Among Others

“He’s your grandfather then,” she said.

“Sort of,” I said.

“Are you Jewish, then?”

“No. You have to have a Jewish mother to be Jewish, apparently.”

“I don’t think Jewish people celebrate Christmas. Probably better just to get him something really nice when it’s his birthday,” she advised.

I nodded. “I really ought to buy something for Miss Carroll too because she’s been really good to me, taking me to the book club and getting books for me specially.”

“Is that who you were with? She was very quiet. Who is she?”

“She’s the school librarian. She won’t be coming with me normally, I can come on the bus and Greg’s going to take me home.”

Janine considered this, chewing. “You should get something for Greg too, then,” she said. “Greg’s easy. He likes dark chocolate. You could get him some Black Magic or something.”

“I don’t suppose a book would be quite right for a librarian,” I said.

“Talk about coals to Newcastle,” she said, and laughed. “You should probably get chocolates for your Miss Carroll too. I expect you’ve got lots of money.”

“I do, just at the moment,” I said, and then I realised what she’d said. “I’m not—I know I go to Arlinghurst, but that doesn’t mean I’m rich. The opposite. My father’s paying for me to go there, or really his sisters are. They’re rich, and stuck up too I think. My family, my own family, are from South Wales and they’re all teachers.”

“Why are your aunties sending you to Arlinghurst then?”

“I really don’t feel as if my father’s relations are my family,” I said. “It feels really weird when you call them my aunties, or Sam my grandfather.” I bit my honey bun and felt the honey squirt on my tongue. “They’re paying for me to go away to school so they can get rid of me, I think. They know Daniel’s stuck with me now, and this way they don’t have to see me very much. But they want me there for Christmas, which I don’t understand. I could go to Auntie Teg’s. But they don’t want me to.”

“I never thought of boarding schools as dumping grounds before,” she said, licking honey off her lip.

“That’s just what it is,” I said. “I hate it. But I don’t have any choice.”

“You could leave next year when you’re sixteen,” she said. “You could get a job.”

“I’ve thought of that. But I want to go to university, and how can I do that without any qualifications?”

She shrugged. “You could do A Levels part time. That’s what Wim’s doing.”

“Who’s Wim?” I asked.

“Wim’s the long-haired bastard who was sitting opposite you on Tuesday night. He got thrown out of school, our school, Fitzalan, and now he’s working in Spitals and finishing his A Levels at the college.”

“He’s a bastard?” I asked, disappointed. He was so gorgeous, it didn’t seem possible.

She lowered her voice, though there was nobody else in earshot. “Yes he is. I saw you looking at him, and I agree he’s easy on the eyes, but he’s a double-dyed bastard. He got thrown out of school for getting a girl pregnant, and they say she had to have an abortion. And that’s what I broke up with Pete over, because he’s still friends with Wim after all that, and he said it was Ruthie’s fault. That’s the girl, Ruthie Brackett.”

“What’s she like?”

“Nice enough. Not as clever as Wim, not interested in poetry and books and that kind of thing. I don’t know her very well. But I do know that when a girl falls pregnant, you don’t only blame her.”

“Good point,” I said. I had finished my honey bun without noticing. “I think it was very moral of you to break up with Pete over that.”

“We’re still friends,” she said quickly. “But I wasn’t going to keep going out with him if that’s what he thinks.”

“How old is Wim?” I asked.

“Seventeen. His birthday’s in March and he’ll turn eighteen then. You keep away from him.”

“I will. Not that he’d look at me anyway,” I added.

“He might think you don’t know. None of the girls who do know are going to spend any time with him. And anyway, he was looking at you last week. You’re not so bad. If you let your hair grow a bit and tried some mascara maybe. But not for Wim!”

I was about to tease her back, when I remembered about the magic, and that maybe I’d inadvertantly made all these things happen so there’d be a place for me. The honey bun felt like iron in my stomach and I couldn’t talk naturally.

Janine didn’t notice. “Come on, I’ll help you find some presents if you like,” she said.

We went back into the bookshop, and then up the hill to a little shop where I bought pretty Indian silk scarves in different colours for Anthea, Dorothy and Frederica, and a dressing gown with a dragon on it for Auntie Teg, and a little brass elephant paperweight for Grampar. Then we went to British Home Stores and Janine helped me buy a bra—she was very knowledgeable about it. I couldn’t bear some of them with seams and lace, but we managed to find a sports bra with a plain cup and no frills. Sports is a laugh. She didn’t ask me about the stick at all, not a word, as if it was normal. I don’t know if that’s tact or magic or just obliviousness.