Boyne.
"There's something going on," Jessie Bendall said, her kindly face puzzled and worried. "Something's rocking the boat."
"Somebody," corrected Bob Foley, who even now could almost he mistaken for his son. He had the same long nose, the same wiry strength, the same way of speaking. But Bob wasn't important; Rog was. "And I think the somebody is Rog Foley," Bob went on.
"I believe everyone overestimates Rog," Mary Bentley remarked. "He's always seemed a placid, straightforward sort of boy to me."
He's a devil," said Bob morosely. "You never know what he's up to."
"Let's stick to the main issues," said Jessie. "Pertwee is one of our big men. We always knew that. The trouble is, our life here isn't a struggle. There aren't emergencies. We don't need Pertwee."
"We haven't needed Pertwee for the last ten years or so, anyway," said Bentley. "We may need him again."
"Then," said Jessie, "do you say, Jim, that we must accept his marriage to Toni? Are we to break down Article Six? Do we admit we were wrong and -- "
"What the hell," said Kim Jackson abruptly. "We /were/ wrong. It was nonsense. I always said so."
Jessie and Mary and Bentley exchanged startled glances. Was this, then, going to be one of the attitudes to be reckoned with? Jackson, of course, had not always said so. In public, at any rate, he seldom said anything. Certainly nothing so forthright.
"It's not really so much a question of whether we were wrong or not," said Jessie carefully, "as whether we admit it. Whether we're being edged into admitting that some of the Constitution is wrong, and therefore possibly more of it -- "
"For chrissake," said Jackson loudly and unhelpfully. "If you try to cut stone with wood and it won't cut, do you go on trying and insisting it's got to cut?" He looked round challengingly, obviously certain he had put his finger right on the core of the matter.
"Toni isn't had," said Albert Cursiter eagerly, unaware that his contribution was hardly relevant. "She wouldn't do anything she thought was wrong."
Jessie caught Mary's eye and shook her head helplessly. She frowned at Brad, who was taking no part in the discussion. Brad merely grinned back.
"Rog /is/ bad," said Bob Foley gloomily. "Always been bad. I'm sure I don't blame his mother, but -- "
"What are we going to do," Jessie interrupted rather impatiently, "when Pertwee comes beck? Sooner or later he will. He's no hermit. Suppose he walks into Lemon tomorrow. What do we do? What do we say to him?"
"How about 'Hallo---see you're back'?" suggested Brad. "Why don't all you earnest people just let things work themselves out quietly?"
"Because they won't," snapped Jessie. "Sorry, Brad. Didn't mean to shout at you. But you seem to forget everyone isn't like you. If they were, we wouldn't have a government of any kind, and we wouldn't need it. Frankly, I don't think we'd get much done, either."
"Just a minute," said Mary. They listened, not only because she generally had something to say when she spoke, but because they liked her. It was said that even Tom Robertson liked Mary. "Hasn't Brad got a point there, Jessie? Let's stop going round in circles for a moment.
"What is the trouble, anyway? Tension, uneasiness. Old people and young people not pulling well together. Disagreement about our laws. The children growing up and wanting to change things. Didn't Jessie put her finger on the trouble when she said life here was easy? All of us here came from a world that was destroying itself. We're going on the basis that it /has/ destroyed itself by now. So we're afraid, frightened, worried. We feel we have a heavy responsibility.
"Aren't we just taking thins too seriously?"
She looked at each of them in turn. "Jessie was asking for a plan," she went on. "Here's one. Let us all, each of us independently, try to understand the young people better and win their confidence. Just that."
Jessie frowned, unsatisfied. Jim Bentley pursed his lips, apparently not entirely satisfied
"There's something going on," Jessie Bendall said, her kindly face puzzled and worried. "Something's rocking the boat."
"Somebody," corrected Bob Foley, who even now could almost he mistaken for his son. He had the same long nose, the same wiry strength, the same way of speaking. But Bob wasn't important; Rog was. "And I think the somebody is Rog Foley," Bob went on.
"I believe everyone overestimates Rog," Mary Bentley remarked. "He's always seemed a placid, straightforward sort of boy to me."
He's a devil," said Bob morosely. "You never know what he's up to."
"Let's stick to the main issues," said Jessie. "Pertwee is one of our big men. We always knew that. The trouble is, our life here isn't a struggle. There aren't emergencies. We don't need Pertwee."
"We haven't needed Pertwee for the last ten years or so, anyway," said Bentley. "We may need him again."
"Then," said Jessie, "do you say, Jim, that we must accept his marriage to Toni? Are we to break down Article Six? Do we admit we were wrong and -- "
"What the hell," said Kim Jackson abruptly. "We /were/ wrong. It was nonsense. I always said so."
Jessie and Mary and Bentley exchanged startled glances. Was this, then, going to be one of the attitudes to be reckoned with? Jackson, of course, had not always said so. In public, at any rate, he seldom said anything. Certainly nothing so forthright.
"It's not really so much a question of whether we were wrong or not," said Jessie carefully, "as whether we admit it. Whether we're being edged into admitting that some of the Constitution is wrong, and therefore possibly more of it -- "
"For chrissake," said Jackson loudly and unhelpfully. "If you try to cut stone with wood and it won't cut, do you go on trying and insisting it's got to cut?" He looked round challengingly, obviously certain he had put his finger right on the core of the matter.
"Toni isn't had," said Albert Cursiter eagerly, unaware that his contribution was hardly relevant. "She wouldn't do anything she thought was wrong."
Jessie caught Mary's eye and shook her head helplessly. She frowned at Brad, who was taking no part in the discussion. Brad merely grinned back.
"Rog /is/ bad," said Bob Foley gloomily. "Always been bad. I'm sure I don't blame his mother, but -- "
"What are we going to do," Jessie interrupted rather impatiently, "when Pertwee comes beck? Sooner or later he will. He's no hermit. Suppose he walks into Lemon tomorrow. What do we do? What do we say to him?"
"How about 'Hallo---see you're back'?" suggested Brad. "Why don't all you earnest people just let things work themselves out quietly?"
"Because they won't," snapped Jessie. "Sorry, Brad. Didn't mean to shout at you. But you seem to forget everyone isn't like you. If they were, we wouldn't have a government of any kind, and we wouldn't need it. Frankly, I don't think we'd get much done, either."
"Just a minute," said Mary. They listened, not only because she generally had something to say when she spoke, but because they liked her. It was said that even Tom Robertson liked Mary. "Hasn't Brad got a point there, Jessie? Let's stop going round in circles for a moment.
"What is the trouble, anyway? Tension, uneasiness. Old people and young people not pulling well together. Disagreement about our laws. The children growing up and wanting to change things. Didn't Jessie put her finger on the trouble when she said life here was easy? All of us here came from a world that was destroying itself. We're going on the basis that it /has/ destroyed itself by now. So we're afraid, frightened, worried. We feel we have a heavy responsibility.
"Aren't we just taking thins too seriously?"
She looked at each of them in turn. "Jessie was asking for a plan," she went on. "Here's one. Let us all, each of us independently, try to understand the young people better and win their confidence. Just that."
Jessie frowned, unsatisfied. Jim Bentley pursed his lips, apparently not entirely satisfied
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