III
On his way home Tommy stared out of the railway carriage window andwatched the rapidly retreating countryside. ‘I wonder,’ he said to himself,‘I really wonder. That old boy, he’s usually in the know. Knows things. Butwhat can there be that could matter now. It’s all in the past–I mean there’snothing, can’t be anything left from that war. Not nowadays.’ Then hewondered. New ideas had taken over–Common Market ideas. Somewhere,as it were behind his mind rather than in it, because there were grandsonsand nephews, new generations–younger members of families that had al-ways meant something, that had pull, had got positions of influence, ofpower because they were born who they were, and if by any chance theywere not loyal, they could be approached, could believe in new creeds¹ orin old creeds revived², whichever way you liked to think of it. England wasin a funny state, a different state from what it had been. Or was it reallyalways in the same state? Always underneath³ the smooth surface therewas some black mud. There wasn’t clear water down to the pebbles⁴, downto the shells, lying on the bottom of the sea. There was something moving,something sluggish⁵ somewhere, something that had to be found, sup-pressed. But surely not–surely not in a place like Hollowquay. Hollowquaywas a has-been if there ever was. Developed first as a fishing village andthen further developed as an English Riviera–and now a mere⁶ summer re-sort, crowded in August. Most people now preferred package trips abroad.

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