Lilia said ‘What shall we do?’
The baby began struggling to get out of her arms down to the ground.
Jason said to the baby ‘Do you want to walk then?’
The men who were coming towards them were carrying a stretcher. One of them had a rifle over his shoulder.
Jason put the baby down. He said ‘Look! He can walk!’
Lilia thought — Can he fly then?
The men with the stretcher were going past them. They were watching them curiously, or incuriously.
Jason said ‘Did you see?’
Lilia was watching the tops of trees.
The men with the stretcher were going away from them.
Jason said ‘Isn’t he clever!’
She said ‘Yes.’
Jason picked up the baby.
When they got to the edge of the wood he held the wires apart for her. She went through. Across the ploughed field, they could see their car.
She said ‘I can’t go on.’
‘Of course you can.’
She said ‘Did he really —?’
‘He took two steps!’
Jason put the baby down in the ploughed field.
The car was some way above them on an embankment.
Lilia said to the baby ‘Aren’t they silly people, my darling!’
Jason said ‘I’ll just check there isn’t a bomb under the car.’
Lilia said ‘Let me see!’
Jason said ‘He didn’t seem to think that anything like that really mattered.’
16
Eleanor lay on a mattress on the floor of Jason’s kitchen. When she heard someone at the front door she closed her eyes. Whoever it was, waited: then went through to the sitting-room. She thought — It cannot be Jason: he will be with Lilia Footsteps went to the bottom of the stairs. Eleanor thought — Perhaps he, if it is he, will think I have been trapped beneath rubble, and will bring me a cup of tea.
Whoever it was came into the kitchen. Eleanor lay with her eyes closed. She thought — But you can go on too long, like acrobats, trusting that hands will catch you —
After a time there was the sound of cupboards opening and shutting; of cups and plates being put on a table; of a kettle beginning to steam.
She thought — Love was often somewhat embarrassing.
The Professor said ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’
‘Yes please.’
‘And so many lumps —’
‘You remember?’
She thought — Lying here, with pleasure at my feet, like a dog, purring —
He said ‘I always used to bring you cups of tea!’
She wondered if she might say — You never!
She lay on her back with her hands folded across her chest. She listened to the sounds of his moving about in the kitchen.
He said ‘Ah those were the days!’
She thought — With the tanks in the streets —
— And little bells going —
There was the sound of a toaster making its springing noise: then the scraping of a knife against burnt bread.
He said ‘You were so beautiful.’
She said ‘And you were so powerful.’
He said ‘I shouldn’t have gone off, have let you go —
She said ‘Shouldn’t you?’
He brought her a cup of tea. She sat up in her bed.
They were in the bombed house; the mattress was on floorboards.
She said ‘We were never really apart. We said that.’
He said ‘In the sight of God —’
She said ‘Who else do you want to be seen by?’
Taking an interest in Jason’s kitchen — the table with the top at the level of her head; the dresser with cups and jugs on hooks; a dish-washer propped up at the front with a child’s bricks; she thought — You know, of course, why we were such a good husband and wife; because in the sight of God we had a function.
She said ‘We never really worked out what makes one set of chances different from others.’
He said ‘Well it’s what you see in them, isn’t it?’
She said ‘But they work on their own.’
He said ‘I think happiness is dangerous because you get no warning; it’s all there for you; the seagulls get you; you’re not looking.’
She said ‘I think real happiness is almost unbearable.’
She drank her tea.
She got off the bed. She and the Professor sat on either side of a table on which there were teapot, mugs, plates, toast, butter, honey.
She said ‘And what are you doing now.’
He said ‘Language. Patterns. Means of communication.’
She had the physical sensation, suddenly, of her brain in two halves like those of an apple: then coming together, slowly, to make one.
He said ‘And what are you doing?’
She said ‘Teaching.’
She thought — You mean if you went right round the world and then back again, to the Garden of Eden, there would still be that Tree of Life, which before, for some reason, they did not recognise?
After a time she said ‘Where are those children —’
He said ‘It wasn’t that you didn’t want children —’
She said ‘What was it then?’
He said ‘You didn’t want a child. You wanted children. You wanted to look after the world.’
There was the sound of someone coming into the hall. He seemed to listen.
She said ‘I would have liked a child.’
He said ‘We’ve got that too.’
She thought — That head from which an eye is born, behind the forehead —
Then — It was because of your experiments, years ago, looking after the world, that we couldn’t have children?
Anderson’s voice called from the hall — ‘I say, does anyone know who found my film?’
Anderson came into the kitchen. He was carrying his cardboard box. He looked round the room. Then he said ‘What’s that burning?’
The Professor said ‘Toast.’
Anderson said ‘And I thought it was the Old Science Buildings!’
He went to a bread bin on the dresser. He took a piece of bread and put it in the toaster.
Then he said ‘How are you two doing, all right?’
The Professor said ‘Well, who did find your film?’
Judith said ‘I did.’ She had put her head round the doorway. She looked round the room cautiously, like a child on the edge of a pantomime.
