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?
He was there for lunch, overcooked roast beef with oversalted potatoes and carrots. I wish they’d let me cook. I can understand why they wouldn’t want me to cook Sunday dinner right off, but they could have let me make some scones. Three more days. This is as bad as school. Worse, because no book club and no library to disappear into.
I went for a walk after lunch, despite the rain and my leg, which actually isn’t too bad today, just grumbling, not screaming. It’s just like around school, not real countryside, just farms and fields and roads, no wild, no ruins and not a fairy in sight. I can’t think why anyone would choose to live here.
MONDAY 24TH DECEMBER 1979, CHRISTMAS EVE