Who should bequeath a diary in which intimate secrets coexist with stories about family treasures? Daughters? What if she doesn’t understand the extravagant actions of her parent? Granddaughter? You risk getting strange looks from your blood. It was decided that the diary, and with it all the family secrets, would be inherited by the great-granddaughter, and if there were a whole crowd of direct heirs, then the eldest great-granddaughter. No sooner said than done, and Mrs. Matilda bequeaths her multi-volume diary to little Justina.

It would seem that it couldn’t be easier, read your great-grandmother’s diary, find the treasure and live happily ever after. But no, not only is the diary written in disgusting handwriting and unimaginable green ink, but also Lady History intervenes every now and then, preventing her great-grandmother’s scribbles from being deciphered. Either a war will break out, then a child will be born, or your dear aunt will decide to become a shark in the gambling business. In short, you have to read casually, stirring the soup with one hand, and directing restless relatives with the other. And the manuscript, as luck would have it, is devilishly fascinating: the intrigues and murders of a hundred years ago are more engrossing than the quirks of modern life. But modern life also throws up riddle after riddle.