Among Others

“Brill name. What’s it short for?”

“Morwenna,” I said.

Janine laughed. “That’s a bit of a mouthful. Is it Welsh?”

“Yes it is. It means a breaking wave.” Actually, literally it means white sea, but that’s what it must mean, that’s what white sea is, the foam on the breaking wave.

We stood there for a moment in amity but without anything to say. Then she said “I’m Christmas shopping. Only two weeks to go.”

“I haven’t bought anything yet!” I said, suddenly realising. “Are you buying everyone books?”

“Most of my family wouldn’t appreciate them,” she said. “But I thought I might buy the Earthsea books for Diane, after all the talk about them the other night.”

“Don’t you have them already?” I asked.

“Nope, read them out of the kids’ library,” she said. “Besides, I’ve had to make a rule about the others never touching my stuff, so I’m not about to start lending them books just when I’ve got it into their heads.”

“I could buy my father a book,” I said. “I certainly have to buy him something. But it’s so hard to know what he has.”

“What does he like?” Janine asked.

“Oh, SF,” I said.

“Is that how you started liking it?”

“No. I didn’t meet him until quite a short time ago, and I’ve been reading it for ages.”

“You didn’t meet your—” she began, and then stopped and looked away. She shifted her bags to her other hand, and when she spoke it was in a falsely casual tone. “Oh, you mean divorce?”

“Yes,” I said, though in fact the actual divorce is only now going through. Daniel had disappeared without bothering with any of the legalities.

“It’s nice that he likes SF,” Janine said, diplomatically.

“Yes. It gives us something to talk about. It’s so weird meeting someone who is your father and a stranger at the same time.” This was the first time I’d said anything about this to anyone.

“You must have been really small.”

“Just a baby really,” I said.

“My parents are getting divorced,” she said, very quietly, looking not at me but at the shelves. “It’s awful. They were fighting all the time, and now Dad’s living at Gran’s and Mum cries into the soup.”

“Maybe they’ll make it up,” I said, uncomfortably.

“That’s what I’m hoping. Dad’s agreed to come home for Christmas Day, and I’m hoping being in the family, seeing us all, Christmas, he’ll realise he loves her and not Doreen.”

“Who’s Doreen?”

“She’s a girl that works on the petrol pumps in his garage,” Janine said. “She’s his girlfriend. She’s only twenty-two.”

“I really hope he decides to come back,” I said. “Look, why don’t we go next door and sit down and get a cup of tea? We can come back in here and buy books afterwards.”

“Okay,” Janine agreed.

We sat in the window where I usually sat. There’s never anyone in there on a Saturday morning, I don’t know how they keep going. I ordered tea and honey buns for both of us, and two honey buns to take back to school for me and Deirdre tomorrow. “How did you find out about the book club?” I asked.

“Pete told me about it. Pete’s the dark-haired boy, you must have seen him. He used to be my boyfriend, sort of, but we sort of broke up, only we’re still friends.” She poured herself tea and stirred in sugar.

“Are you going out with the other one now?”

Janine snorted. “Hugh? You’re kidding. He’s shorter than I am, and he’s only fifteen. He’s still in the fourth form.”

“How old are you?” I asked.

“Sixteen. How about you?”

“Oh, I’m only fifteen too, and in what a sensible school would call the fourth form, but which Arlinghurst calls the lower fifth.” I fussed with the tea and made mine mostly hot water. It’s not so bad like that.

“I thought you were older,” she said. “You certainly have read a lot for fifteen.”

“It’s about all I have done,” I said. “Did Pete get you reading SF?”

“Yes, though I always liked things like that. He used to lend me books, well, he still does, and he took me to the club. My mum says SF is childish and for boys, but she’s just wrong about that. I tried to get her to read The Left Hand of Darkness, but well, she doesn’t read much and when she does she likes a nice romance. I’ve just found one for her called The Kissing Gate. Just her kind of thing.” She sighed at the thought of it.

“How many of you are there?” I asked.

“Sixteen people I have to buy presents for,” she said promptly. “Three sisters, Mum and Dad, four grandparents, two aunties and one uncle and four cousins, one of them a baby. I’ve got him a teddy. How about you?”

I hesitated. “It’s all so different this year. My grandfather, my Auntie Teg, another aunt, three cousins, my father, his sisters I suppose—I don’t know what I can get for them.”

“What about your mum?” she asked.

“I’m not buying her anything,” I said, fiercely.

“Like that, is it?” she said, though I had no idea what she imagined it was like.

“Oh, and there’s Sam,” I said, thinking of him belatedly. “Except Sam’s Jewish, so I don’t know if a Christmas present would be quite the thing.”

“Who’s Sam?” she asked, through a mouthful of honey bun.

“My father’s father,” I said.