Free The Longest Pleasure by Christopher Nicole

dear one. Do you know what will happen to me when I leave here? I shall change my clothes and my passport in Vienna, and I shall fly to Heathrow. I shall be wearing mink, and the car that meets me will be a Rolls. Those are the things you get for marrying a man twice your age. And, besides, Jonathan is a very understanding man. He knows I must get away, be amongst people of my own age. He accepts it At this moment he imagines I am sharing my bed with half a dozen Italian gigolos, and he does not resent it. In many ways he is a treasure.'
    'And instead of doing what he expects, you come here, and risk the Avo. You are a fool, Kirstie.'
    Kirsten Moeller sat up. "Yes,' she said. ‘I come to see you, in Budapest But not only because I love you, you know. You provide me with a perfect bolt-hole.' She took off her raincoat, rolled it into a ball, threw it on the floor, kicked her shoes behind it. 'I could drink a gallon of coffee.'
    Irena rolled off the bed ? lit the gas under the kettle. To resist Kirsten was impossible. And now she knew that to explain to Kirsten was also impossible. 'Why did you come last night?'
    'Because I was informed that there was going to be a student meeting. We talked all night And a delegation went to the Central Committee.'
    'How long will you stay?'
    'A week, at least'
    Irena turned. 'A wee k?’
    'It's going to happen, Irena. Now. Tomorrow, maybe. Haven't you been listening to the radio?'
    'Sometimes.' Irena stirred coffee, thoughtfully. 'I know Rakosi is gone.'
    'That! That is a put-on, by Gero and that bunch. They will seek to hoodwink you. You, Irena. You are Magyar. You sometimes forget that, I think.'
    Irena sat on the bed, her hands dangling between her knees. 'So what are you going to do about it?'
    Kirsten drank, noisily. She was more tired than she seemed, than she would admit 'We wish our demands broadcast to the nation. The Central Committe e refused.'
    'What did you expect?'
    ‘ Nothing else. But we are not going to let them get away with that . We are going to keep up the pressure. We are going to demonstrate. This afternoon we are meeting at the Petofi statue. And do you know who is going to be there? Adam Wazyk.'
    ‘ Who is Adam Wazyk?'
    Kirsten sighed. 'Sometimes I worry for you, Irena. Wazyk is a poet The poet, of this moment Have you never read Poem for Adults?’
    'I have heard of it'
    ‘ Well, that is Adam Wazyk. He is going to address the students, and then we are going to present our demands again. And do you know what? The Central Committee have refused to allow us to meet'
    'Again, what did you expect?'
    'Again, dear one, nothing less. But we are going to meet, anyway. There will be thousands of us. Hundreds of thousands of us.'
    'Us?' Irena asked.
    Kirsten placed the empty c up on the table beside the bed.
    'What is the matter with you? You are behaving very strangely this morning. You, then, if you prefer it. You Hungarians. But you have to be shown the way. Without people like me you would do nothing. You would spend your lives wallowing under the communist tyranny, happy to pick up whatever crumbs they drop in your way.'
    Irena Szen took off her stocking. 'I am going back to bed. You don't have to make speeches at me, sweetheart.'
    'At you more than anyone,' Kirsten Moeller insisted. 'You, even with me to help you, wallow more than most, Sometimes I am ashamed of you. Are you going to come with me to the demonstration? I will be speaking.'
    'I would rather stay here.'
    'Then will you cook me some breakfast?'
    'Certainly. And I will wish you good luck.'
    Kirsten stood behind Irena as she took out the loaf of black bread. She put her arms around Irena's waist, clicked her tongue as she was shrugged away. 'And you will not tell me what is troubling you? Are you ill ?'
    You. You are troubling me. It is all very well for you. This agitation, provocation, is your hobby. As you say, you are going home to your big car and your fur coat. But you are playing with lives here. With