1984

           ‘They’reallovertheplace,’saidJuliaindifferentlyasshelaydownagain. ‘We’veevengottheminthekitchenatthehostel. SomepartsofLondonareswarmingwiththem. Didyouknowtheyattackchildren? Yes,theydo. Insomeofthesestreetsawomandaren’tleaveababyalonefortwominutes. It’sthegreathugebrownonesthatdoit. Andthenastythingisthatthebrutesalways——’ 

           ‘DON’TGOON!’saidWinston,withhiseyestightlyshut. 

           ‘Dearest!You’vegonequitepale. What’sthematter? Dotheymakeyoufeelsick?’ 

           ‘Ofallhorrorsintheworld—arat!’ 

           Shepressedherselfagainsthimandwoundherlimbsroundhim,asthoughtoreassurehimwiththewarmthofherbody. Hedidnotreopenhiseyesimmediately. Forseveralmomentshehadhadthefeelingofbeingbackinanightmarewhichhadrecurredfromtimetotimethroughouthislife. Itwasalwaysverymuchthesame. Hewasstandinginfrontofawallofdarkness,andontheothersideofittherewassomethingunendurable,somethingtoodreadfultobefaced. Inthedreamhisdeepestfeelingwasalwaysoneofself-deception,becausehedidinfactknowwhatwasbehindthewallofdarkness. Withadeadlyeffort,likewrenchingapieceoutofhisownbrain,hecouldevenhavedraggedthethingintotheopen. Healwayswokeupwithoutdiscoveringwhatitwas:butsomehowitwasconnectedwithwhatJuliahadbeensayingwhenhecuthershort. 

           ‘I’msorry,’hesaid,‘it’snothing. Idon’tlikerats,that’sall.’