“So apart from your own family, all you’ve got is one estranged brother? I can’t imagine how that would be. I’ve got four older brothers and two younger sisters. Then there’s cousins—we’re like our own glory trust.”
This was an opportune time to swing the conversation around. Donald did not miss it.
“Then why have you turned your back on them?”
Sarah-Kelly pulled a cold smile and attended to her pancakes and fried egg. She jabbed at the egg with her fork.
“So, you know,” she said. “We had a row. I couldn’t stay there, not for another second.”
She would not say anything more, so Donald prodded her.
“I can interrogate you, if you like.”
“Tie me down and whip me?” She pulled a mischievous face. “I’ve got a big problem in my life, Donald. That problem comes in the form of Prentice Wyston Nightminster.” She paused. “Or else, my own brother Bartram, although he’s got the whole business on his back, I shouldn’t be too hard on him. The problem is, to him women are just grub, bed and babies.”
“Why is Nightminster a problem?”
“Well... When I was young and foolish and he was old enough to know better, we went out together.”
“How young?”
“Sixteen.”
“And how old was he?”
“The far side of forty.”
“What did your old man have to say about it?”
“He practically pushed me into the sack with him—that’s how it is where I come from, Donald—girls hook new business partners and then produce boys. After about a year of what felt like high society to young me I woke up to where it was leading and cut loose to shelter with my old school friend Theresa here in Brent Cross. My family were furious. Fortunately they didn’t find me for more than two years and they’d cooled off by then. We had, as the saying goes, a rapprochement, except Nightminster never accepted what had happened. Either he’d changed or I was better at seeing people for what they are. Christ, does he have the smile of a serpent. Have you ever looked into his eyes? They’re so pitiless.” She shuddered, uttering an Ugh! “You know what? The main reason I went to Krossington’s Talent Court was to get away from him. When that Krossington passport arrived and took me to Oban, I was so pleased—I’d escaped! Four months later and I’m back here, no job, nothing. That was when Bartram started pushing me to marry Nightminster again to seal the alliance of the businesses. I tried another escape to Bloomsbury College. The problem is, it takes years of study to get a degree, and even then I’ll still just be some common little bint without pwopah diction.
“Anyway, what finally did it was when Nightminster proposed to me. I turned him down flat. He was so angry I thought he was going to murder me and Bartram was shouting at me, so I just walked into the night, I’d had enough. I earn shit here and live on a Theresa’s sofa... It’s my life at least. I’m in the National Party here in Brent Cross.”
“What do you do for them?”
“It’s this new thing called the Atrocity Commission. It’s looking into supposed crimes by glory officers. Personally, I think it’s just bollocks. Lawrence told me there were always stories about people losing it and massacring surplus. It was only a tiny minority. The glory trusts have strict rules about conduct—I should know! Whatever, it means a bit of extra cash and I’m getting to know more people in the Party. With a bit of luck, they’ll give me a job after I graduate.” She pulled a sad smile. “We’re destined to be on opposite sides, you and I.”
“Do you really believe in Banner’s vision that everyone live in stables and offer up their talents to a god-state?”
Sarah-Kelly became methodical in her slicing and forking-up of lunch, obviously pulling together thoughts she was not in the habit of expressing.
“On the surface, everyone goes along with it, seeing as if you want change, the National Party is the only wagon rolling. If it gained power, there’d have to be hard talk about what we’ve taken over and how we’re going to change it. You can’t just wipe the existing world away and pull up a new picture. I see his vision as a kind of ideal of equality to be steered towards but never reached, sort of a political rainbow.”
“I think he takes it literally.”
“Then he won’t stay in power.”
Donald could not conceive of any circumstances that would put the National Party in power, therefore the point was moot. Mainly, he was pleased Sarah-Kelly was strong-minded enough not to be merely a dupe.
The works siren wailed. The lunch hour was over.
“Will you be at Bloomsbury College this weekend?” Donald asked.
“I’ll be there a week on Saturday.”
“We do have delis and tea rooms in Bloomsbury, quite nice ones. Can I buy you lunch?”
She smiled up at him. It was a smile he thought about a great deal during the days to come.
*
The next morning, Donald experienced a rare occurrence, one not welcome to him—he ate breakfast with his wife Her Decency Lavinia.
“What are you actually doing these days, Donald?”
He suppressed the temptation to bat the question back at her. With her sovereign privileges, she was proud of doing damn-all.
“You needn’t worry. I’ve taken a slew of new cases since getting back from internment.” I’ve got Tanya all sweet again, dear girl, and things are back to normal. No, he did not really say that. “That’s on top of the steady gold TK’s put my way. He’s really been very supportive, all in all.”
“You’ve taken to sneaking out dressed like a footman. Why?”
He wondered who had told her that. Probably a chambermaid. It did not really matter. He could not hope to keep secrets from his own
