And so now it was the summer of 1968, and four years had passed.
It was a weekend. Neither Andrew nor Sylvia had gone off for a holiday, they were studying. Colin had come home and said he was going to write a novel. Julia had said, not in his hearing, though it had been reported to him: ‘Of course! The occupation for failures!' — so that first requisite for beginning novelists, discouragement from their nearest and dearest, had been provided, though Frances was careful to be non-committal, and Andrew whimsical.
Johnny telephoned to say he was going to drop in. ‘No, don't bother to cook, we will have eaten. ' This astounding bit of cheek was, Frances decided — while her blood pressure shot up, and subsided — probably merely Johnny's idea of being ingratiating. Intriguing, that ' they' . He could not mean Stella, who was in the States. She had gone off to join in the great battles that would end the worst of discrimination against black people in the South, and had become known for her bravery and her organisational skills. Threatened with the end ofher visitor's visa, she had married an American, ringing up Johnny to say it was only for form's sake, he must understand it was her revolutionary duty. She would be back when the battle had been won. Meanwhile, rumours flowing from across the Atlantic said that this marriage for form's sake was going along well, better than her sojourn with Johnny, which had been a bit of a disaster. She was much younger than Johnny, at first had been in awe of him, but had soon learned to see with her own eyes. She had had plenty of time for reflection, because she had found herself alone while he went to meetings and off on delegations to comradely countries.
Johnny would have liked to join the big American battles, he yearned after them like a child not invited to a party, but he could not get a visa. He allowed it to be understood that was because of his Spanish Civil War record. But soon there was France, and he was on each battlefront as it came into the news. But the events of '68 were in fact chastening for him. Everywhere were new young heroes, and their bibles were new ones too. Johnny had had to do a lot of reading.
He was not the only Old Guard who found himself returning to refresh himself at the pages of the Communist Manifesto. 'Now that's revolutionary writing,' he might murmur.
In France every hero had a group of girls who served him, they were all sleeping together, because of the new plank in the revolutionary platform – sexual freedom. There were no girls courting Johnny. He was seen not only as English, but as elderly. Nineteen sixty-eight, which would be remembered by hundreds of thousands of politicos who had taken part in the street fighting, the confrontations with the police, the stone-throwing, the running battles, the building of barricades, the sexual free-for-all, as the glittering peak of their youthful achievements, was not a year that Johnny was going to enjoy thinking about.
Seeing that Stella had no intention of coming back to him, he had returned to the flat vacated by Phyllida, which became a kind of commune, home for revolutionaries from everywhere, some dodging the Vietnam War, many from South America, and he usually had African politicians staying with him.
When Johnny arrived, the kitchen at once seemed over-full, and the three sitting at the table eating their supper felt themselves as dull and lacking in colour, for the newcomers were elated and full of vigour, having just come from a meeting. Comrade Mo and Johnny were enjoying a joke, and now Comrade Mo said to Frances, embracing her, 'Danny Cohn-Bendit has said that we won't have socialism until the last capitalist has been hanged with the guts of the last bureaucrat.'
Franklin – she had not immediately recognised this large young man in a good suit – said to the black man with him, 'This is Frances, I told you about her, she was a mother to me. This is Comrade Matthew, Frances. He is our leader. '
‘I am honoured to meet you,’ said Comrade Matthew, unsmiling, formal, in the older style of the comrades, when Lenin-like severity had been the mode. (And would be again, quite soon.) It was easy to see he was ill at ease, and didn't like being here. He stood unsmiling, and even glanced at his watch, while Franklin was being greeted by ' the kids' , now grown up. He stood in front of Sylvia, who had risen, hesitating, then she opened her arms for a hug, and he closed his eyes in the embrace, and when he opened them they were full of tears.
' Sit down,’ said Andrew, and pulled up chairs from where they were stacked around the wall. Comrade Matthew sat down, frowning: he looked at his watch again.
Comrade Mo, who since he had been here last had gone to China to bless the Cultural Revolution (as he had the Great Leap Forward and Let Every Flower Bloom), was now lecturing at universities around the world on its benefits for China and all humanity. Now he sat down, and reached for some bread.
Franklin said to Frances, ' Comrade Matthew is my cousin. '
‘We are of the same tribe,’ said the older man, correcting him.
‘Ah, but you must understand, tribe sounds backward,’ said Franklin. He was evidently a little frightened of confronting the leader.
‘I am aware that cousin is the English term. '
They were all seated now except Johnny, who said to his sons, 'Did you hear, Danny Cohn-Bendit has just said that...' This threatened to send Comrade Mo off again into his fits of Ho, ho, ho, and Frances said, 'We heard the first time. Poor boy, he had a terrible childhood. German father... French mother... no money...hewasawarbaby...shehadtobring up the children alone.’Yes, she was definitely doing it on purpose, while she smiled amiably, and first Andrew, then Colin, laughed, and Johnny said, annoyed, ‘I am afraid my wife has never had even the beginnings of an understanding of politics.'
‘Your ex-wife,’ said Frances. ' Many times removed. '
' These are my sons,’ said Johnny, and Andrew picked up his wine glass and emptied it, while Colin said, ‘We have that privilege.'
The three black men seemed discommoded, but then Comrade Mo, who had been at large in the wide world for a decade or so, laughed heartily and said, ‘My wife blames me too. She does not understand that the Struggle must come before family obligations. '
' Does she ever see you, I wonder?' enquired Frances.
‘And is she pleased when she does?' enquired Colin.
Comrade Mo looked hard at Colin but saw only a smiling face. ' It is my children, ' he said, shaking his head. ' That is so hard for me – When I see them sometimes I hardly recognise them.'
Meanwhile Sylvia was making coffee and placing cake and biscuits on the table. It was clear that the guests had expected more. As she had done so often, Frances fetched out everything there was in the fridge, and the remains of their own meal, and put it all on the table.
‘Oh, do sit down,’ she said to Johnny. He sat, with dignity, and began serving himself.
‘You haven't asked after Phyllida,’ said Sylvia. ‘You didn't ask how my mother is. '
‘Yes,’ said Frances, ‘I was wondering about that too. '
‘I’m coming to that in a minute,’ said Johnny.
Franklin said, 'When Johnny said he was coming to see you tonight, I had to see you all again. I'll never forget your kindness to me.'
‘Have you been back home?' Frances asked. ‘You didn'tgo to university after all. '
' The university of life,’ said Franklin.
Johnny said, ' Frances, you do not ask the black leadership what they are doing, not now. Even you must see that. '
‘No,’ said Comrade Matthew. ' This is not the time to ask that. ' Then he said, ‘We must not forget that I am to address a meeting in an hour. '
Comrades Johnny and Franklin and Mo began pushing in their food, as fast as they could, but Comrade Matthew had finished: he was a frugal eater, one of those who eat because one must.