Anderson said ‘Thank you.’ Then — Why, what were you doing?’
Judith said ‘Nothing.’ Then — ‘And who put the milk and things for Lilia?’
Eleanor said ‘Jason did.’
The Professor said ‘And who’s got my typescript?’
Anderson said ‘I have.’
Eleanor thought — This is ridiculous.
Judith said ‘Well there we are then.’
Anderson said ‘With both momentum and location.’
He came and sat at the table and poured out tea.
He said ‘Bombs, guns, angels. Radioactivity —’
Judith said ‘Peace; procreation —’
The Professor said ‘I’m going!’
Eleanor thought she might say — Eat up your breakfast.
Judith said ‘Where would you go to?’
The Professor said ‘To a conference of Marxist determinist bacteriologists.’
Anderson said ‘And I could make a film about my prophetic soul, my uncle.’
Judith said ‘And I could act — The Liberation Army.’
Eleanor thought — We’ve always known that language is ridiculous: that something quite different is happening.
Then — We want not to be gods but those parts of us that are our children to be gods —
There was the sound of a car outside.
Eleanor said ‘They were expecting us?’
After a time Jason’s voice, in the hallway, said ‘Look what’s here!’
Then — ‘And I thought I’d lost it!’
Jason came into the kitchen. He was carrying a typescript. He said ‘Hullo —’
Eleanor thought — Please God, no one say: I was afraid you might not remember me —
Lilia’s voice, from the hallway, said ‘It must be someone else’s.’
Jason said ‘Yes it must be someone else’s.’
Eleanor held out her hand for the typescript. She said to Jason ‘They’re all your story anyway.’
Lilia came into the kitchen. She was carrying her baby. There were Eleanor, Anderson, Judith and the Professor sitting round the table.
Anderson said ‘This is like the last act of panto.’
Judith said ‘Didn’t Lenin act in a panto?’
Jason said ‘It is not like the last act of a panto!’
The professor said Can we all write our own stories then?’
Lilia held up her baby and seemed to be showing it the room. She said ‘Look how pleased he is to see you!’
Jason said ‘Yes, you write your stories.’
Eleanor said ‘They’d still be about the same thing.’
Jason said ‘What.’ Then — ‘Throw away the scripts!’
The baby stretched out its hands to the people in the room.
Lilia said ‘He can walk! He was so bored of the people outside!’
Anderson said ‘Can he not fly?’
Eleanor got up and went over to Jason. She thought — But at the end of the last act, in that construction like a telephone box, there is enough room for more than just us to come alive?
She put her hand on Jason’s arm. She said ‘We are your seeds. We are each other’s children.’
Jason said ‘We will be able to go out into the world?’
There was a banging on the door outside.
Eleanor thought — I’ll go.
Lilia said ‘Do you think they followed us?’
Jason went past Eleanor into the hallway. She heard him opening the front door. Then he was saying ‘Oh do come in!’
Eleanor saw two men in the garden. She did not know if they were policemen, or those on the other side.
The Professor called ‘Tell them we’ve been told to stay here, and not to say any more just now!’
One of the men came in and looked into the sitting-room. One looked up the staircase.
Anderson called ‘— And we’re keeping in touch with them by telephone!’
Lilia said ‘Have you had breakfast?’
Judith said ‘There’s room —’
Lilia held her baby out so that it was taken by jason. Then she went out with the two men who had gone back into the garden, where there were splinters of glass like light.
Eleanor called ‘You know where we are —’
The baby seemed to crow.
Jason said ‘What goes on in that huge head!’
A Note on the Author
Nicholas Mosley was born in London and educated at Eton and Balliol College, Oxford. He served in Italy during the Second World War, winning the Military Cross for bravery. He succeeded as 3rd Baron Ravensdale in 1966 and, in 1980 he also succeeded to the Baronetcy.
He is the author of twelve novels. Hopeful Monsters won The Whitbread Book of The Year Award in 1990. Mosley is also the author of several works of nonfiction, most notably the autobiography Efforts at Truth and a biography of his father, Sir Oswald Mosley.
Discover books by Nicholas Mosley published by Bloomsbury Reader at
www.bloomsbury.com/NicholasMosley
Catastrophe Practise
Efforts at Truth: An Autobiography
Hopeful Monsters
Imago Bird
Judith
Time at War
For copyright reasons, any images not belonging to the original author have been
removed from this book. The text has not been changed, and may still contain
references to missing images.
This electronic edition published in 2013 by Bloomsbury Reader
Bloomsbury Reader is a division of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc, 50 Bedford Square,
London WC1B 3DP
First published in Great Britain 1979 by Martin Secker & Warburg Ltd
Copyright © 1979 Nicholas Mosely
All rights reserved
You may not copy, distribute, transmit, reproduce or otherwise
make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means
(including without limitation electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying,
printing, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the
publisher. Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication
may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
The moral right of the author is asserted.
eISBN: 9781448211197
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