Free Merely Players by J. M. Gregson Page B

natives. Nowadays, we’ve lost that. No one pretends mixing’s easy with the numbers involved, but it’s the only thing which will work in the long term.’
    He was interrupted by a voice from the National Front group. ‘It’s not us as won’t bloody mix, Peach! We had to pass under that damn great arch over the road to get here tonight. Told us we were entering the Paki ghetto, that did!’
    â€˜There are religious reasons for that arch!’ a Muslim voice from his left on the platform reminded him.
    Peach held up his hands as the shouting around the hall threatened to get out of hand. ‘I know there are, but there are political reasons as well. I agree with our young friend on that arch. It’s the wrong sort of symbol. It’s crystallizing the very divisions we are saying tonight that we want to abolish. The children of Brunton are being educated together, going out from school into a common world. We should be working to break down barriers, not erecting new ones.’
    He was surprised at how hard he was breathing. A voice from his left whispered, ‘Easy, Peach!’ and for once he was glad of Tucker’s intervention.
    The National Front leader was on his feet now, full of righteous indignation. ‘These bastards are trying to blast everything we stand for to kingdom come! And you’re asking us to lie back and take it!’
    The man’s violent words reminded Peach of a poem from his past, proclaiming that in dangerous times,
    â€˜The best lack all conviction, while the worst
    Are full of passionate intensity.’
    Yeats, he thought. And what an appropriate and prophetic summary of the thirties and the rise of fascism. But that didn’t matter now. He felt the charged atmosphere in the hall and forced himself to be calm, to speak quietly, to avoid reducing himself to a yeller of meaningless slogans. ‘This is an important time for all of us, for Christians and for Muslims, for atheists and for agnostics. I, along with everyone on this platform tonight, am appealing for calm and for reason. With all their faults, this country, and this town within it, are places which are worth preserving: places where we want to live in peace alongside each other. The National Front voice we have just heard is determined on a violent reaction to the changes we see around us. There is also a tiny minority of Muslim people who are interested in furthering an ideology by violent means. There may even be some such people in this hall tonight. If anyone knows of cells of terrorism, I urge them to declare their knowledge to the police. We need the cooperation of the Muslims in our community to eliminate this murderous violence. I cannot urge too strongly that all people with moderate views should help the rest of their communities by declaring any knowledge of planned murder and mayhem at the earliest possible moment!’
    Peach had surprised himself by the rising volume and passion of his speech. He had intended when he came here to listen and scarcely speak at all, but the combination of the National Front faction and the startling presence and brave words from Lucy’s mother had roused him. The cynical, worldly-wise policeman was his preferred stance, but the words from a sturdy woman who could scarcely have spoken in public before had brought a compulsion in him to support her. Remarkably, his words seemed to have worked. There was sporadic applause from his largely Asian audience. Some of it was no more than politeness, but there were pockets of genuine enthusiasm, much of it among the older sections.
    A bearded man in the front row rose to his feet and turned to face the mass of people. He was obviously known to most of them; they fell instantly silent. ‘What the officer says is right. If we want to be a part of the community, an integrated part, we have to denounce terrorism and the fanatics who use it. There may be people in this hall tonight who are