“They agreed about the library,” I said.
“They did.” He smiled at me. He’s going a bit bald on top, but he’s not very old, and he has a lovely smile.
“And it would be very educational,” I went on.
“It certainly would,” he agreed. “I don’t know if you could get a signature by this Tuesday, when we’re discussing Le Guin, but the Tuesday after we’re discussing Robert Silverberg, who I’ve noticed you seem to like.”
I wrote down the information about it and collected my books and went and sat in the bakery cafe so happy I could sing. A karass, or the start of one! Oh I hope I can get there this Tuesday! I only haven’t ordered any Le Guin from the library because I’ve read it all already, or at least I think so. I’d have a lot to say about her. A karass! Epic! I could sing with delight.
Sunday 2nd December 1979
Miss Carroll has signed the form for me to leave school for the book club! She says I’d have to have all my prep done ahead, but that’s no trouble. She said they’d see it would be no trouble from my marks, but my marks had better not drop because of the book club. I said they certainly wouldn’t. She asked if I’d liked the Tey, and I said I had enjoyed it a lot, which is true.
Carpenter says in the Inklings book that Lewis meant Aslan to be Jesus. I can sort of see it, but all the same it feels like a betrayal. It feels like allegory. No wonder Tolkien was cross. I’d have been cross too. I also feel tricked, because I didn’t notice all this time. Sometimes I’m so stupid—but Aslan was always so much himself. I don’t know what I think about Jesus, but I know what I think about Aslan.
I wrote to Grampar and Auntie Teg, telling them about the book club. And I wrote to Daniel begging him to sign the book club thing. I’m pretty sure he will. I also told him about the Aslan/Jesus conflation thing because it would be interesting to see what he thinks, and I asked him again about going home for Christmas. I told Grampar I’d try to.
I had a conversation with Gill, finally. It was pouring buckets, so people were doing dancing in the hall instead of games this afternoon, and she was hanging back instead of going to change afterwards, while I was coming out of the prep room where I’d been writing letters. She didn’t say anything directly, but I said “Gill, I don’t know if I’ve got the wrong idea here, but I wanted to say I like you as a friend, but I’m not interested in a physical relationship with you.”
“You said you didn’t like boys,” she said.
I had too, I remembered it. “That doesn’t mean I like girls,” I said. “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it, I think most people are interested in both, but I don’t seem to be. Sorry. I expect I’m just peculiar.”
This was all in the doorway to the prep room, and someone came up behind me and pushed past then, and Gill just waved and ran off to change. I hope it’s all right. It does make things so complicated!
Monday 3rd December 1979
Letter from Daniel with another ten pounds and saying they want me at the Old Hall for Christmas but I can go down to South Wales for a few days afterwards. Feh. Why do they want me there? What good am I to them? I’d much rather go and help Auntie Teg with Grampar, especially if he really can come out for the day. They’ve never shown any sign at the Old Hall of anything but wanting to be rid of me as soon as they can. Daniel, well, I don’t know what to think about him. I’m grateful he took me out of the Children’s Home, but school isn’t all that much better. He seems to want a connection, after not having one all that time. But I’m sure he and his sisters would have a better time if I wasn’t there. And what on earth can I give them? I can’t just give them a box of chocolates if I’m actually going to be there on Christmas Day. It’ll be excruciating. Oh well, at least I can go down to South Wales afterwards I suppose.
Tuesday 4th December 1979
Of course no letter from Daniel with the signed form. It’s unfair to even expect it, because the post would hardly have had time to get the form there and back. But it’s my karass, and it’s happening without me tonight, and they’re going to be talking about The Dispossessed, so I can’t help feeling cross. I suppose it’s been happening every Tuesday all the time I’ve been here, but I didn’t know, and now I do. That is unless the magic made it happen, instead of just making him ask me. The more I think about magic, what it does and how it influences things, the less I think I ought to mess with it.
School is being particularly tedious. I’m used to the girls calling me names, but some of them have started singing a little song about “Jake the Peg” when I pass by, or just humming it if there are teachers near. They want to infuriate me, so I just ignore them, which is much easier to do outwardly than inwardly. They do the same to Deirdre with “Danny Boy” and sometimes reduce her to tears. The awful thing about Deirdre is that she’s such a cliche. She’s Irish, and she’s not the brightest bulb in the box. Karen gave her a bite of a muesli bar and she said it tasted like uncooked Christmas tree. She meant to say cake, of course, because that is what they taste like, but now everyone makes jokes about them cooking Christmas trees in Ireland. I had to laugh when I heard it, just because it’s so surreal. I mean she laughed herself. That wasn’t unkind. It’s going on and on about it that’s unkind, and of course that’s what they’re doing, because they see it hurts her. I have to make sure they don’t see that I care about the stupid “Jake the Peg with his extra leg” nonsense.
I still can’t forgive Lewis for his allegory. I understand now why Tolkien said in the prologue that he hated them. You can’t take something that’s itself and make it stand for something else. Or you can, but you shouldn’t push it. If I try to think of it as a retelling of the gospels, that diminishes Narnia. I think I’m going to have trouble re-reading them without thinking about it. That’s so annoying! However, Carpenter says Lewis wrote some books directly about Christianity—overtly about it, I mean. Maybe I should try them. I have to say I feel horribly mixed up about religion. And RE is no help. We’re droning through the Journeys of Paul, and I’m reading my way slowly through the Bible. There are some good stories in it, in between all the tedium. But most of it is history, not so much theology, and I’d be very interested to know if Lewis says anything about fairies—because he has the maenads in Prince Caspian and they always remind me of fairies a bit. There’s nothing here but the Interplanetary books, but I’ll see if they have Mere Christianity in the town library, and if not, well, that’s what interlibrary loan is for.
Just as I was writing that, Miss Carroll came over.
“Has your father signed the form for the book club?” she asked.
“Not yet,” I said. “I’m sure he will, but there hasn’t been time yet.”
“If you like, I could take you tonight. If I’m there the whole time, in loco parentis, that would be all right. It would be like taking girls to the theatre. I’ve checked with Miss Ellis, and she says it would be fine.” She smiled at me.
“But do you want to go?” I asked. I can’t help being such an ungracious lump when people are nice to me. It isn’t what I mean, it just comes out before I think.
“It should be interesting,” she said.