Replying to mail.

Yesterday I found a letter sent to my father, opened. It had been read and put back, but no one is owning up to it. I suspect Norman wouldn’t have done it, but I don’t know about the other two. For their own reasons they have too much curiosity.

I couldn’t prove that it definitely was Samuel or not, so I called a house meeting to lay down general rules for the house. It felt like a sit-com.

For those that are staying, or rather, for the duration of their stay, they need to start providing some food, start respecting privacy – especially since the living room is now my bedroom, leave the TV remote alone, stop using the phone all the time, and give me some money for bills, and maybe rent if this keeps going.

I said to Norman afterwards that most of it didn’t apply to him – I’m relying on him to keep track of the bills for me. He didn’t say much in reply.

We ate lunch in silence, and I tried to get out of the house for the evening. Mr. Cobb said Cobber was out with Jo again. Fuzz was with his girlfriend. Top and Pele went to answerphone. I even tried to call Miranda, since she’d said to call round any time – but her line was engaged.

Eventually I tracked down Top, but Mrs Toper was enforcing the laws of school-night. We hung around for a few hours and then she kicked me out. It was too miserable to stay outside, so I snuck back into the house and hid in the study overnight.

This morning, no one had much to say still. I’d crept out at dawn and walked in the rain until I was wet through, but no one said anything.

It’s possible they all read the letter while I was out, so I had no choice now but to read it myself. It was not what I expected.

Fold,

Everything is lost. You have brought upon us the death of magic. That you dared to disregard all others bears out our judgement on you, and now others will doubtless share our efforts for reprisal.
In truth, we had not considered you to be so powerful nor so rash, but we did not doubt your ambition and arrogance. You claimed command over that which you did not create, and in your disdain you have destroyed us.
That we did not deal with you forty years ago, when your appetites were diverted by your witch, we must now regret. We realise the root of the ambition which consumes you, but your actions are unforgivable.
This will not go unpunished.

R.K.

I had planned to trick Samuel into revealing he knew the contents of the letter, but all such scheming was put aside. Only Samuel knows enough to explain what the letter means. It sounds as though they (and who are they?) blame my father for what has happened. On this, at least, Samuel is sure that they are wrong – he had no motive, and would have taken precautions to prevent any harm to himself.

The letter refers back to when my father was a teenager, and I suppose the witch it refers to must be my mother, but Samuel doesn’t know about those times. Nor does he know who R.K. might be, or who they speak for. Nor does he know what reprisals they might take.

The world of magic, he told me, has always been full of rivalry, secrecy and viciousness.