1984

Chapter 7

           Itwasamemorythathemusthavedeliberatelypushedoutofhisconsciousnessovermanyyears. Hewasnotcertainofthedate,buthecouldnothavebeenlessthantenyearsold,possiblytwelve,whenithadhappened. 

           Hisfatherhaddisappearedsometimeearlier,howmuchearlierhecouldnotremember. Herememberedbettertherackety,uneasycircumstancesofthetime:theperiodicalpanicsaboutair-raidsandtheshelteringinTubestations,thepilesofrubbleeverywhere, theunintelligibleproclamationspostedatstreetcorners,thegangsofyouthsinshirtsallthesamecolour,theenormousqueuesoutsidethebakeries,theintermittentmachine-gunfireinthedistance—aboveall,thefactthattherewasneverenoughtoeat. Herememberedlongafternoonsspentwithotherboysinscroungingrounddustbinsandrubbishheaps, pickingouttheribsofcabbageleaves,potatopeelings,sometimesevenscrapsofstalebreadcrustfromwhichtheycarefullyscrapedawaythecinders; andalsoinwaitingforthepassingoftruckswhichtravelledoveracertainrouteandwereknowntocarrycattlefeed,andwhich,whentheyjoltedoverthebadpatchesintheroad,sometimesspiltafewfragmentsofoil-cake. 

           Whenhisfatherdisappeared,hismotherdidnotshowanysurpriseoranyviolentgrief,butasuddenchangecameoverher. Sheseemedtohavebecomecompletelyspiritless. ItwasevidenteventoWinstonthatshewaswaitingforsomethingthatsheknewmusthappen. Shedideverythingthatwasneeded—cooked,washed,mended,madethebed,sweptthefloor,dustedthemantelpiece—alwaysveryslowlyandwithacuriouslackofsuperfluousmotion,likeanartist’slay-figuremovingofitsownaccord. 

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