Believing.

Angela asked me how long Samuel was going to be allowed to stay.
She also asked if I was going to lie there all day.
I said I wasn’t sure to both questions.

Samuel went off again today. I gather he’s got a car. He came back in time for tea, rather politely. When he goes out he wears sunglasses, blocked in at the sides with little leatherette tabs. I think they’re meant for skiers.

Norman’s hardly spoken since Samuel arrived. He always seemed to like Angela‘s stories, but maybe only as stories. I think he knows himself that it’s time to go.

There was an odd meal, with the four of us sat in the living room, and then Samuel started talking. He took his glasses off so he could stare at us – and I realised how few people must see his eyes. He must have felt the need to intimidate me yesterday.

“How many people have been to the house since Halloween?”
“Nobody, apart from friends.”
“How many people have a key to the door?”
“Only me.”
“How many other people have stayed here?”
“Only Angela and Norman.”
“How well do you know them? Had you met them before your father died? Have you any reason to trust them?”

And then Angela began. She seems to have a genuine hatred for that man. She said something about Fascism which I didn’t follow. A lot of the time, people chuck the word fascist about because they know it’s pretty bad, but that’s a Hitler ‘n’ Holocaust specific brand of badness. I don’t know if most people know what fascism is. I don’t think it means much. Something else will replace it in the hierarchy of name-calling soon. Capitalist or Polluter are a bit too tie-dye and lentils. Fundamentalist maybe.

This is what I was thinking about while the girl who’s lost her demon argued with the man with blood red eyes. Then I got up and left.

I went to Cobber’s first, but while he let me in, he was with his girl and their hands were having one of those secondary conversations that let you know they’re not paying close attention to the verbal one. I left, without protest.

I ended up sat in Hillsborough Park, hoping no one too drunk would see me in the dark, and then came home when I could see they had all gone to bed.

I don’t have much choice now but to believe in magic. I wonder why I was so against the idea, since I’ve always wanted the world to be made that way. I suppose now you and I are on the same page.