Doris Lessing Three-Book Edition: The Golden Notebook, The Grass is Singing, The Good Terrorist. Doris Lessing

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СКАЧАТЬ that act of deciding to inherit a position. Richard then married Marion, a very young, warm, pleasant, quiet girl, daughter of a moderately distinguished family. They had three sons.

      Meanwhile Molly, talented in so many directions, danced a little but she really did not have the build for a ballerina; did a song and dance act in a revue—decided it was too frivolous; took drawing lessons, gave them up when the war started when she worked as a journalist; gave up journalism to work in one of the cultural outworks of the Communist Party; left for the same reason everyone of her type did—she could not stand the deadly boredom of it; became a minor actress, and had reconciled herself, after much unhappiness, to the fact that she was essentially a dilettante. Her source of self-respect was that she had not—as she put it—given up and crawled into safety somewhere. Into a safe marriage.

      And her secret source of uneasiness was Tommy, over whom she had fought a years-long battle with Richard. He was particularly disapproving because she had gone away for a year, leaving the boy in her house, to care for himself.

      He now said, resentful: ‘I’ve seen a good deal of Tommy during the last year, when you left him alone…’

      She interrupted with: ‘I keep explaining, or trying to—I thought it all out and decided it would be good for him to be left. Why do you always talk as if he were a child? He was over nineteen, and I left him in a comfortable house, with money, and everything organized.’

      ‘Why don’t you admit you had a whale of a good time junketing all over Europe, without Tommy to tie you?’

      ‘Of course I had a good time, why shouldn’t I?’

      Richard laughed, loudly and unpleasantly, and Molly said, impatient, ‘Oh for God’s sake, of course I was glad to be free for the first time since I had a baby. Why not? And what about you—you have Marion, the good little woman, tied hand and foot to the boys while you do as you like—and there’s another thing. I keep trying to explain and you never listen. I don’t want him to grow up one of these damned mother-ridden Englishmen. I wanted him to break free of me. Yes, don’t laugh, but it wasn’t good, the two of us together in this house, always so close and knowing everything the other one did.’

      Richard grimaced with annoyance and said, ‘Yes, I know your little theories on this point.’

      At which Anna came in with: ‘It’s not only Molly—all the women I know—I mean, the real women, worry that their sons are going to grow up like…they’ve got good reason to worry.’

      At this Richard turned hostile eyes on Anna; and Molly watched the two of them sharply.

      ‘Like what, Anna?’

      ‘I would say,’ said Anna, deliberately sweet, ‘just a trifle unhappy about their sex lives? Or would you say that’s putting it too strongly, hmmmm?’

      Richard flushed, a dark ugly flush, and turned back to Molly, saying to her: ‘All right, I’m not saying you deliberately did something you shouldn’t.’

      ‘Thank you.’

      ‘But what the hell’s wrong with the boy? He never passed an exam decently, he wouldn’t go to Oxford, and now he sits around, brooding and…’

      Both Anna and Molly laughed out, at the word brooding.

      ‘The boy worries me,’ said Richard. ‘He really does.’

      ‘He worries me,’ said Molly reasonably. ‘And that’s what we’re going to discuss, isn’t it?’

      ‘I keep offering him things. I invite him to all kinds of things where he’d meet people who’d do him good.’

      Molly laughed again.

      ‘All right, laugh and sneer. But things being as they are, we can’t afford to laugh.’

      ‘When you said, do him good, I imagined good emotionally. I always forget you’re such a pompous little snob.’

      ‘Words don’t hurt anyone,’ said Richard, with unexpected dignity. ‘Call me names if you like. You’ve lived one way, I’ve lived another. All I’m saying is, I’m in a position to offer that boy—well, anything he likes. And he’s simply not interested. If he were doing anything constructive with your lot, it’d be different.’

      ‘You always talk as if I try to put Tommy against you.’

      ‘Of course you do.’

      ‘If you mean, that I’ve always said what I thought about the way you live, your values, your success game, that sort of thing, of course I have. Why should I be expected to shut up about everything I believe in? But I’ve always said, there’s your father, you must get to know that world, it exists, after all.’

      ‘Big of you.’

      ‘Molly’s always urging him to see more of you,’ said Anna. ‘I know she has. And so have I.’

      Richard nodded impatiently, suggesting that what they said was unimportant.

      ‘You’re so stupid about children, Richard. They don’t like being split,’ said Molly. ‘Look at the people he knows with me—artists, writers, actors and so on.’

      ‘And politicians. Don’t forget the comrades.’

      ‘Well, why not? He’ll grow up knowing something about the world he lives in, which is more than you can say about your three—Eton and Oxford, it’s going to be, for all of them. Tommy knows all kinds. He won’t see the world in terms of the little fishpond of the upper class.’

      Anna said: ‘You’re not going to get anywhere if you two go on like this.’ She sounded angry; she tried to right it with a joke: ‘What it amounts to is, you two should never have married, but you did, or at least you shouldn’t have had a child, but you did—’ Her voice sounded angry again, and again she softened it, saying, ‘Do you realize you two have been saying the same things over and over for years? Why don’t you accept that you’ll never agree about anything and be done with it?’

      ‘How can we be done with it when there’s Tommy to consider?’ said Richard, irritably, very loud.

      ‘Do you have to shout?’ said Anna. ‘How do you know he hasn’t heard every word? That’s probably what’s wrong with him. He must feel such a bone of contention.’

      Molly promptly went to the door, opened it, listened. ‘Nonsense, I can hear him typing upstairs.’ She came back saying, ‘Anna, you make me tired when you get English and tight-lipped.’

      ‘I hate loud voices.’

      ‘Well I’m Jewish and I like them.’

      Richard again visibly suffered. ‘Yes—and you call yourself Miss Jacobs. Miss. In the interests of your right to independence and your own identity—whatever that might mean. But Tommy has Miss Jacobs for a mother.’

      ‘It’s not the miss you object to,’ said Molly cheerfully. ‘It’s the Jacobs. Yes it is. You always were anti-semitic.’

      ‘Oh hell,’ said Richard, impatient.

      ‘Tell me, how many СКАЧАТЬ