In Pursuit of the English - Doris Lessing [54]
‘You’re hard on them.’
‘Now don’t you start on your talk. Just don’t talk. I don’t want to think about nothing at all. Because when I start thinking I begin to think about what might happen. Suppose I don’t marry Dickie, what then?’
‘You’ll marry someone else.’
‘Yes? They’re all the same, when you get down to it.’
‘Things are different from they used to be. You don’t have to get married.’
‘They might be different for you, but they’re not for me.’
This was how she always put an end to our discussions about socialism. ‘You’re different,’ she had concluded, listening to me exhort about the system. ‘You’re middle-class – you don’t mind me saying it, I’ve got nothing against you personally, see? So if you want to talk about socialism, you’re welcome.’
‘Rose, socialism is for the working people, not for us.’
‘Yes?’
‘Yes. You won’t get it until you fight for it.’
‘Yes? I’m not going to waste my time getting excited. Things will last out my time. In the newspapers they’re always talking about a new this and new that. Well, there’s one thing I know, my mother worked all her life, and I’m no better off than she was.’
‘Yes, you are. You won’t starve, for one thing.’
‘Starve? Who’s talking about starving? She never starved either. There’s always someone to help you out if you’re in trouble. You would, if I was in trouble. But I know her life and I know mine. And I know the difference, not much.’
‘It’s your fault, because you won’t fight.’
‘Yes? Well you talk, if you enjoy it, I’ll think my own thoughts.’
‘We’re supposed to have a new society.’
‘Yes?’
‘Do you get angry because there are still rich and powerful people when all that is supposed to be finished?’
‘Who said it was?’
‘A lot of people.’
‘Well, if you want to believe all them lies, who’s stopping you?’
‘I didn’t say I believed it.’
‘Then you’re talking sense for once.’
‘All the same. The reason they are saying it is they want to put something over on you.’
‘Yes? Well, they’re not. As for them with their parties and their good times and their money here and their money here, I say, good luck to them. They’ve either got brains, which I haven’t, or they’ve done something dirty to get it. Well. I don’t envy their consciences. Would you like to be Bobby Brent or Dan or Flo?’
‘Much rather, than being virtuous and poor.’
‘Then you’re not my friend. Excuse me for saying so. I don’t like you talking like that. Then why don’t you put money into their dirty deals?’
‘Because I haven’t any.’
‘Don’t give me that talk. I don’t believe it, for one. And for another, I don’t like to hear it. And I’ll tell you something else. Sometimes I’m sorry you’re my friend, because you make me think about things.’
‘Good. That’s what friends are for.’
‘Yes? But not if it makes you unhappy. I’ve told you before, there’s one thing wrong with you. You think it’s enough to say things are wrong to change them. Well, it isn’t. I’ll tell you something else. My stepfather was Labour. Well, it stands to reason, he had unemployment and all that. And who’s Labour Party in this house? The Skeffingtons upstairs.’
‘Good for them,’ I said.
‘Yes? That pair of no-goods? They have everything bad, and so they vote Labour.’ Suddenly she giggled. ‘It made me laugh. When we had that election. Flo and Dan, they had Tory posters all over. Well, that makes sense, they’re doing all right. And the Skeffingtons stuck a Labour in their window. Flo went up and tore it down. So the Skeffingtons made a fuss about their rights. They make me laugh. Lucky they pay the rent regular. He said to Flo: All right, then we’ll leave. And she said: All right, then leave. Then she thought about the rent, and her heart broke. So for weeks, you can imagine how it was, all the house plastered up and down with Vote for Churchill, and just one window, Vote for Labour.’
‘And you?’
‘Me?’
‘You have the vote.’
‘Don’t make me laugh, I know what’s what. I just watch them at it and laugh to myself.’
‘Well, you make me angry.’
‘Yes I know I do, and I don’t care.’
‘For one thing, you make