Doris Lessing - Doris Lessing

But she did feel she hadn't had her money's worth.

They agreed they would go back, to show solidarity with the others - if any demonstrators still remained. But it began to rain even harder. A real tropical deluge, if such cold rain deserved the name "tropical."

They returned to the station and, dispirited, to London. There they went to the pictures, and then, finding Faye and Roberta in the kitchen, they all swapped notes. Clearly, they - Jasper and Alice and Bert - would have done much better to have gone to the anti-professor demo, which had been a great success. About a thousand people, Faye said - Alice automatically corrected this to "six hundred." Mostly women, but quite a lot of men. They had jostled the professor badly, had nearly brought him down, had got him really rattled. "Well, that ought to give him pause for thought, at least," said Roberta happily, thinking of how she had shrieked he was a scummy sexist and in the pay of the fascists.

Even the Thatcher demonstration sounded effective, in retrospect. After all, quite a few had been arrested. Reggie and Mary had - of course! - a television in their room. They all went up, and crowded in, making jokes about the large bed, the tidy furniture, the carpets. They sat on the bed and watched the news. There was no mention of the fascist professor, but there was a brief scene of the demonstrators struggling with the police at the university. The three were disappointed that they did not appear on the screen. The newscaster said that at one point the police were afraid a bomb had been thrown. "It was an orange," screamed Alice, and they all laughed and jeered, and went down for more talk in the kitchen, taking with them four bottles of wine from a case of it that Reggie and Mary had under the dressing table.

"They won't mind," said Faye, laughing, but in a way that said they all knew they would mind very much.

Philip came in, but he was tired and went to bed.

The five sat up drinking and talking till late.

The demonstrations sounded better and better as the night wore on. They drank to the comrades in the police cells. Alice was sad she was not there - as it happened she had not been arrested for some time; she was beginning to feel she was not pulling her weight in the Struggle. But it was just as well, for on Monday Jasper and Bert were told the visas had gone through and the trip was on. They went off that afternoon.

Alice said, as they left, "See you in ten days."

She saw them glance at each other - yet again the ridiculous, insulting, perfectly obvious "secret" shared look that people used all the time. It came to her, stunningly, that they did not expect to be back in ten days.

She thought this all over carefully, slept on it, and then wrote to the address she had for Pat.

Bert and Jasper have gone off, she wrote. Why don't you come down for a day or two? Or, if you can't come, please write. Do you know anything about this trip? Did Bert say anything about not coming back in ten days?

This letter brought a card, "Ring me at nine o'clock Thursday or Friday. Much love, Pat." This "Much love" hurt Alice, and she wept a little.

When she heard Pat's bright, firm, likable voice, Alice pleaded, "Do come down, do, Pat."

"But I am short of money."

"I'll pay for your ticket. Do come."

Pat said she would, and Alice understood, from the rise in her own spirits, how little she felt at home with Faye and Roberta, how little she had in common with the respectable Reggie and Mary.

Pat came next day, and the two young women commandeered the sitting room and stayed there, gossiping, exchanging news. Pat had met people Alice knew, in the commune she now lived in. Alice had to tell about the anti-Thatcher demo. She also delicately mentioned the fascist professor, hoping for some kind of support from Pat in her own private thoughts. But on Pat's face came the helpless resentful look Alice half expected, and Pat reached for a cigarette and began to smoke furiously.

"You don't imagine it's any accident," she said, "that all this stuff about genetic differences is being peddled now!"

"Why?" asked Alice, timid but dogged. "You mean he's being paid to do it? Who? The CIA?"

Pat tossed her head angrily, blew out bitter clouds, and said vaguely, "Well, why not?"

Alice decided to leave it; no point in going on. Instead she asked Pat why she, Alice, had this impression that Bert and Jasper were not planning to come home at once. Pat sighed, and looked with unmistakable pity at her friend.

"They will be home, Alice," she said gently. "On the day appointed. But they think they won't be, do you see?"

Alice saw. In fact she had seen the moment Jasper had first mentioned it. But then she had blocked it off, for it was all so painfully ridiculous.

"Look, it's Ireland, all over again. They had it all worked out. They will say to the Intourist guide: 'Comrades, we want to speak to someone in authority.' "

"Oh, God," muttered Alice, ashamed. "Oh, no!"

"Oh, yes! Yes, yes! The Intourist guide will of course say at once, 'Whom would you like to see, comrades? Comrade Andropov?'

'Oh no, not really,' Jasper and Bert will say modestly. 'Someone less important will do for us.'"

Pat was laughing, but not happily, since she was mocking Bert; and Alice was suffering for Jasper.

"At once some very important comrade will appear, and say, 'Comrade Willis, Comrade Barnes? At your service!' Jasper and Bert will explain that they have decided to train as spies, preferably in Czechoslovakia or in Lithuania, where all the best spy schools are. The Russian will say, 'Of course, what a good idea! But it will take an hour or two to fix up. Just wait for my return, comrades.' "

Alice dubiously laughed, stopped laughing, and remarked, "Well, all right. But what about Comrade Andrew?"

"What about Comrade Andrew?"

"It's pretty casual with him, don't you think? I mean, he says to just anybody he fancies, how about a spot of training."

"He's not done too badly, who he's chosen."

"Bert?"

"Bert said no. But just imagine Bert actually under discipline somewhere. In some kind of structured situation. He has a lot of qualities, Bert has."

"Me?" enquired Alice, dubiously. "Are you going to say I need a structured situation?"

"No! I am certainly not. What you need is..."

"Oh, all right, I know. To be free of Jasper."

"Poor Alice," said Pat gently.

"Then poor Pat!"

"That, too!"

Alice put her head down on the arm of her chair, all energy gone out of her, as happened at those times when she was seeing Jasper clearly.

The two women stayed where they were for a few minutes, silent. Alice did not move; Pat smoked restlessly.

Alice said, "There's another thing, so many people knowing. What's to stop people from informing?"

"You mean, the police?"

"Yes."

"Well, who of us would?"

Alice allowed the faces of those in the know to pass before her. Sat straight up, eyes shut, looking at these mental portraits. Faye. Roberta. Bert. Jasper. Pat. Herself. Muriel. Caroline? Jocelin?

"I suppose not," she said. But she remained where she was, upright, looking. Now it was at the scene of her with Andrew after she had seen the... whatever it was at the bottom of the pit in the garden at 45. Pat did not know about that. Only she, Alice, knew.... Only she, Alice, knew because she had not told, would never tell, anyone else. She was reliable, she was. Because this was true, and because she had confidence in her absolute discretion, she felt confidence in Comrade Andrew.

"Yes, I think I agree with you," she said. She spoke modestly, with a little air of discretion, of judgement. Pat smiled, and with affection, because this was very much Alice; and she said, deliberately changing the subject and their mood, "And now we are going to have a good time. That's what I've come for!"