This is mad. No, really. Arianwen’s been here all night and most of yesterday afternoon, and she swears she’s going to go to services anyway this morning (she and Leffoy are both mad that way, when they couldn’t go to church they used to sit and pray together), and the rest of us have been in here since midnight. It’s been so mad that actually sitting down and writing this feels like a rest, in that I don’t have to talk to anyone or listen to anyone.

Wood threw that party he wasn’t supposed to. He’s lost his badge for sure, and his sister Caroline’s been brought up on charges, or will be after she gets out of here. One thing’s for sure, she’ll never be a constable now. She’ll be lucky to get a job as a housekeeper. The pub caught fire and Bainbridge is crowing all over the place about how she always knew the servitors weren’t trustworthy. I wish I could get away with sedating her.

Someone beat the hell out of Hubert Crockford. I’ve tried a few times to talk to him, about how whatever his parents were trying to do, it wasn’t the real revolution—and about how he needs to just keep his head down awhile—but of course he would never listen to me, nor to Rachel. I wish I knew who did it. He doesn’t deserve it, but one of the Avalon girls went missing and since there’s been so much trouble and everyone thinks he’s a traitor…I’m sure he was blamed for it. Damn it. Even Arianwen believes it.

Popescu’s doing something in the Great Hall with Nutter; Miss Peverell is helping them. Goyle and Sir Lucian Casaubon went up with Headmaster Mathers to have a long and unpleasant chat with Bettony about an hour ago, because so many people told us they’d complained to Bettony about Brown’s problems (Brown’s not back, I don’t know what happened to her) and he didn’t take it seriously. They came back down without Bettony, and Goyle seemed even grimmer than usual, which I didn’t think possible.

I think...I think Professor Bettony is dead. I won’t tell anyone, because I’m not sure I understood what they said, but they didn’t even take Lindsey up to verify the cause of death, which means that it must have been obvious. I hope this is over soon. I really do.

Arianwen and I have obviously made things up since the last time I wrote in here, though I’m still annoyed about the way she treated Annie at the beginning of term and even more so that she still insists she didn’t have a choice about it. I wonder what Leffoy would have done if one of the Pendrys had ended up in his ward back then? I bet he and Priscilla had a long talk about that too.

Anyhow. Lindsey’s on a tear. She let Aurélien Jeannot out and while it’s never pleasant to look after someone who thinks your first name is Plumb and your last name is Blossom whenever you aren’t actively taking care of him, I don’t think the danger has passed. We’ve put Lucy to bed and she’s asleep for now. Arianwen and I are going to try to explain about everything later tonight. I tried to tell Lindsey before that Arianwen might laugh at Lucy when Lucy does something stupid, but she really does know the difference between funny and not—I hope she understands that, but I think she’s too angry that we’ve been holding things back. I’d try and explain about Arianwen and Leffoy, but Lindsey doesn’t want to hear anyone’s side of that but Corinne’s and of course Corinne never cared about Leffoy as much as Lindsey likes to think she did. After all, I suppose she must know a Leffoy would never really marry her. I suppose. I really don’t know what it’s supposed to mean to be a Leffoy, except that they hate the Pendrys.)

I’m glad Will’s on the Squad now, even if I do know whose doing it is. I hated not being able to tell him things.

I’m furious with Arianwen, and Bessie and Mary aren’t much happier. Arianwen has just informed us that she can’t do anything with us at school if Annie’s coming, because her mother’s a Leffoy. We pointed out that she hates her mother, and she said that’s true, but she doesn’t hate her aunt, and Annie’s father’s libelled her aunt. When I asked her how long this was going to last she said that it would probably last until Annie’s father died. I don’t understand her at all!

Furthermore, she asked me to write to Annie about it and let her know that it isn’t personal. I don’t…I can’t do that, if she wants someone to do that, she’ll have to do it herself. I asked her how this was going to affect the Sunday dances and she told me not at all, that she and Annie can both work with me and Siobhan without having to interact very much, but for goodness’ sake, Siobhan and I are not the post!

Annie is one of the few friends she has that’s going to accept her with Gresham, doesn’t she realise that? Her brother’s already given her a ration of shite about it even though he was hanging all over Bobby Macmillan, and I shudder to think how her cousin Florrie is going to react. Arianwen says I’m being completely unreasonable and acting like this was something she wants to do and is choosing to do. I don’t understand how she can say she’s got no choice! It’s not like her aunt is going to be present at school. “No,” she says, “but Lew and Florrie and Charis and Bella and Melina will, and they’ll tell her.” What kind of family is that?

Cynthia Vieira doesn’t like me, so I was going to volunteer to work the night of the dance and earn points with Corinne and Leffoy. But Gage said he’d be disappointed if I didn’t go. And then Hubert Crockford, one of the few comrades I have at school, invited me to a party he and Ramsden were throwing afterward. I didn’t even know he and Ramsden were friends. Hubert’s a good sport. I thought it might be fun. But it was unbelievably dismal. There wasn’t really any food. I know the Vieiras stuffed us like sausages, but you have to have food around when people are drinking, or else they just go mad. Rachel and Alden were making chips and frying up bangers in the kitchen, but there wasn’t really enough for the number of people who came, and Hubert and Ramsden didn’t ask people to bring anything, which is of course the way one deals with rationing, not that people like Ramsden ever have to worry about that. As for the liquor, all they provided was Dashwood’s absinthe. Which isn’t what most of the people there were used to, and which went pretty quickly, so people broke into the parents’ liquor cabinet. And there was nothing to mix it with except water, and nobody bothered.

Now I know Hubert’s broke all the time, but I had no idea that Ramsden, whose folks are rich, was that cheap. There was loads of hashish, if you could afford it, but Gage and I just left and went out for a drink. If we’ve got to buy our own drinks, we’re going to do it someplace we don’t have to listen to Wood and his older sister playing ‘Minnie the Moocher’ at top volume over and over. We apparently left just in time; it turned into a Roman orgy. And Kyteler’s other house is right across the street, so he and his mistress broke it up, and Doctora Chattox-Kyteler had to go to the constables’ office and bail people out in the middle of the night.

Now everyone’s cross. I’m not sure how Addie is going to react to learning that Miss Walsh and Miss Mahoney will be staying here until school starts, and again during the hols. I bet she’s cross, too. Arianwen finally got her claws into Gresham, though, and good for her. I’m trying to convince the good Doctora that she doesn’t need to worry so much about that. I did point out that Arianwen was at least smart enough not to end up in gaol last night!

I had high hopes for this journal. I was going to write about all the interesting things that happened to me when I finally got to spend some real time in Londinium. I forgot that when you’re busy leading an interesting life, there isn’t much time to write it all down. I’ve developed a working theory: most diaries are either brief or boring.

#1 thing I’ve learned this summer: moral and ethical issues aside? I’m still glad I’m not an aristocrat of any variety, especially not the arcane variety. Money would make my life easier, but social justice would make everyone’s life easier, and I wouldn’t trade places with Arianwen for a million pounds without interest. Not even if you matched it with a million pounds for the IWW.

It’s going to be off having Lindsey as our teacher this autumn. I wonder why they chose her. Corinne’s a lot smarter. But after the chaos of the summer I’m almost looking forward to school—and to not being asked by reporters for confidential comments on the disintegrating marriage of my hosts.