Alfred and Emily by Doris Lessing

door, they were fighting because girls wearing ringlets went into the Serbs.’
    â€˜I wonder what the Serbs would say, or the Turks?’ remarked Emily.
    â€˜Oh, how frivolous, yes, you are right. But don’t forget, we are the surplus generation; we have to assert ourselves.’
    A newspaper had come out with a leader saying the young men were restless because there had been no war, and they felt they had not been tested. ‘They had been surplus to requirements.’ At once the young men were wearing badges and buttons claiming they were Surplus.
    Fiona, drinking champagne as if it were medicine, burst out with, ‘Aunt Emily – I hope I may call you aunt. I am not a Martin-White yet, though I shall soon be…This has been such an unlucky start. I did so want you to take me seriously.’
    â€˜Of course she must take you seriously. She has seen you defy the opposing hordes of ringlet-wearers.’
    â€˜Aunt Emily,’ insisted Fiona, ‘I simply do have to tell you how much I admire this idea of yours.’ And holding her champagne high so she could take restoring sips, she dabbed her wet eyes and, with scarlet cheeks, insisted, ‘You see, I’vebeen working in the East End now for months, and it is so awful. People never believe it when I tell them. The poverty is so bad. When I see the children, so thin, their poor little ribs sticking out, I simply can’t believe that in this rich country of ours…’
    Clearly Fiona had already had some practice in public speaking, and Emily interrupted to say, ‘But I was working with the poorest of the poor myself, when I was at the Royal Free.’
    But Fiona was sweeping on. ‘If I can do anything at all to help you, I will. When Cedric told me about your plans, it was my wildest dream come true.’
    And so she went on, while the waiters brought their plates.
    â€˜Fiona,’ said Cedric, ‘just let me interrupt. Aunt Emily, the food here is really very good…’
    â€˜Oh, Cedric, food, yes, I know. And some of the people I saw in the East End hadn’t had a square meal for months.’
    A waiter came from the street entrance, bent to speak to a diner near the door and, with a triumphant glance around this enemy place, went out. The man whom the waiter had spoken to held up his hand. ‘We came from next door. From the Last Word. He says there is news that the battle at Kosovo ended last night. It’s a big victory for the Serbs.’
    â€˜Surely,’ said Cedric, addressing everyone, ‘it ought to be called a draw because battles at Kosovo will certainly break out again.’
    At this some people shouted at him. There wasn’t a note of mockery in it, as there had been on the pavement.
    A group of young men got up from the back of the restaurant and advanced on Cedric.
    â€˜Good Lord,’ said Cedric. ‘A lynch mob.’
    The proprietor came running forward, waved back the threatening young men and said to Cedric, ‘Sir, in your own interests, do please leave,’ and he indicated Fiona’s flagrant cheeks under the Serbian locks.
    Cedric got up, pulled up Fiona, and Emily got up too.
    â€˜Never mind,’ said Cedric. ‘I know a good place just near here.’ And with one arm around Emily, the other around Fiona, he steered them out of Turkish Delights.
    On the pavement the Serbian supporters were whooping and dancing.
    â€˜No, Fiona,’ said Cedric, ‘come away. Everyone knows you are a Serbie.’ And he took them down the street to a restaurant where he was known.
    â€˜Aunt Emily,’ said Fiona, ‘I am a serious person. Please believe me.’
    Next day at Emily’s hotel, Cedric said that Fiona was mortified and desolate, he hoped Emily could see – and he was here to assure her that Fiona was as sensible a girl as anyone could wish.
    â€˜Cedric,’ said Emily, ‘don’t you understand? I have been