When they had gone Isobel helped me on to the front passenger-seat of the car, and with a paper tissue wiped away some of the blood that was coming out of my mouth.
As soon as I had recovered sufficiently to walk we set off across a field in a direction opposite to the one in which the police had waved vaguely when telling us about the army mutiny.
There was a severe pain in my side, and although I could walk with some difficulty I was unable to carry anything heavy. Isobel was therefore obliged to take our two large suitcases, and Sally had to carry the small one. I held our transistor radio under my arm. As we walked I switched it on, but was able to raise only one channel of the BBC, and that was the one playing continuous light music.
All three of us were at the point of despair. Neither Isobel nor Sally asked me what we should do next… for the first time since leaving our house, we were wholly aware how far beyond our control events had moved. Later, the rain returned and we sat under a tree on the edge of a field, frightened, directionless, and utterly involved in a sequence of events that no one had expected and that no one now seemed capable of stopping. I learned from the newspaper I read regularly that the mood of the country had polarized into three general groups.
Firstly, those people who had come into contact with the Afrims and suffered accordingly, or those people who were colour-prejudiced in any case, who followed the government’s policy and who felt the Afrims should be deported. According to several polls this feeling was prevalent.
Secondly, those people to whom there was no question but that the Afrims should be allowed to stay in Britain and be afforded as much charity as possible until they were capable of integrating with our society in a normal way.
Thirdly, those people who did not care whether or not the Africans landed, so long as they themselves were not directly affected.
The apparent apathy of this third group displeased me, until I realized that for my general lack of involvement I should probably be counted a member.
I questioned my own moral stand. Although my instinct was to remain uncommitted — at this time I was conducting an affair with a woman and she was occupying a major part of my thoughts — it was this awareness of my insularity which convinced me I should join the pro-Afrim society at the college.
The political and social climates were not responsive to the kind of moral judgements that had to be made.
Soon after the second election Tregarth’s government introduced much of the new legislation it had promised in its manifesto. The police had wider powers of entry and detention, and the elements that some of Tregarth’s ministers described as subversive were more effectively dealt with. Public demonstrations on any political issue were controlled tightly by the police, and the armed forces were empowered to assist in the keeping of the peace.
As the boats from Africa continued to land on British shores, the problem could no longer be ignored.
After the first wave of landings the government issued the warning that illegal immigrants would be prevented from landing, forcibly if necessary. This led directly to the incident in Dorset, where the army confronted two shiploads of Africans. Thousands of people had come to Dorset from all over the country to witness the landing, and the result was a confrontation between army and public. The Afrims got ashore.
After this, the government’s warning was modified to the effect that as illegal immigrants were captured they would be given suitable treatment in hospital, then deported.
In the meantime, polarization of attitudes was accelerated by the illegal supply of arms to the Afrims. As their presence developed into a military threat, so there grew deeper schisms in the country.
The private life of everyone in the regions directly affected — and of many in areas away from the insurgence — became oriented entirely around the immediate problem. The police force divided, and so did the Army and Air Force. The Navy remained loyal to the government. When a detachment of American Marines was landed to act in an advisory capacity to what had become known as the Nationalist side, and when the United Nations drafted a peace-keeping force, the military aspect of the situation became resolved.
By this time, no one could be said to be uninvolved.
“I hear we’re going to Augustin’s.”
The man marching next to me stared straight ahead. “About bloody time.”
“You been missing it then?”
“Piss off, will you?”
I said nothing, but let them drag out the interplay of ideas to their logical conclusion. I’d heard this or a similar conversation a dozen times in the last week.
“It was Lateef that decided. The others wanted to stay put.”
“I know. Good old Lat.”
“He’s missing it, too.”
“They got one of his? He never mentions it.”
“Yeah. They say he was screwing Olderton’s wife on the quiet.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“It’s a fact.”
“What about Olderton, then?”
“Never knew a thing.”
The other man laughed. “You’re right. I have been missing it.”
“Haven’t we all.”
They both laughed then, cackling like two old women in the uncanny cold silence of the countryside.
We slept that night in the open, and in the morning were fortunate in finding a shop still open that sold us, at normal prices, a good deal of camping equipment. At this stage we still had not formulated a serious plan, beyond a recognition of the fact that we must get to Bristol at the earliest opportunity.
We walked all that day, sleeping again in the open, but this time with the equipment. It rained during the course of the night and we were adequately protected. In spite of what at first seemed to be great difficulties, our spirits stayed high, though when I overheard Isobel talking with Sally shortly before the girl fell asleep I thought I detected a considerable strain of false optimism in their tone.
As far as I was concerned, I was passing through what I was to learn later was a temporary phase of genuine high spirits. Paradoxical as this may seem, the comparative freedom we now enjoyed, at a time when the martial law in the cities was imposing impossible restrictions on most of the population, served to compensate for all the other facts such as that we had lost virtually all our possessions, were now homeless and that the possibility of our reaching Bristol was remote.
We encountered a stretch of woodland and for a few days made our encampment there. It was during this time that our mood became depressed.
For food, we visited a near-by village where we were sold all we required without question. But later in the week, when a detachment of the Afrim forces raided the village and as a result the inhabitants erected barricades, this supply was cut off from us.
We decided to move on, and travelled across country in a southerly direction. I became increasingly aware of Isobel’s unspoken resentment about what was happening to us, and I found myself competing with her for Sally’s approval. In this way, Sally became the instrument of our conflict (as in fact she had always been) and suffered considerably.
The day after the soaking of our equipment and possessions in the crossing of the river, the conflict came to a head.
By this time we were out of touch with the rest of the world. The batteries of the radio had been growing weaker, and now the water had damaged it beyond our repair. While Isobel and Sally laid out our clothes and equipment to dry in the sun, I went off by myself and tried to condense my knowledge into something from which I could plan our next moves.