| 9:17p |
28 March 1982
Dear Cassie,
I am loath to admit to such a shocking occurrence, but there's simply no help for it. I must tell you: I am so bored.
How did that happen? I'm never bored. I'm not made to be bored, I'm made to be in motion, and yet here I am sitting down to write to you without a single thought in my head about what to tell you about except that I am so bored.
Let me tell you about being bored: at this lovely but unfortunately dull moment in time, I have nothing to do, no where to go, no one annoying me (the horrors are out visiting the neighbors, and they did ask me if I wanted to go with them, but I would rather be here and bored than out with them so I don't regret telling them no, not even a little), and I am not in pain in any way. I'm slightly worried that something annoying is about to happen (because it would at a moment like this, you know it would), but only slightly because the horrors are out and I saw the house elf polishing the silver, it looked positively engrossed in making sure every little bit of tarnish was eliminated -- and I can't think how anyone else could even get to this room to annoy me.
So unless the ceiling collapses on me, I think I'm safe.
But did I mention I am bored?
I wish you were here (not because I wish you were bored too, but because if you were here, of course I wouldn't be bored.) Or Sam! It's very inconvenient of him, he was supposed to be here yesterday at 3:00 (three o'clock precisely, he said), but he must have got lost or changed his mind or forgot he was coming to visit me or truly I don't know what, but something, because I waited for him all afternoon and he didn't come. So just before dinner I went down to the train station to make sure he wasn't there expecting me to pick him up, and when I'd finished chatting with the bloke in the window about the unfortunate scarcity of trains, and then admired pictures of his granddaughter (don't ask me how it got to that point, because I simply couldn't tell you) I decided to skip dinner at home (I'd been planning on having Sam around for comfort and I couldn't face the horrors without him).
So I went to the tea shoppe and picked up John and we went out to dinner. He found us a funny little restaurant down by the beach to eat at. He said it's an absolute zoo in summer, but it's not summer yet and we were the only ones in the little room where they put us -- us and three empty tables and a view of the surf, the waves coming in and the waves going out, fovever and ever amen. Of course, it was dark so we couldn't actually see them coming in, but we could still hear them when the wind was low. And there was a fire in the corner, so it was a cozy and very intimate and I enjoyed it very much, right up until the bill came.
I'd remembered half way though eating that I'd forgotten to bring any muggle money with me (the cab driver made a bit of a fuss but agreed I could pay him next time, and then I forgot about it again). But I thought I could get John to pay -- truly I thought he'd probably want to pay. He's such a delightfully in-charge sort of bloke, and in-charge sorts of blokes so often like to pay for things, and fix things, and generally make everything easy for me. That's why I like them so much.
But unfortunately, when the bill came it turned out that he didn't have enough money to pay for both of us, and I wasn't about to try to pay with gold coins (though really, you'd think they'd take them. Galleons are so much more like money than muggle pieces of paper, though I will admit that the paper is easier to fold up and tuck away somewhere.) So John went off to talk to the proprietor and I sat there feeling absolutely mortified, you simply can't imagine. He made some sort of arrangement, I don't know what, and when he came back he was angry. I could tell because he hardly said anything after that and his back was stiff and he almost wouldn't look at me while we were drinking our coffee, even though he was perfectly polite otherwise.
So when we were done, I steered him down to the beach and I coaxed him until he told me the real problem, which is that he doesn't have a job, and he's living with his sister and helping out at her tea shoppe a bit, and doing odd jobs around town, but she doesn't need that much help and no one needs many odd jobs, so he doesn't have much money. And he doesn't even have his own flat, he's sleeping on her couch. Poor bloke! I could tell he felt terrible about not having a job, because he's the sort that needs to do things.
And once he'd got over being angry, he seemed so defeated. So then of course I felt even worse than I had about the whole muddle about paying the bill, and I told him I was so sorry (which I was!) and that of course I'd pay for everything in the future, and that I needed a bunch of stuff done to my house (which I don't, at least not by a muggle, but he wasn't to know that).
And then he got angry again, I'm not at all sure why, and stormed off before I could coax him into being reasonable again. He said he wasn't a charity case, and he wouldn't have me feeling sorry for him. And I tried to tell him that I was only trying to help, but he wouldn't listen.
