Afterwards we ate Christmas cake, though I just crumbled mine on my plate because it would be a really obvious thing to magic, because it has all those connections to everything. Anyway I don’t like any fruitcake except Auntie Bessie’s. Then I followed Daniel into his study and got him talking about the books he’d sent me, especially Dune. Arrakis is such a great world. You could feel it was real, with the different cultures. You don’t see culture clash often enough in SF, and it’s very interesting. Paul going into the desert to the Fremen is someone going right into another culture, and there are secrets both ways. Daniel was quite lively talking about this, and though he’d poured a glass of whisky, he only sipped it. He was smoking the whole time, of course. He asked me what I’d been reading and about the book club and what I’d like to borrow, and all the time I didn’t say “Do you know your sisters are witches?” and he didn’t say “So, why did you freak out about the earring thing?” We weren’t saying those things so loudly you could almost hear them.
Then I got him on the subject of Sam, which is the most human he ever is. They must not be able to mess with Sam, maybe because of his religion? But Sam is a stable point for Daniel, a sane point. The more I was talking to him the more I was wondering how much they control him, what things he isn’t able to think about, what things make him reach for the bottle. They have a tame brother. They have a man to manage the estate. That’s when I thought that what they want is a Nice Niece. Because if they’re not evil witches who want to take over the world—they’re not insane, they’re not like Liz—if they’re pretty much what they seem to be, three women who haven’t grown up properly living together and maybe using a bit of magic to arrange their lives the way they want, then that makes the most sense.
“Are we going to see Sam?” I asked.
“There isn’t really time if you’ve told your Auntie Teg that you’ll go down on Thursday,” he said.
“We could do what we did last time,” I said. “We could do it tomorrow.”
“They wouldn’t want me to be away on Boxing Day,” he said, and I could see that they wouldn’t. They have their Boxing Day rituals like their Christmas Day ones. They’re his sisters and his employers and they have a magic hold on him; how can I compete?
I can look at Daniel now. I feel sorry for him. He’s as kind as he knows how to be, as he can be in the limits of what he is, and he can’t see the walls they’ve built around him. No wonder it was my mother he married, really. It would have to be someone else who had magic to get him away from them. Magic and sex, and maybe it took the getting pregnant too, because that would make a strong strong connection, yuck. No wonder they look so prune faced in the photographs. It didn’t take them long to get him back though.
Then today, which was sunny and frosty, we all went for a walk on the estate. It was very feudal. I’ve never seen anything like it. Class, yes, class is everywhere, but not people touching their caps. We had lunch in a little old pub built literally into the side of a hill, called the Farrier’s Arms. The lunch was great. I had steak and kidney pie which came in a bowl, with chips and a feeble winter salad. It was still the best meal I’ve had for ages. There were a lot of people there they knew, people kept coming over and saying hello. Then after we came back, lots of those people came around for mince pies and tea. They let me hand round mince pies. I played Nice Niece as well as I could, said I was enjoying school and coming third in the class. Several of the women had been to Arlinghurst, but only one of them asked about the Cup. I realised that meeting all those people was good, because they were the aunts’ friends. If their friends have met me, Daniel’s daughter, I can’t just disappear without embarrassing them.
After they’d all gone, I offered to wash dishes, but they wouldn’t let me. They’re determined to keep me out of the kitchen. Daniel retreated into his study, and I retreated up here, supposedly to bed.
To Cardiff tomorrow, by train. I hope Auntie Teg meets me. She didn’t reply to my letter. If not, I’ll get the bus up the valley. I have the key to Grampar’s house. I have to talk to Glorfindel, not that getting straight answers from fairies is the easiest thing in the world. But I have to try.
THURSDAY 27TH DECEMBER 1979
On the train, in the corner of a little carriage I have to myself, at least so far. The countryside is frosted as if it has been sprinkled with icing sugar. The sun peeps out of the clouds every so often as the train rushes along, and when we go around a bend I can see the Welsh mountains in the distance, and coming closer. I love the train. Sitting here I feel connected to the last time I sat here, and the train to London too. It is in-between, suspended; and in rapid motion towards and away from, it is also poised between. There’s a magic in that, not a magic you can work, a magic that’s just there, giving a little colour and exhilaration to everything.