The Malcontents

by C. P. Snow

  He was leading them to the pub in which they had conferred, after the first alarm, trying to predict the future, the previous Saturday night. It wasn’t an habitual meeting place of theirs, but Mark seemed to be choosing to remind them: some of the future they had tried to predict was past by now: he might have been doing it out of irony, but, so the others took it, more likely to give them what he could of reassurance and peace.

  The sign of the turbaned head shone floodlit opposite the darkened shops. They quickened their steps, getting inside out of the cold. The lounge, on a Friday night, was half empty: as Mark had expected, Sylvia was already there, sitting at a table by herself, a glass of gin in front of her. Her great eyes lit up when she saw them. She had paid more than usual attention to her face, blotting out the etched precocious lines.

  ‘Well!’ she said, as Tess sat beside her and Mark brought tankards of beer.

  He remarked without emphasis: ‘Sylvia doesn’t know about you two. I thought you’d like to tell her yourselves–’

  ‘Yes,’ said Stephen. ‘We’re getting married.’

  ‘Oh, what luck,’ cried Sylvia. Immediately, without any of her self-consciousness, she leaned round and kissed Tess on the cheek. The two were nothing but acquaintances: so far as they had a relation, it was one, not quite of dislike, but of suspiciousness or something near to mutual jealousy. Yet, though Sylvia was herself careworn, at least for a moment all that was discarded. Everyone there had made a discovery, or would do so when they could look back, which comes to those undergoing a crisis: that personal relations were a luxury, except the rooted ones. The likings of the nerves, the hostilities of the nerves, they all got washed or swept away. A common danger or purpose, and you were living alongside those whom fate had given you. It was only outsiders, elaborating on their own feelings, who attributed the same to people in action: thus misunderstanding the quality of action such as these had gone through, or action on a bigger scale. Mark might have known this by instinct, but Stephen had learned by now: some feelings were simpler, compulsorily simpler, than until inside them one would ever think.

  Then Neil arrived, was bought beer by Mark, and also told of Stephen and Tess.

  ‘Good for you,’ he said. ‘If that’s what you want.’

  He was gazing hard-eyed at Sylvia, whom he had neither met nor seen before.

  ‘Are you in on this?’ he said.

  Against that kind of attack, she was composed. She said: ‘I know there’s been some trouble.’

  ‘You’ll know some more before you’re much older.’

  It now appeared, what Stephen and Tess hadn’t realized, that Mark had attempted to collect the other members too, perhaps as a sign of goodbye, of all suspicions having been taken from them now, or a silent acknowledgement of what he couldn’t say.

  ‘Where is Emma?’ he asked.

  ‘Gone off.’

  ‘Where to?’

  ‘How the hell should I know?’

  That was all. He added that she’d probably get into Trotskyist hands, or some such foolery.

  ‘What about Lance?’

  ‘I called him.’

  ‘What did he say?’

  ‘He said he’d rather take a trip on his own.’

  Stephen did not suppress a grim smile. Mark said: ‘I wonder. I wonder if we oughtn’t to do something about him.’

  ‘What can we do?’ said Tess.

  ‘You could say in court what a splendid guy he is,’ said Neil to Stephen. ‘That would be bleeding nonsense. It’s bleeding nonsense what you’re doing for me.’

  ‘Not completely.’

  ‘Stuff it. You’ll have to stop this sort of nonsense. If you’re going to be any good to us.’

  Neil was repeating what he said the day before, without alteration or concession, any concession, though he interrupted himself to buy a round of drinks. He said that the only test of an action was objective, did it help the cause or not, nothing else entered. He broke off: ‘You needn’t worry your guts about Lance.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘He’ll survive.’ He went on: ‘And if he didn’t, it’s his own funeral. He wouldn’t be any loss.’

  ‘I can’t take that,’ said Tess.

  ‘Take it or don’t take it. He’ll survive. Or else he’ll dig his own grave.’ He stared round. ‘We’ve been in a war. In a war somebody is going to get hurt. We lost this one, but we haven’t done so badly. Lance might be a casualty, that’s the only one.’

  Others were thinking that, since Stephen had in effect told him that Bernard had been the penetrator, Neil didn’t so much as mention him, as though even his name didn’t exist.

