Lanark_ a life in 4 books - Alasdair Gray [23]
At last he wakened in pain which made him scream aloud. Mrs. Fleck ran in. A ragged wound had been torn in his side through the pyjama jacket, blood from it flooded the blankets. Lanark bit the thumb knuckle of his left hand to prevent further screaming and glared at the bloodstained claws of the right. Mrs. Fleck ran to get bandages and water but when she returned dragonhide had crystalized over the wound and Lanark sat on the bed pulling his clothes on. He said, “You spoke about a glove. Can I have it?”
She went to a lobby cupboard and took out her husband’s glove and an old waterproof coat. She helped Lanark put them on and he left the house.
Snow had fallen but thin rain was reducing it to slush. He had gone to bed because the alternatives were detestable and now he walked the streets because sleep was dangerous, choosing streets where the slush lay thinnest. Once again he came to the square. The ground-floor windows were alight in a building along one side of it, and hammering and sawing resounded within. Arched doors stood open, showing a marble-floored entrance hall with a red wooden hut in the middle. It was covered with posters saying YOU HAVEN’T MUCH TIME—PROTEST NOW. The words seemed meant for him, so he crossed the marble to the hut and stepped inside.
A thin, bearded man wearing a clerical collar and an old woman with wild white hair sat behind a counter putting pamphlets into envelopes. A young man with bushy hair typed rapidly at a table behind them, and an attractive girl sat on the table plucking idly at a guitar. As Lanark approached the counter the woman clasped her hands below her chin and looked at him with an encouraging smile. After hesitating awhile he said in a low voice, “I’m frightened of what’s happening to me.”
She nodded vigorously. “Yes! No wonder. If you’ve been looking around you’ll see we haven’t much time.”
“What can I do?”
“The primary need is to persuade others of the danger. When we have a majority we can act. Would you care to distribute some pamphlets for us?”
“That wouldn’t help. You see my arm is all—”
“Oh, we understand that! And we’re glad you came, even so. Please, please don’t believe we don’t care. We have launched this campaign because we care deeply. But for troubles of that personal kind hard work is the only answer, hard work for a decent cause. I’m sure if you sit down calmly and address those envelopes it will help more than you believe.”
Lanark pulled the glove off and showed her the right hand. Her round, pleasant face grew red but she smiled determinedly into his eyes and said, “You see, the only cure for these—personal—diseases is sunlight. Which our party is trying to restore. The artificially inflated land values at the centre have produced such overbuilding on the horizon that the sun is barely able to rise above it. As soon as we have a majority we can persuade the authorities to act.”
The bushy-haired young man had stopped typing to roll a cigarette. He said, “Ballocks. If we had a majority tomorrow the situation would be the same. A city is ruled by its owners. Nine tenths of our factories and houses are owned by a few financiers and landlords, with a bureaucracy and a legal system to defend them and collect