Doris Lessing - The Sweetest Dream

The table was laid for eleven. Wilhelm had donated a wondrous and most un-English cake, in shape a plump blunt spiral, with a surface like crisp glistening tulle – cream and meringue, in fact. It was sprinkled with tiny gold flakes. Sophie said it should be worn, not eaten.

They sat down to eat with half the places unoccupied, and then Sophie rushed in, with Roland. The handsome young actor, extending potent charm to each one of them, said, ‘No, no I'm not going to sit down, I've just come to congratulate you, Colin. As you know, I am an inveterate social climber, and if you are going to be an important writer, then I have to be in on the act. ' He kissed Frances, then Andrew – who looked humorous, shook Colin's hand, bowed over Julia's, and directed a sweeping bow at Wilhelm. ' See you later, my darling, ' he said to Sophie, and then, ‘I have to be on stage in twenty minutes. ‘And they sat listening to the car go roaring away.

Sophie and Colin, seated next to each other, were kissing, embracing, rubbing their cheeks together. Everyone permitted themselves thoughts of how Sophie would at last leave Roland, who made her so unhappy and that Colin and she might...

Toasts were drunk. The food was served. The meal was halfway through when Sylvia came in. She was as always these days, only half herself: she was ready to drop and they knew she soon would. She had brought with her a young colleague whom she described as a fellow victim of the system. Both sat down, accepted glasses of wine, allowed food to be put on their plates, but they were drifting off to sleep as they sat. Frances said, 'You'd better be off to bed,' and they rose like ghosts and stumbled out and up.

' A very strange system, ' came Julia's harsh voice, which these days sounded threatening, and sorrowful. ‘How is it they can treat these young people so badly?'

Jill arrived late, and apologetic. She was now a large young woman with her hair in a wide frizz of yellow, and clothes designed to make her look public and competent – understood when she said she was going to stand as councillor in the next municipal election. She was effusive, kept saying how wonderful it was to be here again: she lived a quarter of a mile away. She volunteered, when no one asked, that Rose was a freelance journalist and ' politically very active' .

Julia enquired, ‘And may I ask what cause is claiming her attention?'

Not understanding the question, since of course there was only one possible cause, Revolution, Jill said that Rose was involved ' with everything' .

Towards the end of a cheerful meal, Johnny came in. These days he was even more military, stern, unsmiling. He was wearing a war surplus camouflage jacket, and under it a tight black polo-neck and black jeans. His grey hair was half-inch stubble. He shot out his hand to Colin, nodded, said, ' Congratulations' , and to his mother, ' Mutti, I hope you are well. ' 'Well enough,’ said Julia. To Wilhelm, ‘Ah, so you are here too. Excellent. ' He nodded at Frances. To Andrew he said, 'I am glad you are doing international law. That ought to come in useful.' He remembered Sophie, for he did give her a little bow, and Jill, whom he knew well, got a comradely salute.

He sat down and Frances filled his plate. Wilhelm poured wine for him, and Comrade Johnny lifted his glass to the workers of the world, and then continued with a speech he had just been making to the meeting he had left. First, though, apologies from Geoffrey, James and Daniel, who were sure that everyone would understand the Struggle must come first. American imperialism... the military-industrial machine... Britain's role as lackey... the Vietnam War...

But Julia was miserable about the Vietnam War, and stopped him by asking, 'Johnny, could you please give more details ... I would really like to know about it. I simply do not understand why it is, this war. '

'Why? Surely you don't have to ask, Mutti. Because of profit of course. ‘And he went on with his speech, interrupting it to push in mouthfuls of food.

Colin stopped him with, ' Just a minute. Just stop for one minute. Did you read my book? You haven't said.'

Johnny laid down his knife and fork and looked severely at his son. ‘Yes, I have read it. '

'Then, what do you think of it?'

This folly caused Frances, Andrew in particular, Julia too, incredulity, as if Colin had decided to poke an up-till-now unprovoked lion with a stick. And what they feared happened. Johnny said, 'Colin, if you are genuinely interested in my opinion, then I shall give it. But I must return to principles. I am not interested in the by-products of a rotten system. That is what your book is. It is subjective, it is personal, there is no attempt to set events in a political perspective. All this class of writing, so-called literature, is the detritus of capitalism, and writers like you are bourgeois lackeys.'

‘Oh, do shut up,’ said Frances. ' Just behave like a human being for once. '

'Really? How you do give yourself away, Frances. A human being. And what do you think I and all the other comrades are working for, if not humanity?'

' Father,’ said Colin, who was already white, and suffering, ‘I’d like to know, leaving all the propaganda aside, what did you think of the book?'

The father and son were leaning towards each other across the table. Colin was like someone threatened with a beating, his father was triumphant and in the right. Had he recognised himself in the book? Probably not.

'I told you. I read the book. I am telling you what I think. If there is one class of person I despise, it is a liberal. And that is what you are, all of you. You are the hacks spawned by the decaying capitalist system.'

Colin got up and walked out of the kitchen. They heard him go blundering up the stairs.

Julia said, ‘And now Johnny, leave. Just go. '

Johnny sat, apparently in thought: it might be occurring to him that he could have behaved differently? He quickly shovelled in what remained on his plate, tipped what was in his wine glass down his throat, and said, ' Very well, Mutti. You are throwing me out of my house. ' He got up, and in a moment they heard the front door slam.

Sophie was in tears. She went out to follow Colin, saying, 'Oh, that was so awful.'

Jill said into the silence, ‘But he's such a great man, he'sso wonderful...’ She looked around, saw nothing but distress and anger, and said, ‘I should go, I think. ‘No one stopped her. She went saying, ' Thank you so much for asking me. '

Frances showed signs of cutting the cake, but Julia was rising, aided by Wilhelm. ‘I am so ashamed,’ she said. ‘I am so ashamed. ‘And, weeping, she went up the stairs, with Wilhelm.

There remained Andrew and his mother.

Frances suddenly began beating her fists on the table, her face raised, eyes streaming. 'I'll kill him,' she said. 'One of these days I'll kill him. How could he do that? I cannot understand how he could do it. '

Andrew said, ' Mother, just listen...’

But Frances was going on, and now she was actually tugging at her hair, as if wanting to pull it out. ‘I will kill him. How could he hurt Colin like that? Colin would've been happy with just one little kind word. '

' Mother, do listen to me. Just stop. Listen. '

Frances let her hands drop, rested her fists on the table, sat waiting.

'Do you know what you've never understood? I don't know why you haven't. Johnny is stupid. He is a stupid man. How is it you've never seen it?'

Frances said, ' Stupid. ' She felt as if weights and balances were shifting in her mind. Well, of course he was stupid. But she had never admitted it. And that was because of the great dream. After all she had taken from him, all the shit, she had never been able to say to herself, simply, that Johnny was stupid.