The Good Terrorist - Doris May Lessing [87]
Jasper, and then Bert, said that no one was being committed to anything. All that was planned was a quick, exploratory trip to Ireland, to meet a representative of the IRA, and to offer cooperation with a group here.
“A group of what?” demanded Faye, showing her pretty little teeth.
“Yes,” said Pat, though with a little edge of humour that told Alice it would be all right, “are we still committing all the vast resources of the CCU, or only ourselves?”
Alice saw that Roberta would have laughed at this, had Faye’s mood permitted it.
Bert, because he wanted to reinstate himself with Pat, took command and, his white teeth showing in the thickets of his beard while he offered a steady, responsible, forceful smile, said, “I can appreciate the comrades’ reservations. But in the nature of things”—and here he twisted his red lips to signal and to share with them the perspectives of this operation—“certain approaches have to be tentative and even, apparently, ad hoc. After all, the meeting with Jack was fortuitous. It was chance, and became productive, thanks to Comrade Jasper. It was he who made the first approaches.…” Alice could see that it was not going to be easy for any of them to admit obligation to Jasper, even though he was being correctly impersonal, sitting somewhat to one side of the scene, waiting for their approval, the image of a responsible cadre.
But just then there was a sound in the hall, the door to outside shut, and Jasper, jumping up to look, reported it was Philip going down the street. The fact that he had not come into the kitchen meant he felt unwanted, and this brought Faye in with, “And there is no place we can talk in this house now. Alice has seen to that.”
Pat said quickly, “Well, we can go next door. But surely it is all right for a few minutes here.”
“And then Jim will come in. Why not?” demanded Faye sweetly. “ ‘Oh Jim,’ we can say, ‘we are just having a little chat about the IRA.’ ”
“Or Mary and Reggie,” said Roberta, allying herself with Faye out of love. Actually, as the others knew, she agreed with them, did not need the furious condemnation that Faye had to use as a fuel to keep going.
“Why don’t we just agree, quickly, now, to one or two basics,” said Pat. “There isn’t very much to discuss, is there?”
“No,” said Faye. “I’m serious about it, if no one else is.” And with petulant little movements of her lips and eyes, she challenged them; then reached for a cigarette, and lit it, and blew out thick smoke in irritation.
And, to support her, came sounds from the hall: Mary and Reggie, who, full of talk and laughter, opened the door of the kitchen and were silent. With no reason not to come in—since it was the spirit of the house that people should sit around the kitchen table talking—they seemed to sense a unity, to know they were not wanted. Smiling politely, they said, “Oh, we were just …” And, in spite of cries of invitation that they should stay—from Alice, from Pat—went off up the stairs.
“Brilliant,” said Faye.
“I agree,” said Pat. “That wasn’t good. Well, I suggest someone nips over next door to see if we can borrow a room—that is, if it is felt that we need actually to discuss anything more.”
“I need to discuss a good deal,” said Faye.
Jasper went, was gone it seemed only for a minute, came back to say that they would be welcome.
He returned next door at once. Then Alice went, and Bert and Pat. Then Faye and Roberta.
The goose-girl admitted them, indicating a room at the top of the stairs—the same as that which in their house was inhabited by Jasper and Alice. It had been a nursery, and had lambs, ducks, Mickey Mouses, humorous dinosaurs, coy robots, witches on broomsticks, and the other necessities of the middle-class child’s bedroom.
“Christ,” said Faye violently, “what utter bloody shit,” and she even held out her pretty hands, clawed to show slender nails painted bright red, as if she would scratch the pictures off the walls. She smiled, however, if you could call it a smile.
It turned out that, after all, there was nothing much more