  ‘I’m all right,’ said Neil. ‘I suppose you two are all right.’ He was speaking to Tess and Stephen, and then turned to Mark. ‘I suppose you are. We shall keep at it somehow.’

  ‘I’m going away,’ said Mark. Sylvia, eyes not leaving him, once more heard him, with an expression open and relaxed, announce his plan.

  ‘You’re giving up hope, are you?’ said Neil. ‘I can’t say I’m surprised.’

  ‘No, I’m not giving up hope. But it’s not the same as yours.’

  ‘There’s only one kind of hope in this world.’

  But there were different kinds of hope, strong and passionate, round that table. Tess, flesh and spirit at one, able to assimilate her knowledge of Mark, still certain that human beings were capable of good – that she would sometime, not too far ahead, in her own time, find a better life: Stephen’s, more shadowed, remorseful and less able to assimilate, his mind not trustful and becoming less so, and yet his emotions in tune with hers, more simply so than his mind told him: Mark’s, which, since he hadn’t a religious faith, he didn’t explain, but seemed to rest in existence itself: and Sylvia’s.

  When Mark got up to fetch their final round, she couldn’t stop herself speaking to Stephen. He was sitting next to her, but her question, abandoned, out of control, could have been heard by others.

  ‘Have I any chance?’

  Stephen said: ‘I hope so.’ He didn’t know what to predict. He repeated: ‘I hope so,’ and meant it.

  She said: ‘Shall I go after him? Wherever he goes?’

  ‘Could you?’ He was thinking, despite her spirit, she was a conventional girl at heart, she wasn’t made for the reckless choice.

  ‘I ought to.’

  Before Mark returned, she just had time to say: ‘Steve (she hadn’t called him that since they were children). I envy you, you know. You’ve found your way, haven’t you? I haven’t. And God knows he hasn’t either.’

  When at closing time they left the pub, and the five of them walked back – without the argument, the agitations or the false optimism of the Saturday night before – through the empty museum-like streets, Stephen couldn’t get those last words out of his thoughts. Yes, he and Tess had found a way. So had Neil. Give and take the chances of life, part of what was to come one could already see. It gave confidence, it gave one’s own kind of hope. Not so with the others. Indeterminacy. The word from his own trade chased through his mind. One couldn’t foretell their fate – except the fate that must happen to everybody. Did that give them, even Sylvia, a glimpse of limitless expectations? Was there something lost, when one had found one’s way?

  Of course there was. But not to lose it, was like not cutting the ties of youth. Stephen was thinking of those two as though they were younger than he was. Sylvia would renounce limitless expectations that moment, if only she could change her fate for Tess’. Would Mark change with him? Mark had never known limits, he behaved as though complete free will was his. Sometimes such expectations gave others a flicker of envy, the mirror-image of Sylvia’s: but, Stephen thought, his concern wouldn’t be over, no, they wouldn’t be safe until they had found a way.

  They were all standing together, in sight of the cathedral (no shudder for Stephen now, no footstep of someone walking over his grave). They were all, except Sylvia, talking with a kind of comfort, like passenger
s having got over mountains in an aircraft, the air still turbulent, but with the assurance passing round that the worst of it was over.

  Synopses (Both Series & ‘Stand-alone’ Titles)

  Published by House of Stratus

  A. Strangers and Brothers Series (series order)

  These titles can be read as a series, or randomly as stand-alone novels

  George Passant

  In the first of the Strangers and Brothers series Lewis Eliot tells the story of George Passant, a Midland solicitor’s managing clerk and idealist who tries to bring freedom to a group of people in the years 1925 to 1933.

  The Light & The Dark

  The Light and the Dark is the second in the Strangers and Brothers series. The story is set in Cambridge, but the plot also moves to Monte Carlo, Berlin and Switzerland. Lewis Eliot narrates the career of a childhood friend. Roy Calvert is a brilliant but controversial linguist who is about to be elected to a fellowship.

  Time of Hope

  The third in the Strangers and Brothers series (although the first in chronological order) and tells the story of Lewis Eliot’s early life. As a child he is faced with his father’s bankruptcy. As a young man, he finds his career at the Bar hindered by a neurotic wife. Separation from her is impossible however.

