they really could be something, if only those leftist hacks knew the first bloody thing about putting one word after another. I’m no exception. Oh, yes, stand me in front of a podium and I can whip a room into a frenzy. But ask me to write a pamphlet? I’m a wreck. I tear my hair. I throw the typewriter out the window.” He laughed, shook his head, took a sip of his beer. “Now, if we had fellows like you and Dent writing, that could make a difference.”
“I’d have to think about it,” I said.
“Of course,” Northrop said. “By the way, are you still planning on going over to Spain? Things are getting pretty hot over there, let me tell you. The stakes get higher every day.” He lowered his voice. “I did notice you didn’t sign up at the end, at that meeting. You left with that other fellow instead. Young fellow.”
“Yes?”
“Friend of yours?”
“He shares my digs.”
“What’s his job?”
“Works at the tube station. He’s a ticket taker.”
Northrop smiled broadly. “You see? You’re a Communist already! By asking that young fellow to share your rooms, you challenged bourgeois complacency.” He raised his glass in a toast. “Balls to the class system, I say! Workers of the world, unite!”
“Cheers,” I said.
Northrop coughed.
“So why didn’t you sign up, in the end?” he asked next.
“I suppose I got cold feet,” I admitted. “I mean, really, men like you and me—what do we know about battle? All the fighting we’ve ever done was on cricket fields.”
“They say once a gun’s in your hand you’re a soldier,” Northrop said.
“I suppose you’ll be going over.”
“Oh, yes. And I’ll tell you why. Because someday, when all of this is over, among those of us who are lucky enough to survive, there’s going to be a reckoning. We’re going to look each other over and say, Where were you when the chips were down? What did you do? And when that day comes, I want to be able to answer, I fought. I risked my life and fought, and I’m proud to have done it, no matter if I’m legless or eyeless or like that fellow in the novel by Hemingway.” His teeth gleamed. “Sometime in the next two years someone’s going to change the world. Someone’s got to. What’s at stake is whether it’s going to be us.”
Grimly I stared into the dregs of my beer.
“Spain’s our chance. I intend to be there even if I have to die there.”
“And if we lose?”
He looked away.
“We won’t lose,” he said.
“How do you know?”
“We can’t afford to,” Northrop said. “ They can afford to. They can always afford to.”
I looked at the clock. “Gosh, Northrop,” I said, “it’s been wonderful chatting with you, but I’ve got to run. The market’ll be closing in half an hour.”
I thrust some coins at him. He didn’t refuse them.
“Think about what I said,” Northrop called to me as I headed out the door.
“Oh, I will,” I said. “You can count on that.”
“And mention it to Dent as well, if you see him! I’d love to have the chance to chat with him next time he’s in London; did you see that piece of his in The Gramophone ? Quite extraordinary.”
“I’ll pass on your regards,” I muttered grimly, wondering why I hadn’t realized all along it was Nigel he was really after.
Aunt Constance got me a job, tutoring a cretinous fat child with bulbous lips and just the faintest trace of a mustache. The child was stupid and had an obnoxious habit of parroting its parents’ views—“It’s the opinion of my father that only the lazy and useless are unemployed,” etc. Still, that same father paid well, and as the child had as little interest in learning as I had in teaching, our afternoons together, while always dull, were never strenuous.
The child—I forget its name—left at four. Then, around five-thirty, Edward came home, bearing groceries. We drank our tea, he washed up, we made love. We almost always made love in the afternoon, Edward
“I’d have to think about it,” I said.
“Of course,” Northrop said. “By the way, are you still planning on going over to Spain? Things are getting pretty hot over there, let me tell you. The stakes get higher every day.” He lowered his voice. “I did notice you didn’t sign up at the end, at that meeting. You left with that other fellow instead. Young fellow.”
“Yes?”
“Friend of yours?”
“He shares my digs.”
“What’s his job?”
“Works at the tube station. He’s a ticket taker.”
Northrop smiled broadly. “You see? You’re a Communist already! By asking that young fellow to share your rooms, you challenged bourgeois complacency.” He raised his glass in a toast. “Balls to the class system, I say! Workers of the world, unite!”
“Cheers,” I said.
Northrop coughed.
“So why didn’t you sign up, in the end?” he asked next.
“I suppose I got cold feet,” I admitted. “I mean, really, men like you and me—what do we know about battle? All the fighting we’ve ever done was on cricket fields.”
“They say once a gun’s in your hand you’re a soldier,” Northrop said.
“I suppose you’ll be going over.”
“Oh, yes. And I’ll tell you why. Because someday, when all of this is over, among those of us who are lucky enough to survive, there’s going to be a reckoning. We’re going to look each other over and say, Where were you when the chips were down? What did you do? And when that day comes, I want to be able to answer, I fought. I risked my life and fought, and I’m proud to have done it, no matter if I’m legless or eyeless or like that fellow in the novel by Hemingway.” His teeth gleamed. “Sometime in the next two years someone’s going to change the world. Someone’s got to. What’s at stake is whether it’s going to be us.”
Grimly I stared into the dregs of my beer.
“Spain’s our chance. I intend to be there even if I have to die there.”
“And if we lose?”
He looked away.
“We won’t lose,” he said.
“How do you know?”
“We can’t afford to,” Northrop said. “ They can afford to. They can always afford to.”
I looked at the clock. “Gosh, Northrop,” I said, “it’s been wonderful chatting with you, but I’ve got to run. The market’ll be closing in half an hour.”
I thrust some coins at him. He didn’t refuse them.
“Think about what I said,” Northrop called to me as I headed out the door.
“Oh, I will,” I said. “You can count on that.”
“And mention it to Dent as well, if you see him! I’d love to have the chance to chat with him next time he’s in London; did you see that piece of his in The Gramophone ? Quite extraordinary.”
“I’ll pass on your regards,” I muttered grimly, wondering why I hadn’t realized all along it was Nigel he was really after.
Aunt Constance got me a job, tutoring a cretinous fat child with bulbous lips and just the faintest trace of a mustache. The child was stupid and had an obnoxious habit of parroting its parents’ views—“It’s the opinion of my father that only the lazy and useless are unemployed,” etc. Still, that same father paid well, and as the child had as little interest in learning as I had in teaching, our afternoons together, while always dull, were never strenuous.
The child—I forget its name—left at four. Then, around five-thirty, Edward came home, bearing groceries. We drank our tea, he washed up, we made love. We almost always made love in the afternoon, Edward
Similar Books
