took stock of her situation. One should not give lifts to a stranger; that was now an elementary precaution, which anybody would be considered very unwise to ignore. The days of hitchhikers standing by the roadside seemed to be well and truly over, such was the distrust that prevailed. Everybody was a potential assailant; nobody spoke to one another for fear of being misinterpreted; nobody comforted another, put an arm around a shoulder—to do so would be to invite accusation. And yet here I am, thought Barbara, picking up a man whose name I don’t even know, allowing him to get into the car, and driving off to London. Anything could happen.
She reached for the key in the ignition. The simplest thing to do, the safest thing, would be to start the engine and drive out while he was fetching his bag. She turned the key and the engine sprang to life.
43. Terence’s Battery Has a Near-Death Experience
“I CAN’T START IT,” said Terence Moongrove, coming back into the kitchen where his sister, Berthea Snark, was reading a newspaper.
Terence’s Morris Traveller had been towed back to the house the previous evening by the proprietor of a local garage, who, knowing the car well, had encountered it on the roadside and returned it to its home while Terence and Berthea were having dinner. He had refused payment, an act of kindness that had deeply impressed Berthea.
“That sort of thing would never happen in London,” she said. “Nobody would be that kind.”
“Oh, I’m sure that people in London are as kind as anywhere else,” said Terence. “They just don’t have the time to show it.”
“I doubt it,” said Berthea. “Too many people. It changes one’s attitude to others. Simple social psychology. Put a whole lot of rats in a cage and they fight. Put one or two in and they get along reasonably well.”
Terence looked doubtful. “Are you sure about that? I mean, about people? I can understand about rats—nasty, long-tailed creatures. And those teeth! Have you seen their teeth, Berthy? They’ve got long, slightly curved teeth, like that. Jolly sharp, I imagine.” He paused. “But people? Do they really fight just because there’s a lot of them in the same space? Look at the Japanese. Their cities are jolly full of people. Have you seen the pictures of their train stations? They have these men who wear white gloves and push people into the carriages so that the doors can close. What a horrible job, Berthy—I wouldn’t do it for a hundred pounds. I really wouldn’t.
“Yet the Japanese don’t fight with one another,” Terence went on. “They behave terribly well. Japanese cities are not like our cities at night—with all that shouting and heaven knows what. And—”
“That’s alcohol,” Berthea interjected. “And the Japanese have manners. They’re very particular about how to behave and that means that everybody gets on very well with one another even in a confined space. Manners, Terence. Something we’re losing sight of. We laugh at people who bow to one another but the bow is an act of respect, and respect leads to considerate behaviour. We could learn a lot from the Japanese. In particular, we could learn how to live harmoniously in crowded spaces. We could learn about territory.”
Terence thought about this. “We must rise above the territorial,” he said. “Obviously our territory is finite, and we will find ourselves contesting it. But if we project ourselves onto another, altogether higher plane, then physical territory will matter much less.”
Berthea pursed her lips. “Not everyone,” she said, “can exist on a higher plane. I, for example—”
“But you could!” interrupted Terence. “You really could, Berthy! You need to try, that’s all.”
Berthea sighed. “What you describe as a higher plane, Terence, is probably just a slightly altered mental state. A dissociative state, I’d say. Anybody can experience that.”
Terence looked out of the window. “You can’t say that. You’re just reducing it to a matter of brain chemistry. It’s more than that.”
“You’re wrong,” said Berthea. “I am not a reductionist in that way. If I were, I can assure you that I would not be a psychoanalyst. All I’m pointing out to you is that there are dissociative states of mind that can be mistaken for something else. A state of religious ecstasy might involve dissociation. Or even the state of mind that one is in when one is driving and suddenly realises that one has covered quite some distance and not really been aware of it.”
She realised that the motoring