1984

           Therewasapeculiarsoftness,asofrainwater,inboththecolourandthetextureoftheglass. Attheheartofit,magnifiedbythecurvedsurface,therewasastrange,pink,convolutedobjectthatrecalledaroseoraseaanemone. 

           ‘Whatisit?’saidWinston,fascinated. 

           ‘That’scoral,thatis,’saidtheoldman. ‘ItmusthavecomefromtheIndianOcean. Theyusedtokindofembeditintheglass. Thatwasn’tmadelessthanahundredyearsago.More,bythelookofit.’ 

           ‘It’sabeautifulthing,’saidWinston. 

           ‘Itisabeautifulthing,’saidtheotherappreciatively. ‘Butthere’snotmanythat’dsaysonowadays. ’Hecoughed. ‘Now,ifitsohappenedthatyouwantedtobuyit,that’dcostyoufourdollars. Icanrememberwhenathinglikethatwouldhavefetchedeightpounds,andeightpoundswas—well,Ican’tworkitout,butitwasalotofmoney. Butwhocaresaboutgenuineantiquesnowadays—eventhefewthat’sleft?’ 

           Winstonimmediatelypaidoverthefourdollarsandslidthecovetedthingintohispocket. Whatappealedtohimaboutitwasnotsomuchitsbeautyastheairitseemedtopossessofbelongingtoanagequitedifferentfromthepresentone. Thesoft,rainwateryglasswasnotlikeanyglassthathehadeverseen. Thethingwasdoublyattractivebecauseofitsapparentuselessness,thoughhecouldguessthatitmustoncehavebeenintendedasapaperweight. Itwasveryheavyinhispocket,butfortunatelyitdidnotmakemuchofabulge. Itwasaqueerthing,evenacompromisingthing,foraPartymembertohaveinhispossession.