| 7:05p |
20 March 1982
Viv,
It was unspeakably lovely to get a letter back so soon, darling! I wish that I could have returned the favour, but I had to have Rupert deliver a few more notes, and then the landlady came by, and then twenty other things happened that kept me from getting back to you immediately, you know how it is. But thank you very much for giving my poor little boy a rest and a treat, even with the long flight home he'd perked up considerably, I could tell.
You must really miss me horribly if you're willing to have Syd along for weeks! It's all right, lovey, I do want all my people to adore each other and I wish you liked him a teensy bit better, but you being so irresistably lovely you'd have the whole of mankind at your feet if you wanted it, and I know you'd never try to take him from me even if you did want him, you're too sweet for that, but still. Still. Anyway, if you do keep the place you can rest assured we'll come for a visit of epic proportions, or at least as long as Syd can get off work, especially if you don't wreck the sailboat by then.
I don't want to be in London, by the way, at least not particularly. It's too close to the centre of things, which is nice for shopping when I've the time and money but not much fun for anything else, especially with the war just over and everything still a bit unheaval-y. Yes, there was great celebration and stupid amounts of fireworks and such right after, and I do prefer what it's like now to how it was before, but there's still an awful lot of distrust. Why, have you heard about the accusations about poor Ludo Bagman? Thankfully they’ve died down for the most part, but still, that poor man. And I was talking to my friend Gemma the other day and she said her uncle Tertius, who's a healer, was put under the Imperius Curse for months and made to do things and now, no one believes him. The authorities accepted the explanation as he's got no real priors since he was a teenager and those were minor, and anyway they don't have the time to check out everything. But his friends and neighbours… Not that I can really blame them - it's a bit terrifying to think of the people who could be getting away scot-free with the same excuse or similar when really they meant every bit of it and were possessed of as many faculties as they ever have at the time it happened.
I suppose that's pretty close to what Auntie and Uncle are going through, though. Poor things. They have always been tiresome, but they still don't deserve this... especially considering how much they used to praise Gunther. We're not hearing much of that these days, obviously.
Anyway. The point of all that is that although I don't like London much, I unfortunately need to be here, to make sure Syd eats well and to support the family in times of need and all that rot. I must say the only part of it I enjoy is keeping Syd alive, and if not for him I'd probably have run mad long ago. But I can't very well leave my dearest love, can I? (My dearest male love, that is - you, as always, are my dearest friendly female love, forever and ever, and no less dear because I'm not with you.) And I can’t very well leave the family either, Merlin alone knows why.
Dardanos engaged! DO tell! I hope you’ve worked out who the girl is by your next letter, as I doubt I’d be able to find the answer here. Extended-family gossip is severely limited on the interesting relationship matter, alas. And then, it’s Dardanos. It’s hard to imagine him interested in anyone, even if someone had claimed they saw it happen no one would believe them.
Along those lines, I’m sorry to say I haven’t been able to discover anything about their finances – yet, that is. I will be visiting Great-Aunt Millie next week, and she has the news on just about everyone so I’ll update you after that.
Oh, but I did happen across Kitty in a shop this morning, and I told her about the pin. It was a little disappointing, though, she just pursed her lips and glanced at Markus and said that it was your decision what you did with your things but that she herself would never consider giving away something that had been a gift. I’d rather hoped she’d throw things. Oh well.
Let’s see, what else? I’m growing some lovely tulips… I wish I could send you one, but they’re terribly fragile and anyways I don’t entirely trust Rupert not to drop packages still. He’s very good with letters, but anything larger… anyways, they’re the scarlet-and-gold kind and very nice. The daffodils aren’t working nearly as well and I can’t for the life of me imagine why but it’s quite vexing.
All right, all right – for the sake of our invisible audience, Viviana is not pregnant, which is good because if either of us becomes pregnant soon I’d rather it was me. Merlin, can you imagine? Daddy’s head would explode. It would be even worse than the theatre – which yes, I know isn’t all that bad these days but Mummy and Daddy have some very peculiar and old-fashioned ideas about women who go into the arts, love. Men are fine, but women must be brazenly masculine hussies, and try as I might I can’t convince them that it’s more likely to be the other way around these days.
I always thought the idea of trusting someone as far as you could throw them was strange. It’s fine for untrustworthy large people, but with house-elves and the like you really can throw them quite far if you try (and I think it might be a good idea with that one).
And with that I really should be off to bed, so I’ll close and let Rupert have a nice fly – he’s been shut up inside most of the evening, so I’m sure he’ll enjoy it. Oh! But first, you didn’t hurt your ankle more on that dreadful stair-slide, did you? I assume you didn’t since you didn’t mention it, but really, that was horribly inconsiderate even for Jasper. I should like to give him a very stern, almost motherly talking-to, or possibly just to make his hair stand on end for a week.
All right, love, I really am exhausted so I’ll leave you here. Do tell me what you decide to call the boring-named cake fellow, will you?
All my love,
Cassie |