Among Others

said. He winced.
    I had brought a Twelfth Night cake with me. I made it and Auntie Teg iced it. There was no direct and deliberate magic in it, except the thought of the Three Kings, and T. S. Eliot’s poem about them, but just the fact that we’d made it with her bowls and spoons and our hands made it magically real. I suppose the sisters noticed that, because they produced their own, and said I should take mine to school and give slices to all my friends. In school, it’s going to practically glow with magic. I didn’t say that. I ate their sawdust cake and smiled and tried being Nice Niece for all it’s worth. I made out that I was terribly excited to be going back to school and longing to know what the other girls got for Christmas.
    It occurred to me sitting there eating tea and smiling so much my face felt sore, that they haven’t tried to do anything to me magically. I mean the earrings were an attempt, I suppose, but they tried to use their authority as adults and their physical ability to drive me to the shop and so on, they didn’t try to coerce me magically, or make it so I had always wanted earrings or anything. I wonder how much they know and how they learned it. Did they learn it from the fairies? Or from someone who learned it from the fairies? Theoretically, I could teach someone who had never seen a fairy all the magic that I know.
    I was thinking about the Jurassic fairies in between reading Four Quartets , and I wondered if fairies are a sentient manifestation of the magical interconnectedness of the world. I remember once in Birmingham, when I was running away, I saw a fairy standing on the corner of the street. It was raining, and the pavement was wet and shiny, and there he was, looking quite unconcerned. I went up to him, he saw me, nodded and vanished. I saw that just where he was there was some grass growing through a crack in the pavement.
    S UNDAY 6 TH J ANUARY 1980
    I always forget how loud school is. My ears are ringing.
    I read The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy in bed last night. I intended to read it quickly to be able to thank Deirdre for it, but it turns out to be hilarious and also wickedly clever, so I could thank her sincerely, because I’d never in a million years have picked it up for myself, as it looks like total tosh. I wonder if the book group have read it?
    What the other girls got for Christmas, notes for a Nice Niece to report: the richest ones got Sony Walkmans. They couldn’t bring them back to school, of course, because we’re forbidden music. Moira and Leah and Nasreen couldn’t believe that, they thought it the worst deprivation of all. They live with the radio on. Sony Walkmans are apparently very portable cassette tape players with headphones that fasten to your belt, so you can listen to a tape while walking along. I admit that is quite nifty, even if their choice of music might not be mine. Lots of them got music, even if they didn’t get a Walkman, lots of them mentioned records and tapes. Lorraine got a skateboard, and her brothers taught her how to use it. It’s apparently almost as good as skiing. Other popular presents include clothes, perfume, make-up kits with little mirrors in the lid—also banned in school, but some of them smuggled in anyway—and soap-on-a-rope, which makes me like mine a little less.
    Deirdre admired my new walking stick. She asked if it was Irish. I said no, Welsh, which it is, and she said it must be a Celtic thing. I just agreed. She was glad I’d liked the book, and I was glad I really had. She was pleased with her soap set, or so she said.
    I gave the cake to the kitchen and told them to give slices to all of Lower VC. It’s a big cake, and I could see that if they cut it thinly there ought to be enough. I didn’t care if people didn’t eat it. In fact, when it was handed round after supper, most people did eat it, though a few of them looked at me cautiously when they did. My thoughts about those kings bringing gold and frankincense and myrrh and the warning about Herod aren’t going to hurt them, but I can’t tell them that. Sharon gave her slice to Deirdre. I don’t know what Jews think about Jesus. Do they think he was just a weird kid that kings happened to go up to with presents and who mistakenly thought he was the Messiah? Or do they think he’s just a myth? I can’t ask Sharon, but I could ask Sam. Deirdre found the bean, in Shagger’s slice, and was thrilled to bits. The king bean and the