am sure it was that and not anything else ~as I said we are good chums and he is very ? Well, whatever the word that eludes me I am sure as the sun will rise and Ruby Gillis will marry before the year is out, this scattery feeling will finally stop now Priscilla's father has finally consented. Why Mr Grant vacillated for so long... But that is forgotten now. Now I shall send him a Christmas card every year, the expensive ones made of thick creamy card and hand coloured scenes. Now they are nice.

I will not say that Gilbert isn't, but therein lies the problem because I am beginning to think he means to be more than nice. And it's going to ruin everything. For proof please note that ever since he put his hand on mine this afternoon I haven't been able to write properly. (Which Diary, if you could look at yourself you would sadly attest to.)

He is the brightest boy I know, not only in smarts but in heart and deed. Yet sometimes he can be so clod headed. Bogs and clods, you see why I have need of you. Tell me true, Diary, if a young man inquires as to your thoughts (was there ever a more dangerous question?) and you reply that you are afraid to speak for fear that all the beauty we had been admiring would vanish like a broken silence, should he not conclude that it was not the time for talk?

That is unfair for he never said a word after that but let his hand do the talking. And didn't I have something to say about that! A babbling stream of nonsense poured forth at such a rate I am sure Marilla will be proved right and I won't have breath to cool my porridge.

Why must he do this now, when we are about to embark on our long cherished dream? If he should touch my hand like that again I shall fail in the first term. Handwriting is rather essential I've heard. I credit him with spurring me on to unimagined heights of accomplishment, I doubt I would have set my sights on Redmond if I didn't have Gilbert Blythe always nipping at my elbow. Now it seems he would rather tuck his arm around it.

And now I have an enormous blob of ink on the page and no blotter to hand. I should have crossed out nice when I had the chance!

… … …

August 21st, 1883, Sloane House, Sloane Lane, Avonlea, P.E.I

Weather: mild, slight sou' west breeze

Time: 8:12pm

Ate: Porridge with stewed prunes and Jersey milk; cold ham, cold potatoes and slaw; cold ham, boiled potatoes and slaw, and cold strawberry pie for afters; Jersey milk. Also sundry soft fruit and five peppermints (Lawson's not Blair's)

Good evening diary,

1) After perusal of previous entries have discovered I have yet to request fourth vest from Mother. She will have to knit in smartish fashion as I will need it packed post haste. I think a medium brown will be suitable to match my eyes, my hair, my shoes, my trousers and all my ties. Except my grey tie. But I have the grey vest for that.

2) Make inquiries as to the cost of Diana Barry's betrothal ring. It appears modest and Fred Wright is not the sort to be extravagant over trinkets, which is convenient because it means I shan't have to fork out more than necessary. If it pleases Diana as much as it appears too, she does rub her finger upon it overly much -will make further inquiries as to whether I should look into reinforcing the setting (extra cost?)- then by rights it should please her friend. Look into possibility of discovering which gem would be preferred. (Discreetly).

3) Purchase more diaries for college this week. Left it too late last year and was most vexed to discover the Hargraves brand had sold out. The binding on this one is second rate and still regret losses of May 28-June 2.

4) Have hair cut before the A.V.I.S. Farewell Party next week. Anne Shirley is to be given a copy of Shakespeare as a thank you (!) Am still cut up about being voted down 22-3 about my suggestion of a recipe booklet. Not only would it have cost everyone less but there is sure to be a copy of that playwright's works at Redmond library which Anne could read for free. Whereas the recipe book will stand her in good stead forever. Have also heard that she is not the cook nor seamstress Marilla Cuthbert is (possible to remedy?) See below:

4a) Look into Domestic Sciences at Redmond and persuade Anne to take one or two classes? (Also discreetly)

5) Learn a passage of Shakespeare by heart by the time of the Party -to recite with an improvised air. No doubt Blythe has memorised every play. Look into sonnets which are also shorter.

Respectfully, C. Sloane

… … …

Friday, August 21st, 1883; Allwinds, Avonlea

Greetings Diary,

Before we begin you should know I am writing this now to settle a matter of conscience rather than a matter of need.

Josiah Allen, a fine fellow and an excellent minister, called me to him after his final service last Sunday, all stern mouth and laughing eyes -a look I shall benefit the learning of if I ever become a doctor. And if I am honest would have preferred its learning far more than what he gave me, which is, of course, this book.

He believes that in these hectic years ahead I will not have much time for reflection, which I believe was his polite way of saying church. In any case he thought you/ this book should remedy my moral decline to some degree, and to some degree I feel I should live up to Mr Allen's expectations.

Thus my entry in you/ this book-

Already this won't do. There are too many variables and uncertainties in my life as it is. Well, only one -but such a one. The universe may be described as one while containing infinite mysteries as can never be discovered. At all accounts on the question of address when I consider the word 'diary' the first words that come to mind are:

airy, arid, dray, yard, raid, aid, air, day, and dry, though I find myself drawn to dairy, that, or Ida. Somehow I cannot imagine confiding to an Ida. And if I think of dairy I will only start thinking of a tall glass of milky white coolness and then nothing will ever get writ. Accordingly this book is relegated to notebook and in this let me note:

Do get Father's assurance that Domino isn't loaned to Andrew Fletcher's youngest while I'm at Redmond. The poor horse will want breaking in all over again if Pippa-Fay gets her hands on him.

Do confirm whether Mr Sadler needs help clearing the back field. Every penny counts.

Do ensure that the Pye's two votes and the Sloane one does not, for reasons that only Pyes or Sloanes could demonstrate, prevail over the other twenty-two votes. I know Anne will adore that volume of Shakespeare, and if Pyes and Sloanes should win the day I'll just have to dig up Sandler's entire farm in order to get it for her. Besides it won't hurt to build up a little more -football season beckons.

Do persuade Mother to hunt out more gooseberries. I could live on her preserves and a hunk of bread and dread the weeks ahead being made to gnaw on the sweaty haunch of ham the Sloanes are curing for Charlie. If he insists on hanging it in our room I shall have no recourse but to hide all his brown ties.

Do not, no matter what, no matter if it's on fire, no matter if it's the only thing that reaches for me in a roiling sea, DO NOT put my hand on Anne's.

EVER EVER AGAIN.

… … …

Green Gables, the wee sma's

Dearest,

I have just thought of the sweetest little name for you, contained within your own good self no less. Henceforth you shall be Ida! Such a capable, hard working name to accompany me on my many labours.

Don't mind the pencil, I can't be doing with ink at this hour.

Goodnight, Ida!

… … …

I haven't highlighted the phrases taken from chapter one, but there are plenty -you could play spot the quote perhaps! Or maybe I'm the only one who finds that fun...