Doris Lessing

"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 begi

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, stu

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 pla

"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!"

Then Pat suggested all kinds of little treats that Alice would never have thought of for herself.

They went to tea at the Savoy, for a start. Pat treated Alice. Pat wore a very smart black wool dress embroidered with bright wools she had bought at a jumble sale, and looked more striking, more fashionable than any other woman in the great pillared, gilded, romantic Savoy. Alice wore a skirt, but otherwise was as usual. They ate a lot, and Pat was fussy about her tea. They came out like successful buccaneers.

Then they spent a morning in Harrods, buying with their eyes. Rather, Pat did: Alice did not care about luxury, but she enjoyed Pat's enjoyment. Again Pat wore this best dress of hers, the dramatic black wool, which made her, with her vivid glossy colouring, seem exotic, un-English. Then, next day, with the rain easing off, they went to Regent's Park and walked about among puddles and lilacs and flowering cherries.

Then Pat said she must go back home. She said "home," Alice noted.

She said to Pat, "Will you come down again? Soon?"

Pat looked self-conscious, laughed, and said, "Alice, I don't think we will be seeing each other again. Well, perhaps. And yet again, perhaps not..." She was making a joke of it, in her way, but her eyes sent messages of regret.

"Why?" demanded Alice. "But why, why, why?"

Pat sobered, and said, "Alice, I keep telling you, I am serious, unlike those two bloody lunatics of ours."

And with this she kissed Alice, tears in her eyes, and went off, ru