1984

           MrsParsonsbroughtthespanner. Winstonletoutthewateranddisgustedlyremovedtheclotofhumanhairthathadblockedupthepipe. Hecleanedhisfingersasbesthecouldinthecoldwaterfromthetapandwentbackintotheotherroom. 

           ‘Upwithyourhands! ’yelledasavagevoice. 

           Ahandsome,tough-lookingboyofninehadpoppedupfrombehindthetableandwasmenacinghimwithatoyautomaticpistol, whilehissmallsister,abouttwoyearsyounger,madethesamegesturewithafragmentofwood. Bothofthemweredressedintheblueshorts,greyshirts,andredneckerchiefswhichweretheuniformoftheSpies. Winstonraisedhishandsabovehishead,butwithanuneasyfeeling,soviciouswastheboy’sdemeanour,thatitwasnotaltogetheragame. 

           ‘You’reatraitor! ’yelledtheboy. ‘You’reathought-criminal! You’reaEurasianspy! I’llshootyou,I’llvaporizeyou,I’llsendyoutothesaltmines!’ 

           Suddenlytheywerebothleapingroundhim,shouting‘Traitor!’and‘Thought-criminal!’ thelittlegirlimitatingherbrotherineverymovement. Itwassomehowslightlyfrightening,likethegambollingoftigercubswhichwillsoongrowupintoman-eaters. Therewasasortofcalculatingferocityintheboy’seye,aquiteevidentdesiretohitorkickWinston andaconsciousnessofbeingverynearlybigenoughtodoso. Itwasagoodjobitwasnotarealpistolhewasholding,Winstonthought. 

           MrsParsons’eyesflittednervouslyfromWinstontothechildren,andbackagain. Inthebetterlightoftheliving-roomhenoticedwithinterestthatthereactuallywasdustinthecreasesofherface.