Then something else happened. Tommy, who had not left the shelter of his home since leaving the hospital, went with Marion to a political meeting to do with African independence. Afterwards there was a spontaneous demonstration in the street outside the London headquarters of the country in question. Marion and Tommy had followed the crowd, mostly students. There was skirmishing with the police. Tommy did not carry a white stick, there was no outward sign that he was blind. He did not ‘move along’ when told to do so, and was arrested. Marion, who had been separated from him for a few moments by the crowd, threw herself on the policeman, shrieking hysterically. They were taken to the police station with a dozen others. Next morning they were fined. The newspapers prominently displayed a story about the ‘wife of a well-known city financier’. And now Richard telephoned Molly, who, in her turn, refused to help him. ‘You wouldn’t lift a finger about Marion, you only care now because the newspapers are on the trail and might find out about Jean.’ So Richard telephoned Anna.

During this conversation Anna watched herself standing holding the telephone receiver, a small brittle smile on her face, while Richard and she exchanged the phrases of their hostility. She felt as if she were being willed to do this; as if no word that either she or Richard used could have been any different; and as if what they were saying was the exchange of maniacs.

He was incoherently angry: ‘It’s an absolute farce. Plotted it, that’s what you’ve done, to get your own back. African independence, what a farce! Spontaneous demonstration. You’ve sicked the communists on to Marion and she’s so innocent she doesn’t recognize one when she sees one. It’s all because you and Molly want to make a fool out of me.’

‘But of course that’s all it is, dear Richard.’

‘It’s your idea of a joke, company director’s wife turned red.’

‘Of course.’

‘And I’m going to see that you’re exposed.’

Anna was thinking: the reason why this is so frightening is that if this weren’t England, Richard’s anger would mean people losing their jobs, or going to prison, or being shot. Here he’s just a man in a bad temper, but he’s a reflection of something so terrible … and I stand here making feeble sarcasms.

She said, sarcastically: ‘My dear Richard, neither Marion nor Tommy planned this. They just drifted along with the crowd.’

‘Drifted along! Who do you think you are fooling?’