Among Others

always going to be doing this stuff?” he asked.
    “I don’t know,” I said. “I always have. But I’m less use now. And I think—I think children might be better at it because there are fewer shades of grey.”
    “I could help,” he said.
    “I’ll see. If I think you could help, I’ll let you know and you can rush down then.”
    He settled for that, thank goodness.
    We walked back across the fields to the Old Hall. There’s a footpath, which Daniel had shown me on the map, and which was easy to find, all except for one bit where a sign had been taken down. It’s all boring fields and crops around here.
    The aunts were very nice to Wim, in a revoltingly patronizing way. They asked him what his father does. I was rather surprised to discover that he’s a farmer. Wim isn’t the way I imagine a farmer’s son at all. His mother works part time cooking at the hospital. He has two younger sisters, eight and six, called Katrina and Daisy. I hadn’t heard any of this, while he knows everything about my peculiar family. I knew I talked too much!
    The food was awful, heavy fruitcake, dry scones, watery tea and, because it was High Tea, dry slices of ham. The bread was good, Daniel brought it back from Shrewsbury.
    They did not attempt any magic on Wim, I’m sure I would have noticed. They approved of him, and of me being with him. It was normal, which was what they wanted from me. Nice Niece would have had a boyfriend, and if he wouldn’t be exactly like Wim, Wim would do. As long as I was going to grow up and go away and not rock their world, they could put up with me. They weren’t evil, after all, they were just odd in a very English way.
    I went to the station with Daniel to drive Wim back. “Remember, phone every day, and if you need me, I’ll come straight down. I can be there in three and a half hours,” he said. It’s so sweet of him, really it is. I’ll see him again in just over a week.
    S UNDAY 17 TH F EBRUARY 1980
    On the train.
    Inverted World is weird. I’m not sure it’s even science fiction. It doesn’t make sense in the end. To begin with, I thought I really liked it, but now I’m not sure at all.
    Auntie Teg is meeting me in Cardiff station. But if she doesn’t, I’m fine. I’ve got six pounds seventy-two. There’s a way that money is freedom, but it isn’t money, it’s that money stands for having a choice. I think that’s what Heinlein meant.
    This train line skims along the Welsh border all the way. One day I must go to North Wales, or even over the Welsh border Wim says is only a couple of miles from Oswestry. It’s marked on my map, now I know. I wish they taught us maps in geography instead of stupid Glaciation all the time. Though I suppose Glaciation helps me see the landscape, or at least where the glaciers have been down it. In some parts of the world the glaciers came so often the mountains were worn down to stubs and everything is like a flat lake bottom except with plugs sticking up where volcanic cores of mountains were left. That would be cool to see, but I’m glad it didn’t happen here. I love the mountains the way they are.
    Sweeping past Abergavenny (and over the border into Wales) there’s a sudden rush of primroses along the embankment. I must remember to tell Grampar. The daffodils will be out in Cardiff, well in advance of St. David’s Day.
    I’m adding this in Auntie Teg’s flat, just before bed.
    We went up to see Grampar for visiting time. To my horror, when we got there, Auntie Flossie was there, which would have been all right, but with her was Auntie Gwennie, one of my least favourite people in the world. There’s not much that’s worse than a ward full of senile and dying old men, but there she was. Auntie Gwennie knows nothing about tact, and nothing about kindness. She’s rude and annoying and prides herself on speaking her mind. She’s eighty-two, but it isn’t because she’s old and impatient that she does it. Gramma used to say she was the same when she was six years old.
    “So, why have you walked out on Liz?” was Auntie Gwennie’s greeting to me.
    “Because she’s insane and impossible to live with,” I said. You have to stand up to her, or she walks all over you. “What were the family doing thinking it was a reasonable place for me to live?”
    “Humph. And how are you enjoying living with your good-for-nothing father?”
    “I don’t see much of him, I’m away at school,” I said, which I admit was a bit of a