Night Over Water - Ken Follett [71]
“We had these stupid governesses. That’s why I can’t go to university—no qualifications.” She looked sad. “I think I should have liked university.”
“It’s unbelievable. I thought rich people could do anything they liked.”
“Not with my father.”
“What about the kid?” Harry said with a nod at Percy.
“Oh, he’s at Eton, of course,” she said bitterly. “It’s different for boys.”
Harry considered. “Does that mean,” he said. diffidently, “that you don’t agree with your father in other things—politics, for instance?”
“I certainly don’t,” she said fiercely. “I’m a socialist.”
This, Harry thought, could be the key to her. “I used to belong to the Communist party,” he said. It was true: he had joined when he was sixteen and left after three weeks. He waited for her reaction before deciding how much to tell her.
She immediately became animated. “Why did you leave?”
The truth was that political meetings bored him stiff, but it might be a mistake to say so. “It’s hard to put into words, exactly,” he prevaricated.
He should have realized that would not wash with her. “You must know why you left,” she said impatiently.
“I guess it was too much like Sunday school.”
She laughed at that. “I know just what you mean.”
“Anyway, I reckon I’ve done more than the Commies in the way of returning wealth to the workers who produced it.”
“How is that?”
“Well, I liberate cash from Mayfair and take it to Battersea.”
“You mean you rob only the rich?”
“There’s no point in robbing the poor. They haven’t got any money.”
She laughed again. “But surely you don’t give away your ill-gotten gains, like Robin Hood?”
He considered what to tell her. Would she believe him if he pretended he robbed the rich to give to the poor? Although she was intelligent, she was also naïve—but, he decided, not that naive. “I’m not a charity,” he said with a shrug. “But I do help people sometimes.”
“This is amazing,” she said. Her eyes sparkled with interest and animation, and she looked quite ravishing. “I suppose I knew there were people like you, but it’s just extraordinary to actually meet you and talk to you.”
Don’t overdo it, girl, Harry thought. He was nervous of women who became too enthusiastic about him: they were liable to feel outraged when they found out he was human. “I’m not that special,” he said with genuine embarrassment. “I just come from a world you’ve never seen.”
She gave him a look that said she thought he was special.
This had gone far enough, he decided. It was time to change the subject. “You’re embarrassing me,” he said bashfully.
“I’m sorry,” she said quickly. She thought for a moment then said: “Why are you going to America?”
“To get away from Rebecca Maugham-Flint.”
She laughed. “No, seriously.”
She was like a terrier when she got hold of something, he thought: she wouldn’t let go. She was impossible to control, which made her dangerous. “I had to leave to stay out of jail,” he said.
“What will you do when you get there?”
“I thought I might join the Canadian air force. I’d like to learn to fly.”
“How exciting.”
“What about you? Why are you going to America?”
“We’re running away,” she said disgustedly.
“What do you mean?”
“You know that my father is a Fascist.”
Harry nodded. “I’ve read about him in the papers.”
“Well, he thinks the Nazis are wonderful and he doesn’t want to fight against them. Besides, the government would put him in jail if he stayed.”
“So you’re going to live in America?”
“My mother’s family come from Connecticut.”
“And how long will you be there?”
“My parents are. going to stay at least for the duration of the war. They may never come back.”
“But you don’t want to go?”
“Certainly not,” she said forcefully. “I want to stay and fight. Fascism is the most frightful wickedness and this war is dreadfully important, and I want to do my bit.” She started to talk about the Spanish Civil War, but Harry