Among Others

I found Deirdre and gave her the soap box. I hadn’t wrapped it because I hadn’t thought to buy wrapping paper, but I put it in a pretty bag from the shop where I bought the scarves and things. She didn’t open it, but she thanked me very nicely. She gave me a thin wrapped present. It also feels like a book. I wonder what on earth it could be? I’ll have to read it and say I like it whatever it is.

Then it was all down to waiting for cars. Some girls weren’t being picked up until this evening, poor dabs, but Daniel came for me just at one, not the first, but quite early in the process. Everyone was rushing about and shrieking even worse than normal. I’m sure he thought it was Bedlam.

Daniel drove me back to the Old Hall in time for tea—very dry mince pies, almost as bad as school food. His sisters were delighted about Scott winning the cup. They opened a bottle of champagne to celebrate. I thought it was horrible, and the bubbles got up my nose. I’d had it before, at Cousin Nicola’s wedding, and I didn’t like it then either. Daniel offered to mix mine with orange juice and make something called a Buck’s Fizz, but I declined. If there was one thing that was going to make it worse it was horrible orange juice. Really, I only like to drink water. Why do people have such a problem with that? It comes out of the tap for free.

It’s the solstice, the shortest day. After today the darkness starts to roll back a bit. I won’t be sorry.

It’s nice to have a door I can shut and a bit of privacy. I went to bed early. I thought about thinking about Wim while I masturbated, because that breathless feeling is definitely sexual, but it felt intrusive, as well as hard to imagine. There’s also the Ruthie thing, which, whatever the ins and outs of it, gets in the way. So I just thought about Lessa and F’lar and Nicholas in the sea. It’s funny that Triton has so much sex in it but is so unerotic. And—because I’m still thinking about connections between them—there’s sex in The Dispossessed too, but not the sort that makes you feel breathless. I wonder why that is? Is there a way Fowles wrote Nicholas in the sea that’s essentially different from the way Delany wrote Bron and the Spike having exhibition sex? I think there is, but I don’t know what it is.

Saturday 22nd December 1979

The aunts took me shopping in Shrewsbury. They wanted me to get something nice for Daniel. I told them I’d already bought him The Mote in God’s Eye, but they just laughed and said they were sure he’d like it. They bought him—in my name—a charcoal-grey jacket with lots of pockets. It looks like the kind of thing he wears, but honestly I’d never have bought it, and he’ll know that. At least I got some wrapping paper. They took me for lunch in a posh department store called Owen Owens. The food was overcooked and slimy.

When we got home, I offered to make scones, in as deferential and polite a way as I could. They really didn’t want me to, I could see that, but I can’t quite see why. I can cook, I’ve been able to cook for years. I can cook a lot better than they can. They can’t think it’s beneath me, because they do it themselves. Maybe they don’t want to let me into their kitchen, but I wouldn’t mess it up.

I hardly saw Daniel today. He was working at something. I’ve borrowed a great pile of his books and am working my way through them. I wish the light in here was better.

I don’t think I am like other people. I mean on some deep fundamental level. It’s not just being half a twin and reading a lot and seeing fairies. It’s not just being outside when they’re all inside. I used to be inside. I think there’s a way I stand aside and look backwards at things when they’re happening which isn’t normal. It’s a thing you need to do for doing magic. But as I’m not going to do any magic, it’s rather wasted.

Sunday 23rd December 1979

Church. The aunts inspected me when I got up as if I’d be on display, and one of them suggested that I should find something a little smarter. I was wearing a navy blue skirt and a pale blue t-shirt, with my school coat on top. It wasn’t a cold day, though it was raining. I thought I was fine. I gave in though, and went up and put on a grey pullover. I don’t have many clothes that aren’t uniform. I left most of my clothes when I ran away, obviously.

Apart from the inspection, church was normal enough. St. Mark’s is a nice old stone church, with gothic arches and a crusader tomb that’s probably one of their ancestors, but I didn’t go and look. It was an English service, as I’d expect, and a normal enough Advent sermon. There was a crib set up in the church already, and the hymns were carols. The vicar talked to us nicely afterwards, and they introduced me as Daniel’s daughter. Daniel wasn’t there. I wonder why not?