  The Masters

  The fourth in the Strangers and Brothers series begins with the dying Master of a Cambridge college. His imminent demise causes intense rivalry and jealousy amongst the other fellows. Former friends become enemies as the election looms.

  The New Men

  It is the onset of World War II in the fifth in the Strangers and Brothers series. A group of Cambridge scientists are working on atomic fission. But there are consequences for the men who are affected by it. Hiroshima also causes mixed personal reactions.

  Homecomings

  Homecomings is the sixth in the Strangers and Brothers series and sequel to Time of Hope. This complete story in its own right follows Lewis Eliot’s life through World War II. After his first wife’s death his work at the Ministry assumes a larger role. It is not until his second marriage that Eliot is able to commit himself emotionally.

  The Conscience of the Rich

  Seventh in the Strangers and Brothers series, this is a novel of conflict exploring the world of the great Anglo-Jewish banking families between the two World Wars. Charles March is heir to one of these families and is beginning to make a name for himself at the Bar. When he wishes to change his way of life and do something useful he is forced into a quarrel with his father, his family and his religion.

  The Affair

  In the eighth in the Strangers and Brothers series Donald Howard, a young science Fellow is charged with scientific fraud and dismissed from his college. This novel, which became a successful West End play, describes a miscarriage of justice in the same Cambridge college which served as a setting for ‘The Masters’

  The Corridors of Power

  The corridors and committee rooms of Whitehall are the setting for the ninth in the Strangers and Brothers series. They are also home to the manipulation of political power. Roger Quaife wages his ban-the-bomb campaign from his seat in the Cabinet and his office at the Ministry. The stakes are high as he employs his persuasiveness.

  The Sleep Of Reason

  The penultimate novel in the Strangers and Brothers series takes Goya‘s theme of monsters that appear in our sleep. The sleep of reason here is embodied in the ghastly murders of children that involve torture and sadism.

  Last Things

  The last in the Strangers and Brothers series has Sir Lewis Eliot’s heart stop briefly during an operation. During recovery he passes judgement on his achievements and dreams. Concerns fall from him leaving only ironic tolerance. His son Charles takes up his father’s burdens and like his father, he is involved in the struggles of class and wealth, but he challenges the Establishment, risking his future in political activities.

  B. Other Novels

  A Coat of Varnish

  Humphrey Leigh, retired resident of Belgravia, pays a social visit to an old friend, Lady Ashbrook. She is waiting for her test results, fearing cancer. When Lady Ashbrook gets the all clear she has ten days to enjoy her new lease of life. And then she is found murdered.

  Death Under Sail

  Roger Mills, a Harley Street specialist, is taking a sailing holiday on the Norfolk Broads. When his six guests find him at the tiller of his yacht with a smile on his face and a gunshot through his heart, all six fall under suspicion in this, C P Snow’s first novel.

  In Their Wisdom

  Economic storm clouds gather as bad political weather is forecast for the nation. Three elderly peers look >on from the sidelines of the House of Lords andwonder if it will mean the end of a certain way of life. Against this background is set a court struggle over a disputed will that escalates into an almighty battle.

  The Malcontents

  Thomas Freer is a prosperous solicitor who is also the Registrar, responsible for his cathedral’s legal business. His son Stephen is one of a secret group of young men and women known as the core. When Stephen’s group ctivities land them in terrible trouble, no one guesses that the consequences will lead to a death and more.

  The Search

  This story told in the first person starts with a child’s interest in the night sky. A telescope starts a lifetime’s interest in science. The narrator goes up to King’s College, London to study. As a fellow at Cambridge he embarks on love affairs and searches for love at the same time as career success. Finally, contentment in love exhausts his passion for research.

  C. Non-Fiction

  The Physicists

  C.P. Snow’s sketches of famous physicists and explanation of how atomic weapons were developed gives an overview of science often lacking. This study provides us with hope for the future as well as anecdotes from history.

  Trollope

  C P Snow’s passion for Anthony Trollope makes for an interesting biography of the famous writer. His early career in the Post Office, his thwarted political ambitions and his personal life are all recounted here, along with a knowledgable and perceptive take on his ‘art’.

  More Non-Fiction coming soon - including The Realists

  www.houseofstratus.com