Among Others

said.
    “What did you say to her?”
    “Who?” I asked.
    “Little Miss Hitler, back in the cafe?”
    I snorted. “Her name’s Karen. I said obviously I couldn’t go to a disco, and then I just smiled. I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction.” We were coming down to the bookshop, and he stopped again.
    “Then just keep smiling. I won’t see Shirley again.”
    “I don’t care if you see Shirley, as long as I know about it,” I said. “… I think.” I was really clear on the theory of this from Heinlein, I wasn’t quite so sure about the practice.
    “She’s a moron,” he said, which was very reassuring. It’s nice to be wanted for something real.
    We crossed into Poacher’s Wood, and walked down to where the ruined walls are. The snowdrops were dead. There were leaves coming through, but no other flowers yet. The place was swarming with fairies, mostly gnarly treelike ones, who didn’t pay any attention to us. Wim could sort of see them, he said he could see them sideways. We sat on the wall for a while, looking at them. Then when we started to get up, he happened to brush against my walking stick, and made a choking sound. “Now I can really see them,” he said. He sat down again beside me, holding the stick on his lap. “Man,” he exclaimed, rather inadequately.
    Ages afterwards, after he’d been watching the fairies for a long time, I said it was time to go, and reached for my stick back. Without it he was back to only half-seeing them. “I wish I knew what they were,” he said, as we walked back up into town. “Could I have that stick? I mean, do you have another one of those?”
    “I do, but the other one is metal and hideous, and this one gives me strength. The fairies gave it to me.”
    “Maybe they gave it to you so I could see them,” he suggested. “All of those colours and shapes.” He sounded drunk. They were just fairies, and not even doing anything especially interesting.
    “Maybe,” I said. “I need it now, anyway.”
    He took my hand as we went through the trees.
    “I’m sorry about the dancing thing,” he said. “I don’t mean Shirley, I did that on purpose, I mean the actual dancing. I wasn’t thinking about that, and I wouldn’t want to make you feel bad about not being able to do it.”
    “That’s all right,” I said, though it wasn’t. My leg is about back to where it was before the traction wrecked it. I have good days and bad days. They said it was going to keep on being like that. Maybe the acupuncture will help, and maybe I can learn to do it myself, and that would help, but I’m not going to be dancing any time soon.
    It was almost time to catch the bus, so we walked on through town. “So, Tuesday night, Thursday afternoon and next Saturday? If that’s all that’s on offer, then I’ll take it,” he said.
    “Next weekend is half term,” I said. “All of next week is. So Saturday’s out.”
    “Are you going away?”
    “I’m going to spend one night in the Old Hall with Daniel, and then go down to Aberdare for a few days, to see Auntie Teg and my grandfather.”
    “And kill your mother?” he asked. “No, I know, but I could. That wouldn’t be against any ancient prohibitions.”
    “In the ancient prohibitions I’ve seen, I wouldn’t even be able to share a meal with someone who had killed my mother, whatever I thought of her,” I said, though I was mainly going from Mary Renault, and not any actual ancient prohibitions. Funny how nobody teaches ancient prohibitions any more. “Anyway, there’s no need.”
    “I could come down with you.”
    “Don’t be silly, where would you stay?” I asked. “Anyway, you have to work. I’ll see you when I come home.”
    “I’ll miss you,” he said, and kissed me very gently for a long time.
    Well, at least it isn’t boring.
    S UNDAY 10 TH F EBRUARY 1980
    There was a frost this morning. When I woke up and looked out of the window everything was crisply outlined in white. It had melted by the time we went to church.
    The sermon was all about giving thanks, and how we shouldn’t just skim through our blessings but choose two special things to give thanks for. So, mentally, when it was prayertime, I gave thanks for Wim and the interlibrary loan system.
    I wrote to Auntie Teg saying I’d be there next Sunday. I hadn’t bought a card for Grampar yesterday, or last week either, because Wim distracted me both times. I’ll take one with me.
    My new worry about Wim is that it’s