Free The Flame of Life by Alan Sillitoe Page B

perfectly natural to him, one being a counterweight to the other. There were times, of course, when the undercurrents common to both the House of Usher and that of Handley appeared to be working in the same direction, and this he sensed, and tried to steer clear of while feeling helpless against it.
    John’s Biblical exhortation to honour thy father and thy mother gave assistance in the right direction while lending an equal weight to John’s fervent lit-eyed Christ-like advocation of class warfare. Adam had always seen John as noble simply because he did not know any other word for it. He once asked him why he told them to respect their parents, and John answered: ‘Because they suffer. If a person does not suffer, he does not exist. Without suffering you lack imagination, intellect, endurance, and that persistent kindness to others which might eventually turn you into a civilised person.’
    To go deeply into the maxims of Uncle John made Adam uneasy. Now and again he went up to gaze at the priceless relics of his life. He had once met Cuthbert coming down from the room, and they had passed in silence. Adam thought that perhaps he had something in common with his elder brother Cuthbert after all, which opened new feelings in him while at the same time making him wary. He also wondered why Handley had stopped them visiting John’s room, and sensed it might be because he wanted – after all – to diminish the effect of his teaching on them. The idea was so appalling that he couldn’t believe it.
    Handley looked at him. Adam folded his thoughts away and smiled. Handley was about to start the meeting. They were ready to listen, and join in.

CHAPTER NINE
    â€˜The only thing that’s absolutely necessary, and therefore compulsory, in this community,’ Handley began, ‘is that everybody above the age of eighteen attend these meetings.’
    â€˜Hear, hear,’ said Adam.
    â€˜I don’t think that’s too much to ask,’ he went on, ‘considering the advantages it gives. Of course, there are one or two dead-heads who would prefer not to, though I don’t know where else they’d like to be. Probably nowhere, since if they don’t have any interest in this set-up, maybe they’d rather be off the world altogether.’
    â€˜Anyhow, it’s only once a month,’ he continued, ‘and if whoever I’m referring to – and they know who it is – can sit still on their arses for long enough, they might not find it so boring. But if, on the other hand, this disillusionment with the ideals of the community becomes more general, then we’ll release them from their misery, meaning that we’ll restrict these meetings to half a dozen people whose hearts are in it. The project might lose some of its pristine democratic qualities, but no one can blame me for that. At least I wouldn’t have the discouraging job of talking to vacant faces.’
    They listened. Nothing was what it seemed. No words were what they were spelled out to be. Words did not come out of the grave of a dictionary but were a voluble extension of the flesh in this organisation, a reality of mystification, not a means to an end but a way to a means to deceive anyone regarding what the end might finally be.
    Even Cuthbert and Ralph, who took such jibes as aimed at themselves, listened carefully, which made Handley feel better. The sound of Paul playing with the lawnmower, and the lazy good-natured growl of Eric Bloodaxe pawing his breakfast bones around the kennel, came from outside.
    â€˜And if it does happen’ – Handley spoke slowly so as to make his words cadenced and telling – ‘that some of you are no longer compelled to come to these gatherings, that does not mean that you’ll stop being members of the community.’
    Cuthbert stood, and looked squarely down the table: ‘Of course it damn well does.’
    Myra touched his arms,