Paul Theroux - The Family Arsenal

‘So you know how beautiful it is.’

Brodie screwed up her face, pretending a look of comic disgust, seeming to swallow something foul.

‘Don’t you?’ said Lady Arrow.

Brodie was shaking her head. She said, ‘Yuck!’

Then she was running across the humpy top of the hill, her hair flying like a pennant as she ducked around trees, growing smaller. Lady Arrow watched: she was out of reach, running away as children always did, making no allowance for the very slow. The afternoon mist and low sky made a great brown canvas of the park on which Brodie was an elusive flag of paint among the trees, a brushstroke. Lady Arrow leaned into the steep path and trudged towards the darting figure. She stopped several times to get her breath and felt almost defeated knowing she was chasing her in the most hopeless way and could only catch her if the girl allowed it.

In the living room of Mortimer Lodge, Araba was saying, ‘But she’s not one of your prisoners, is she?’

‘I thought you’d like her.’

‘She’s spoiled and she’s too young.’ Araba sipped her mug of coffee. The mug was chipped, her jeans were stained with paint and bleach, and she sat on the arm of the sofa with a kind of awkward arrogance, like a workman in a large strange house. ‘I’ve had it up here with these rich girls playing at politics.’

‘You must be joking,’ said Lady Arrow, and she laughed at the thought of Brodie being considered rich. But she was vindicated in her belief: Araba had taken the girl’s carelessness — poverty’s legacy — for freedom. She saw that Araba was annoyed and said, ‘She’s the real thing.’

‘I can’t stand her affectations. That blazer is a dead giveaway.’

‘She liberated it from a second-hand shop.’

‘Really, Susannah, you shouldn’t waste your time with girls like that. There are so many people who need attention — why pick on one of your own?’

‘So that’s why you’re being rude to her.’

‘She’s not my type.’

‘She’d be interested in your work.’

‘My work would scare the daylights out of her.’

Brodie entered the room holding McGravy’s dog. She said, ‘He thought he could get away from me, but I was too fast for him.’

‘Poldy’s got high blood pressure,’ said Araba. ‘Do be careful with him.’

‘How do you like Araba’s new house?’ said Lady Arrow.

‘Far out,’ said Brodie. ‘But ours is bigger, ain’t it? You can play hide and seek in ours.’

Lady Arrow saw Araba’s ears move in satisfaction. She said, ‘Brodie lives in a marvellous old house in Deptford with her friends.’

‘I imagine that must make your parents absolutely furious.’

‘My father run off when I was a baby,’ said Brodie. ‘And my mother, she don’t have a clue.’

Lady Arrow said, ‘I think Brodie would get on terribly well with your friend Anna, that pretty little Trot.’

‘We expelled her,’ said Araba.

‘They’re always expelling people,’ said Lady Arrow to Brodie. ‘They’re famous for it. It sounds such fun. I once thought of expelling Mrs Pount, but she’d be ever so sad if I did.’

‘It’s not funny,’ said Araba. ‘I was expelled myself not long ago.’

‘Who would do a thing like that?’ said Lady Arrow.

‘I can’t go into it — not in present company.’

The women were on chairs, facing each other across twenty feet of carpet, in the centre of which Brodie sat crosslegged, playing with the dog. She was like a bored child forced indoors by her aunts, who made an effort from time to time to include her in the conversation and who spoke with self-conscious care, knowing they had a young listener.

‘And how is Peter Pan? ’ said Lady Arrow. ‘They haven’t expelled you from that I hope.’

‘Rehearsals start in a few weeks,’ said Araba. ‘It’s a headache — I’ve got so many other things to do. I have to take lessons on the wire. It’s a complete bore, learning to fly.’

‘It sounds super,’ said Lady Arrow. ‘Did you hear that, my love — she’s learning to fly!’

‘When I was at the home,’ said Brodie, ‘they took us to see Peter Pan one Christmas.’

‘And did you like it?’ asked Lady Arrow.

‘The part with the pirates was pretty freaky,’ said Brodie. ‘I can’t remember the rest. I think it was too long.’

‘Your political affairs must take up a great deal of your time, Araba,’ said Lady Arrow turning away from Brodie.

‘The League? It’s the only thing that keeps me sane.’

‘How many members do you have?’

‘That’s a reporter’s question, Susannah. You know better than to ask that.’

‘I love secrets,’ said Lady Arrow. ‘I only wish I had some myself. Perhaps I do!’

‘How did you get into it?’ asked Brodie, holding the dog on her lap and letting him gnaw her wrist.

‘Historical necessity,’ said Araba. ‘It had to happen. You can’t ignore what’s going on around you. You take it for just so long and then something snaps.’

‘I never thought of it that way,’ said Brodie.

‘It can be a very humbling thing to know how much power you really have. I’m not talking about playing around with it, the political protest wank that only makes you feel good — that doesn’t change anything. No, I mean, when you realize that there are thousands, just like you —’

Brodie was shaking her head, laughing softly and stroking the dog.

‘I can see you’re not very impressed,’ said Araba. ‘But I’ll lend you a book if you like.’

‘I read one.’

‘And what did you think of it?’

‘Too long,’ said Brodie.

‘There speaks the voice of innocence — innocence is a form of laziness, isn’t it? The young and their all-purpose comments. I must remember that — it was too long!’

‘It’s probably a fair comment,’ said Lady Arrow. ‘I don’t know. I’m hopelessly out of my depth with political theory.’

Araba said, ‘I’m so sick of the young, I’m so tired of hearing about them and seeing them courted.’ She turned to Brodie and said crossly, ‘You don’t know anything, but if you listen you’ll see you have a part to play.’

‘No,’ said Brodie.

‘You might be surprised,’ said Araba.

Brodie said, ‘I could never play Peter Pan.’

‘Oh, Lord,’ said Lady Arrow. ‘Didn’t I tell you?’

‘It’s not that the book was boring,’ Brodie explained. ‘I liked the pirates. But the flying! I’d freak out on that wire. I’m afraid of heights.’

‘Tell her about the League,’ said Lady Arrow.

‘I don’t want to alarm her,’ said Araba.

‘She won’t be alarmed.’

‘Then she won’t understand.’

‘I’m stupid,’ said Brodie. ‘Right? That’s what you’re saying. I’m stupid — I don’t know nothing.’

Araba blushed slightly and said, ‘We’re mainly Trots, but some are outright anarchists or anarchosyndicalists. Are you with me?’

The dog barked. Brodie giggled and patted him.

‘It’s a grass-roots movement of workers, the only viable alternative to the existing power structure of hacks and exploiters.’ Araba got to her feet. ‘It’s a party committed to action on all fronts.’

‘I like parties,’ said Brodie.

‘She’s really quite passionate,’ said Lady Arrow.

‘Stuff your praise,’ said Araba. ‘We’re not part-timers. And I warn you we’re not joking. Any corrupt government is bound to fail — this one will, and when it does we’ll be there to take over.’

‘Then you’ll be the big shits,’ said Brodie.

‘No,’ said Araba, ‘because then we’ll hand it over to the people.’

‘The word “people” is so bald,’ said Lady Arrow. ‘ “People” — that’s what politicians say. Who are they, the people?’