where all this had been leading. ‘You are referring to the Linden House convictions, I take it?’
The journalist exclaimed, ‘Of course. A three-year sentence for a first offence is excessive by anyone’s standards. And you must admit that the convictions have been highly unpopular.’
He was right about that: the outcry had been considerable. There had been questions in the House, leading articles in most of the newspapers and hot debates in the correspondence columns of The Times . He remembered the final paragraph of one leader: ‘These sentences are, presumably, designed to deter future demonstrators from the use of excessive violence. However, where the punishment is seen to exceed the crime, the effects may be quite the reverse, and serve to inflame the very young people whom it is intended to deter.’
Privately Henry thought the sentences were excessive too, but it was out of the question for him to say so.
‘As you are aware,’ he said firmly, ‘I can only comment on the prosecution of the case, not on the sentences. But as the judge commented, it is immaterial whether violence stems from gang warfare or from political motives.’
‘Do you agree with that?’
The aggressive young man was getting on Henry’s nerves, but he said calmly, ‘Yes, of course I do.’
‘Although you yourself fought for your beliefs in an illegal manner?’
Full circle. And not a very subtle circle at that.
‘If you want to be pedantic about this, wars usually are legal.’ Suddenly he was impatient with this intense rather unlikeable young man. ‘But really – is this worth debating?’ He rose to his feet. Realizing the interview was over, the journalist closed his notebook with a snap.
Caroline met them coming across the lawn and, grasping the atmosphere immediately, took charge of the journalist to show him out. Henry returned to the chair under the tree, annoyed with himself for agreeing to give an interview on a Saturday afternoon. He liked to keep his home as separate from his work as possible, and now the loveliness of the garden seemed a little spoilt by the aggressive young man.
Spain. The memories, sharp yet vague, echoed in his mind. He’d been desperate for action, he remembered. Burning with righteousness. And bitterly disappointed when he’d been wounded after a scant two weeks in the Brigade. It had all been very intense. He’d never felt quite so passionately about anything since.
He supposed the young people who’d terrified the diners at the Linden House Hotel felt passionate too. But their actions had been provocative and wantonly dangerous. And that was the difference.
Caroline re-emerged from the house and he got up to meet her. She said, ‘The young man left looking less than happy with his interview.’
‘Well, I was less than happy with it too. I’m used to getting stick in court and the House, but I object to smart-alec questions from a young man who’s merely trying to prove a point.’ He gave a short laugh. ‘Actually, his principal mistake was to catch me on a Saturday when all I wanted to do was sit in the sun with you.’ He squeezed her arm. ‘Why don’t we sit out here and have tea? Just us.’
‘Ah …’ Caroline looked a little sheepish. ‘We’ve got a visitor.’
Henry groaned. He hated it when people dropped in. ‘My God – who ?’ he asked peevishly.
‘Victoria. She swears she’s only staying a minute.’
It could have been worse, Henry decided. It could have been Victoria’s mother.
They found Victoria in the kitchen. Henry blinked at her. The Indian outfit of a few months ago had been replaced by a floral yokel costume of quite astonishing design. There were enormous baggy trousers in vivid yellow, a loose top in white embroidered with large flowers whose colours took your breath away, and a battered old straw hat on top of the mass of fair hair. Just in case you failed to notice all that, she also had flowers painted on her cheeks.
‘Cor,’
The journalist exclaimed, ‘Of course. A three-year sentence for a first offence is excessive by anyone’s standards. And you must admit that the convictions have been highly unpopular.’
He was right about that: the outcry had been considerable. There had been questions in the House, leading articles in most of the newspapers and hot debates in the correspondence columns of The Times . He remembered the final paragraph of one leader: ‘These sentences are, presumably, designed to deter future demonstrators from the use of excessive violence. However, where the punishment is seen to exceed the crime, the effects may be quite the reverse, and serve to inflame the very young people whom it is intended to deter.’
Privately Henry thought the sentences were excessive too, but it was out of the question for him to say so.
‘As you are aware,’ he said firmly, ‘I can only comment on the prosecution of the case, not on the sentences. But as the judge commented, it is immaterial whether violence stems from gang warfare or from political motives.’
‘Do you agree with that?’
The aggressive young man was getting on Henry’s nerves, but he said calmly, ‘Yes, of course I do.’
‘Although you yourself fought for your beliefs in an illegal manner?’
Full circle. And not a very subtle circle at that.
‘If you want to be pedantic about this, wars usually are legal.’ Suddenly he was impatient with this intense rather unlikeable young man. ‘But really – is this worth debating?’ He rose to his feet. Realizing the interview was over, the journalist closed his notebook with a snap.
Caroline met them coming across the lawn and, grasping the atmosphere immediately, took charge of the journalist to show him out. Henry returned to the chair under the tree, annoyed with himself for agreeing to give an interview on a Saturday afternoon. He liked to keep his home as separate from his work as possible, and now the loveliness of the garden seemed a little spoilt by the aggressive young man.
Spain. The memories, sharp yet vague, echoed in his mind. He’d been desperate for action, he remembered. Burning with righteousness. And bitterly disappointed when he’d been wounded after a scant two weeks in the Brigade. It had all been very intense. He’d never felt quite so passionately about anything since.
He supposed the young people who’d terrified the diners at the Linden House Hotel felt passionate too. But their actions had been provocative and wantonly dangerous. And that was the difference.
Caroline re-emerged from the house and he got up to meet her. She said, ‘The young man left looking less than happy with his interview.’
‘Well, I was less than happy with it too. I’m used to getting stick in court and the House, but I object to smart-alec questions from a young man who’s merely trying to prove a point.’ He gave a short laugh. ‘Actually, his principal mistake was to catch me on a Saturday when all I wanted to do was sit in the sun with you.’ He squeezed her arm. ‘Why don’t we sit out here and have tea? Just us.’
‘Ah …’ Caroline looked a little sheepish. ‘We’ve got a visitor.’
Henry groaned. He hated it when people dropped in. ‘My God – who ?’ he asked peevishly.
‘Victoria. She swears she’s only staying a minute.’
It could have been worse, Henry decided. It could have been Victoria’s mother.
They found Victoria in the kitchen. Henry blinked at her. The Indian outfit of a few months ago had been replaced by a floral yokel costume of quite astonishing design. There were enormous baggy trousers in vivid yellow, a loose top in white embroidered with large flowers whose colours took your breath away, and a battered old straw hat on top of the mass of fair hair. Just in case you failed to notice all that, she also had flowers painted on her cheeks.
‘Cor,’
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