The Good Terrorist - Doris May Lessing [162]
“This is as good a time as any to talk it over,” said Jocelin.
“We’ll have to call down Roberta and Faye, then,” said Jasper, uneasily. He involuntarily looked up at the ceiling, immediately beyond which Roberta and Faye, presumably reconciled, lay or sat. At any rate, silently.
“Perhaps it isn’t the right time,” said Bert. From his grimace Alice deduced that Faye was in one of her moods.
She said vaguely, “Perhaps we should do it without Faye.”
They all looked at her, ready to be censorious. All, however, were thinking, as she could see, that there was something in what she said.
It was Jocelin, who had been working with Faye for some hours that day, who remarked, “But she’s very clever. And she’s got some good ideas about where.”
“Where?” asked Bert, laughing again. “Tell us. She hasn’t patented her thoughts on the subject.”
Jocelin said seriously, “I agree with you that Faye is emotional. But I got the impression this morning that she’d be good in an emergency.”
“Who is going up to call them down?” said Jasper, facetiously.
They all looked at Alice.
Alice did not move, but stirred her tea.
“Well, what’s wrong with you, then?” demanded Jasper.
“I’m tired,” she said.
She got up, in a way that seemed both impulsive and mechanical. She seemed surprised she had got up and was going to the door. Jasper was after her and had her by the wrist. “Where are you going?”
“I’m going for a walk,” she said.
“But we’re discussing whether to have a regular meeting or not. A meeting to decide what venue we are going to use.”
Again, it was like the moment when he had knelt behind her as she lay in her sleeping bag. A long pause, and she came back to her chair, went on stirring her tea as if she had not left.
“I’m going to call Faye and Roberta,” said Jocelin, and she went upstairs decisively.
They could hear a little descant of voices, Faye shrill, Roberta full and positive, Jocelin coming in like a response. Jocelin had the last word. She came down, announced that it was all right. They waited for half an hour, being humorous about it.
Then they were all together. It went on for hours. They discussed the merits of railway stations, restaurants, public monuments. The Albert Memorial was favourite for a few minutes, and then Faye said no, she adored it; she wouldn’t harm a hair of its head. Hotels. Number 10. The Home Office. MI-5’s information computer. The War Office.
It went on. As when a group of people are choosing the name for something among many possibilities, the suggestions became wilder and more imaginative, became funnier; the whole thing turned into comedy. From time to time, one of them would say that they must be serious, but it seemed that seriousness was not on the agenda. They were all weak with laughter when they finally decided where. And were restored to seriousness by Faye’s imperious demand that it was she who should actually place the explosives. It was her turn, she said. Alice and Jocelin and Bert had had all the fun last time.
The decision was taken that “the real thing” would be conducted by Faye, Jasper, and Jocelin as mistress of explosives, the others assisting. The meeting broke up at about eight. They celebrating by going to the Indian restaurant. Then Faye and Roberta went to the pictures. Bert and Jasper and Caroline—Bert wanted Alice to come, too—went to visit the South London squat. Jocelin had some last finishing touches to make.
Alice said no, she was all right, she wanted to go for a walk. Yes, she did want to go walking; she didn’t understand why they made such a fuss. She liked walking by herself.
This was the first time some of them had heard about this proclivity of Alice’s, and jocular remarks ensued.
She set off, frowning, into the dark streets. She stopped after a hundred yards or so and stood looking into a garden where only the outlines of flowers, a shrub, were visible, all colour drained from them. She came to herself with a sigh and walked towards her mother’s flat. There she briskly rang