Among Others

the book club and his astonishment when Greg thought it was a good idea.
    “Is this the first time you’ll have led a meeting?” I asked.
    “Yes. But Pete’s done it twice, and Janine’s done it once, and Wim’s done it several times.”
    “What did you do?” I asked Janine.
    “The Pern books. Did you know there’s a third one coming out soon? It’s called The White Dragon . I can’t wait.”
    “Do you like them?” I asked Hugh.
    He looked uncomfortable. “Sort of,” he said. “There were things that made me uncomfortable, in Dragonquest in particular. I love the world and the dragons.”
    “Perhaps they’re books that appeal more to girls,” I said.
    “No, Pete loves them,” Janine said. She stirred her tea, although it couldn’t need stirring.
    “You should get back together,” Hugh advised. “It’s silly the two of you breaking up over something Wim may or may not have done.”
    “He did,” Janine said.
    “We don’t have all the evidence,” Hugh said. “Wim refuses to talk about it, so we only have Ruthie’s side, and that not directly from Ruthie but garbled through what she supposedly told Andrea. That’s hearsay. You and Pete—”
    Janine was looking very cross, so I interrupted. “What books did Pete do? When he led the group I mean?”
    “The Flandry books, and Larry Niven,” Janine said.
    “And Wim did Dick and Delany,” Hugh put in.
    Delany! They’ve already done Delany without me, and of course it would have been Wim.
    “I think it’s better when we have one book, or one series of books. That way you can read them before the meeting and not get into a situation like Hugh last week,” Janine said.
    Hugh shook his head. “I agree actually, it makes it easier and more focused, but there is something nice about discussing all of an author. It works better for some than others.”
    I bought a set with soap and shampoo and a fluffy flannel in Boots for Deirdre, all matching and primrose yellow, tied up with a ribbon. I didn’t know if she’d get me anything, but she’d had a rotten time in the exams and these would be useful. I looked at Black Magic in Woolworths and decided to get Greg and Miss Carroll boxes of Continentals in Thorntons. They’re just much nicer. I bought a bag of toffee for Sam, in case I am going to see him. If I don’t I won’t send it, I’ll give it to Grampar along with the elephant.
    Then we went to Janine’s house. It was an ordinary little house, the sort of place you’d expect someone to live whose father owned a garage—modern, pebble-dashed, with a lawn in the front with one little tree in the middle. The only unusual thing about the outside was the fairy who was leaning against the tree. It was like a dog, apart from the wings. It looked at me almost insolently and then it disappeared. The others didn’t seem to see it at all.
    Inside, the sitting room seemed very cluttered, and full of her sisters, though there are only three of them. They were playing with Barbies and taking up the whole sofa and both chairs. The sideboard and mantelpiece were filled with ornaments. Her mother was in the kitchen, which was also very cluttered and messy. “I’m taking Mori and Hugh up to my room, all right?” Janine said.
    “All right,” her mother said, hardly even looking up from her ironing. She has lank ginger hair, quite different from Janine’s vibrant bush. The sisters are also gingery.
    We went upstairs. Janine’s door has a sign on it that says “Private, Keep Out, This Means You!” She held it open for us to indicate that it didn’t in fact mean us. Her room was a complete contrast to the rest of the house. All the other rooms were papered in fussy papers; hers was painted pale green. There were no ornaments or toys at all, only a bed with one faded and eyeless toy dog, and a bookshelf with all the books in rigidly alphabetical order. There was one chair, a wooden upright chair painted in a darker green than the walls, the same colour as the skirting board. The window had a blind in a very similar colour. There was a huge black office typewriter with a very small bedside table underneath it supporting it precariously.
    “Did you do this yourself?” I asked.
    “You bet,” Janine said, sitting on the bed. Hugh took the chair, and after a moment I sat beside her on the bed. “Actually Dad helped with the actual painting. But I designed it. I wanted something different.”
    “I wish I had a room like this,” I said. I