At last he broke the silence with, "Alice, I think you should take a holiday."
This so amazed her that she tried to sit up, and he pulled her down.
Now she lay close beside him, and his hot strong body began to send waves of sensation right through her. She was fascinated and disgusted. She kept her eyes straight up at the ceiling, for she knew what she would see if she looked down along his body. She wasn't going to get involved with that, "pure" or not!
She said, "I don't understand why you are always wanting me to do such middle-class things."
"What's middle-class about a holiday? Everyone has to have holidays. Modern life is very bad for everyone." She thought he was teasing her, but a glance showed him to be serious.
"Anyway, where could I go? You despise all the people I know."
"I didn't say all of them. Of course not."
"You don't mind Pat, I seem to remember. Did you know she's left Bert because she doesn't think he is serious, either?"
"Yes, I did know. She is a serious person. Like you, Alice."
"Well, you yourself were wanting Bert to do something or other."
"I have changed my mind about him," he said severely. "That was an error of judgement on my part."
"Well, I don't know," she said drearily at last. She began a small childish snuffling.
"I do. You are tired, Comrade Alice. You work and you work, and most of these people aren't worth it."
At this she let out a real wail, like a child, turned to him, and was held, like a child, against him, while he made consoling, soothing noises. She cried herself out.
"Poor Alice," he said at last. "But it is no good crying. You are going to have to make a decision. Look, these two Errol Flynns are going to Moscow. Why don't you leave before they come back?"
"Errol Flynn!"
"Don't you like Errol Flynn? I have always enjoyed his films."
"There is a great difference in our two cultures," she said, dreamily, speaking into his chest. They were lying in such a way that his hard protrusion was kept away from her, so she didn't mind it.
"That is very true. But surely people like Errol Flynn? Why, otherwise, is he a famous star?"
"Well," she said, "I'm going to think about all this."
"Yes, you must."
"And when are you coming back?"
"How did you know I was going away?"
"Oh, I just thought you might be."
He hesitated. "You are right, as it happens. I shall be away, probably, for some weeks - " He felt her seem to shrink, and he said, "Or perhaps only for a week or two." Another pause. "And, Alice," he said, "you must, you must separate yourself. Believe me, Alice, I'm not without experience of... this type of person. Where they are, there is always trouble."
After some minutes, she sat up, putting aside his hands in a tidy, housewifely way.
She said, "Thank you, Comrade Andrew. I shall think carefully about everything you have said."
"And thank you, Comrade Alice. I am sure you will."
From the door, she turned to give him an awkward smile, and went out, hurrying so as not to have to talk to Muriel, who, though a serious person, was not one Alice was prepared to like, even at the behest of Comrade Andrew.
The few days that followed were the happiest she had known.
Usually, when Jasper was in tow - a phrase other people had used, not she - to a brother figure, like Bert, she saw little of him. But they were asking her to accompany them in everything they did. The cinema, more than once. The National Theatre - Bert said that Shakespeare had many lessons for the struggle, and they must learn to use everv weapon life offered them if they were not to be primitive Marxists. They spent an evening in a pub that Alice knew was chosen carefully by Jasper so as not to show her even a whisker of that other life of his. And not to show Bert, either...
But best of all, though they did not go slogan-painting, which was Alice's favourite, Jasper suggested a day's demonstrating. This he did, she knew, to please her, and to make up for his being away.
The discussions about where, and against whom, they would demonstrate were as agreeable as the expedition itself. Of course, in this fascistic stage of Britain's history, there could not be any lack of something to protest about; but it happened that the coming weekend would be rich in choice. The Defence Secretary was to speak in Liverpool, the Prime Minister in Milchester, and a certain fascistic American professor in London. His "line" - that the differences between human beings were genetically, not culturally determined - incensed, as was to be expected, the Women's Movement, and Faye became hysterical at the mention of his name. On the Friday evening, they sat around, after a good supper of Alice's soup and pizza, and talked about the next day.
The kitchen was mellow, alive. The jug on the little stool held tulips and lilacs. Reggie and Mary had contributed two bottles of red wine, about which Reggie - naturally - talked knowledgeably.
Although tomorrow it would be May, they seemed enclosed by a steady cold rain, and that made this scene, this company, even pleasanter. So Alice thought, smiling and grateful, although her heart ached. Her poor heart seemed to live a life of its own these days, refusing to be brought to heel by what she thought. But to linger there all evening, with good friends, was agreeable. For, since the party which had made them one, many of the stresses seemed to have gone.
Even Philip, who would be working all weekend and could not demonstrate with them, contributed useful thoughts. For instance, that the Greenpeace demo would have been his choice: it was only because of the efforts of Greenpeace that the government had had to admit the extent of the radioactive pollution; otherwise it would certainly have gone on lying about it. Reggie and Mary, bound tomorrow for Cumberland, liked this: what they felt had been said. For they - they could not prevent it from showing that they felt this - believed that demonstrating on specific issues, such as the spoiling of a coastline, was more effective than a general protest, like "shouting and screaming at Maggie Thatcher."
Thus showing what he felt about much of their politics, or at least their methods, Reggie did slightly chill the good humour, which was strong enough to let them tease the Greenpeace couple in a robust chorus of "ohhh"s and groans.
"That's right," said Mary, putting her hand into Reggie's for support; "you aren't going to change her ideas with a few boos. But facts will unlodge them."
"I agree," said Philip. It was an effort for him to do this - challenge the real power holders of the commune (as they were now calling it, not a squat). But he did it. He looked even frailer and smaller than he had before he started this new job. There was a peaky, sharpedged look to him. His eyes were red. But there was a tough, angry little look, too; he was being given a bad time at his work, which, said the Greek, his employer, went too slowly.