The Good Terrorist - Doris May Lessing [180]
Alice started to run back, then walked. She went straight up to Bert, so that he could turn that face towards her, and she could see that it was normal. But when he did look at her she saw a dead, awful face; and then he winked at her, slowly, and the wink dislodged that other vision of him as a corpse, and he became his ordinary self, a bit pale and tense, but that was all.
It’s not too late to stop, she was thinking. It’s all a mistake. We should plan it all more carefully. Perhaps Faye and Jasper have decided to call it off. They have disconnected the bombs. That is why they are late.
Four-fifteen.
In all that time there had been only three spaces available for parking.
And then Alice saw that Bert was standing facing away from her, very still, staring, Presumably it was the car. A white Escort went past Bert and then Alice, with Jasper and Faye in front, Faye driving. They looked exalted, but scared. The rear mudguard on the side nearest the pavement was bashed in. That was why they were late. She went up to Bert, and he agreed with her diagnosis.
There was no parking place anywhere. The car, confined by traffic, turned right, slowly, and crawled round down the side street, where cars were almost stationary, vanished for a while round the back, came into view again, and, rather faster, drove up past Roberta, who, unable to stop herself, raised her arms as Faye went past, but dropped them slowly, presumably when the couple in the car took no notice of her. That they could have that much sense comforted Alice. The white Escort went past Bert and Alice again. It was four-twenty-five. No traffic wardens; that was something.
They had not discussed what should be done in the event of there being no parking places. Presumably as the time ran out the two would find somewhere to park and just run?
This time Faye did not turn to drive up the side street by the hotel, but went on for another block and then turned. Inexplicably. While the car was out of sight, two cars drove away in that side street next to the hotel, leaving quite a long empty space. Would Faye see this when she came back into position again, at the far end of the hotel?
When Faye did reappear, it was after half past.
By then Alice was sick with tension, with misery. She knew that she was sniffling and snuffling, but she couldn’t help it.
Faye was driving again past Roberta, who this time did not move, only stood. Despair. People were noticing her.
As the car passed Bert he signalled, pointing to the empty space. Faye and Jasper looked like two blocks of wax with eyes fixed in them. At first they did not look at Bert; then Jasper glanced at him, and tugged at Faye’s arm.
Just in time, Faye turned to drive into the side street.
As she did, a car slid into the empty space from the other direction, but leaving quite enough room for Faye to park. Cars were already behind her. In order for her to park, she had to hold up the traffic, looking for a way through, to get to the other side of the street. The car, others hooting at it, waited, then forced its way across the flow of traffic, to a chorus of hoots and shouts. Faye inserted the car in the space on the diagonal and, it seemed, was ready to leave it, for her door opened, but it shut again, and she drove the Escort violently up on the pavement. A long pause, then the car reversed hastily, so that it was better parked, but not much.
The other cars were still hooting.
Roberta, seeing from Bert’s and Alice’s rigid, attentive poses and how they stared that Faye was parking, came hastening across to join them. Oblivious of any previous decisions not to stand together so as not to make themselves conspicuous, the three stood in a tight group, staring at the delinquent car. Now, however, it could be said that they were people censorious of a bit of very bad parking.
“For God’s sake,” Roberta was saying, in a harsh, sick,