So then I was cross with him and I sat down and watched the ocean until he came back all stiff and proper and got me into the cab he'd brought so I wouldn't hurt my ankle more. But he still wouldn't talk to me. I told him we should have dinner again tomorrow and I would pay for everything, and he said NO in such a horrible way that I didn't dare say anything more at all. So I just let him help me into the cab and I came home. And Sam still wasn't there and Jasper wanted me to talk to him about money or something, I wasn't really listening, and I couldn't think so I threw a bunch of galleons at him (the ones I couldn't spend at the muggle restaurant) and escaped while he was ducking.
(Sooo satisfying, but I really can't afford to do that ever again.)
And then today I've been waiting for Sam and talking to some of the portraits and being bored and writing to you. I'm going to be extremely mad with Sam when he gets here, making me wait for him like this. If he doesn't show up soon, and with a good excuse, I shall go visit the solicitor's mother, and it will serve him right if I'm not here when he gets here and he has to make polite conversation with the horrors -- for hours!
If it was last year, I'd think something must have happened, and it would be horrible, but at least we don't have to worry about things like that any more. Or at least we're not supposed to have to worry about things like that any more, but I still wish Sam would show up soon.
Other than that...I'm sorry I messed up the parentheses in my last letter (and now I've gone back and made sure I didn't do it again, but if I missed any you'll just have to ignore it because I keep getting distracted when I try to count parentheses, I don't know how you do it). And I have been very careful about my ankle lately, although it's horribly tempting to think of hiring a mute Oriental instead of being careful -- but not a eunuch, I'd be forever feeling sorry for the poor thing! Oh dear, and I don't think they have them any more, at least I certainly hope not.
But if we do decide to go hiking in werewolf infested waters territory, I shall insist that you leave Syd behind with strict instructions to watch constantly to make sure you're not sending up a distress flare. I think you could learn to do that, if you don't know already. With the red sparkles? If not I'll bring a muggle one, I saw one in a shop once and it was dead cheap, so if I could only find that shop again, I'll be quite prepared! Or perhaps we can bring along a little donkey to carry things instead. I do think that would be fun.
As for what I can ask for from a man? (Yes, I know that was rhetorical, but that doesn't mean I can't answer, because I have the perfect answer.) He must make me laugh. And cry, but only a little, and only sometimes. And good tears. And he must know how to do crosswords, so that we can sit by the fire on a winter's night and I can do crosswords and ask him when I get stuck, and he'll always be able to tell me the answer. So domestic! But I can teach him everything else he'd need to know, if I thought he was worth it.
And... I know you don't blame me. Sometimes I blame myself. I'd like to be the good daughter, and I know you aren't exactly, but look at you and then look at me and tell me which of us actually belongs somewhere. With responsibilities and everything! Sometimes I admire you so much, Cassie, I could never do it, not if I had half a million years to work up to it. (So that's why I'm not writing Syd to tell him that you need a vacation. Because if I couldn't admire you, then who could I admire? (Only if you see something in my handwriting address to Syd, don't read it! It's very very secret! (But wait, you'd listen to Syd and you won't listen to me! Cassie!
I shall expect you in two weeks, it will probably be raining but I won't accept that as an excuse.
When you come we can go hunting for ghosts, but we can't name her Alice because actually the ghost was a disreputable looking he, if I didn't imagine him completely. I think perhaps I did, unless it's Dardanos getting to me. But I can't really remember it properly anymore, I've tried so much to prove myself right that now my mind is nothing but a blur on the subject.
But you know little Alice would win her grandparents' hearts immediately with her winning ways, if she were to exist. I can imagine her, I think she'd have blue eyes and such a sweet smile. I think I would crochet her little booties, so you must tell me in plenty of time so I can learn to crochet.
Cassie! Don't tease. You know Markus wouldn't have me any more. He says I behaved dreadfully, and I'm not in the least sorry. And even if he would have me, I'm not sure it was anything but...things were in such a pother during the war, weren't they? I don't know, I do like Markus, I think, but... (Though it is a lowering reflection to think of how many men there are in the world who want nothing to do with me. So I won't think about it. Moving on...!
Oh! That's all, except to say that I hope your headache has flown, and I hope everything is still bearable in London, and no one has been taxing you too much.
And Sam still isn't here. Bother that bloke!
As always,
Viv
P.S. If he ever gets here, No I shall not bring up the pasta incident, thank you very much (though I'm giggling just thinking of it, and thank you for that, I needed a good giggle). |