La's Orchestra Saves the World by Alexander McCall Smith Read Free Book Online Page B

pull back from something that brought with it a risk of their destruction. Or would they?
    The voice on the radio caught her attention. It was another poet. “War seems inevitable to me,” he was saying, “because the monster of fascism can survive only if it has people to devour. There is no dealing with such a creed. To talk is a sign of weakness which will be pounced upon. To negotiate is to expose one’s fear. The only hope for us is to become strong; for trade-unionists and workers to assert themselves and to make sure that the country allies itself with the great progressive forces of our modern world—and by that I mean the Soviet Union. Sooner or later the working people of Germany and Spain will rise up and defeat their oppressors. That’s the way to avoid war. The dictators will fall at the hands of their own people.”
    She went to bed. The sheets smelled strongly of lavender, a soporific smell; and she was tired from the trip, so sleep overtook her quickly. It was so quiet; that surprised her, as she was used to the constant background noise of London, the distant rumble of trains, the sound of traffic, the noise of millions of people breathing—even that must create a background of sound. Here there was nothing, just the occasional creaking of the house and a scurrying sound of mice or some other small creatures across the roof or in the attic above her head.
    She awoke in the night, disoriented, and it took her a few seconds to remember where she was. She switched on her bedside lamp, and looked about her; her door was open—had she left it like that? She got out of bed and pushed it shut. She had locked the front door before she had turned in; would Mrs. Agg censure her for that, she wondered, or was one meant to leave one’s door open at night as well?
    The following morning, La walked down to Mrs. Agg’s farm. Agg himself was not there, but she saw a man in the distance, in a field where sheep were kept, and that was Agg. Mrs. Agg was happy enough to sell La a large packet of seed potatoes. “Late-growing,” she said. “You will still have time to plant these and to harvest them in the late autumn, before the ground becomes hard.” She paused. “Why is a young person like you shutting herself away in that house? Sorry to ask.”
    La thought for a moment before replying. “My husbandran away with another woman, Mrs. Agg. I was very unhappy. I felt that I wanted to get away.”
    Mrs. Agg nodded. “I thought it was something like that. Any woman who’s unhappy—look for the cause and it’ll be a man.”
    “So here I am,” said La.
    La cleared a patch of vegetable garden. The long roots of the weeds yielded only under protest, clinging to the soil, and it was hard work. But by late afternoon she had two freshly turned mounds of earth in which the potatoes could be planted. It was good soil; clay loam. I shall not starve, she thought. Whatever happens in the world, I shall not starve here in this quiet corner of England.

Six
    A FEW DAYS LATER , La drove to Bury in the car that she had bought for sixty-five pounds from the garage-man, Mr. Granger. It was an Austin Seven, a small car painted in dark green with a hood that could be taken down in fine weather. La kept the hood on that day, as she was not sure how to operate the mechanism that released it; Mr. Granger had shown her, but she had forgotten; there were levers which had to be pushed a particular way, this way or that, she could not remember. There was quite enough air, though, from the wound-down windows to give the feeling of being in the open.
    La had some experience of driving, even if not a great deal. Richard had owned a car, which she had taken out from time to time when she went to play tennis in Richmond. She realised now that she had no idea what had happened to that car. Perhaps it had been left at the office, butnothing had been said, and she did not want to ask. Perhaps he had taken it on the boat with him to France;