1984

           ‘Yes.’ 

           ‘Youturnleft,thenright,thenleftagain. Andthegate’sgotnotopbar.’ 

           ‘Yes.Whattime?’ 

           ‘Aboutfifteen. Youmayhavetowait. I’llgettherebyanotherway. Areyousureyouremembereverything?’ 

           ‘Yes.’ 

           ‘Thengetawayfrommeasquickasyoucan.’ 

           Sheneednothavetoldhimthat. Butforthemomenttheycouldnotextricatethemselvesfromthecrowd. Thetruckswerestillfilingpast,thepeoplestillinsatiablygaping. Atthestarttherehadbeenafewboosandhisses,butitcameonlyfromthePartymembersamongthecrowd,andhadsoonstopped. Theprevailingemotionwassimplycuriosity. Foreigners,whetherfromEurasiaorfromEastasia,wereakindofstrangeanimal. Oneliterallyneversawthemexceptintheguiseofprisoners,andevenasprisonersonenevergotmorethanamomentaryglimpseofthem. Nordidoneknowwhatbecameofthem,apartfromthefewwhowerehangedaswar-criminals:theotherssimplyvanished,presumablyintoforced-labourcamps. TheroundMogolfaceshadgivenwaytofacesofamoreEuropeantype,dirty,beardedandexhausted. FromoverscrubbycheekboneseyeslookedintoWinston’s,sometimeswithstrangeintensity,andflashedawayagain. Theconvoywasdrawingtoanend. Inthelasttruckhecouldseeanagedman,hisfaceamassofgrizzledhair,standinguprightwithwristscrossedinfrontofhim,asthoughhewereusedtohavingthemboundtogether.