This almost total lack of physical activity would have made us weak, but we forced ourselves to do exercises every day, which was the most boring thing in the world, but even I put up with it because I realised it was necessary. Once or twice a woman was ilclass="underline" a thermometer was included in the supplies and the whip made it clear that she was to take her temperature. Medicine would arrive if she was feverish. We seem to have been in rather good health. What with the food and the continuous lighting and heating, we must have been costing someone or something a lot of money, but we didn’t know why they were going to so much trouble. In their previous lives, the women had worked, borne children and made love. All I knew was that these things were greatly valued. What use were we here?
I was taken aback by my thoughts. Suddenly, the secret that was being denied me and the one I didn’t want to share seemed to be of little worth compared with that of the guards: what were we doing here, and why were we being kept alive?
I went over to Anthea who had always been the least hostile towards me. She smiled at me.
‘Well, have you come to tell me your secret?’
I gave an irritable shrug.
‘Don’t be as stupid as the others,’ I said. ‘Look at them. They’re pretending, they behave as though they still have some control over their lives and make momentous decisions about which vegetable to cook first. What are we doing here?’
Anthea looked wary. ‘What do you mean?’
‘We can’t talk about that either! You spend your time kidding yourself that you know things, and you’re using me, who doesn’t know a thing, to convince yourself of your superiority! No one has any idea why we are being so carefully guarded and you’re afraid to think about it.’
‘Don’t always talk about us as a group.’
‘Well, let’s talk about you. Answer me with your own thoughts. If you have any.’
We’re not allowed to hit one another, but if we talk calmly and don’t allow our expressions to betray anger, we can exchange cutting words.
‘What’s the use of talking about it? It won’t make any difference.’
‘There you go again with your stupidity! As if talking only served to make things happen. Talking is existing. Look: they know that, they talk for hours on end about nothing.’
‘But will talking teach us anything about what we’re doing here? You have no more idea than I or any of the rest of us do.’
‘True, but I’ll know what you think, you’ll know what I think, and perhaps that will spark off a new idea, and then we’ll feel as if we’re behaving like human beings rather than robots.’
She put down the piece of fabric she was sewing with plaited hairs and folded her hands on her knees.
‘Is that what you’re doing, when you sit alone with your eyes closed, thinking about us?’
‘I do as I please. Don’t try and force my secret out of me, I’m not some featherbrain who can be tricked so easily.’
She laughed.
‘You’d have been very bright! You’d have had a great future, you would!’
‘We have no future any more. All we can do is entertain ourselves by conversing.’
‘You make fun of the discussion over the vegetables, and yet what you suggest is just as pointless.’
I began to laugh. It was most enjoyable having someone as intelligent as myself to talk to.
‘I find the subject more interesting. Do we know why they locked us up?’
‘No.’
‘Or where the others are?’
‘If there is a reason, we don’t know what it is. Since we’re here, and we’re being kept alive, we think there must be others alive somewhere, but there’s no evidence, and that’s just as well. No one has the slightest idea what’s behind all this. There isn’t the slightest clue. They rounded up the adults – you’re almost certainly here by accident. At first – well, not really at first, because there’s a period that remains hazy in everybody’s minds – but after that, from the time when our memories became clearer, we know we used to think all the time. They could have killed you – but they don’t kill – or taken you away, sent you elsewhere, if there are other prisons like this one, but then your arrival would have brought news, and the one thing we are certain of is that they don’t want us to know anything. We came to the conclusion that they left you here because any decision can be analysed, and that their lack of decision indicated the only thing they wanted us to know, which is that we must know nothing.’
Never had any of the women spoken to me at such length. I sensed that she’d passed on to me everything she knew, and I experienced a mild light-headedness which was rather pleasant. It reminded me vaguely of the eruption and I promised myself I’d see if I could work it into one of my stories.
‘Can you tell me anything else?’
‘Nothing.’
She sighed and took up her needlework, inspecting it mechanically.
‘And we’ll never be any the wiser. We will die, one by one, as age gets the better of us. Dorothy will probably be the first, she has a bad heart. She looks over seventy. I don’t think I’m forty yet; with no seasons, we can’t keep track of time. You will be the last.’
She stared at me for ages without saying a word. Since I had greatly exercised my imagination of late, I could guess her thoughts: one day, I would be alone in the huge grey room. In the morning, a guard would pass me my food, which I’d cook on the hotplate, and I’d eat, sleep and die alone, without having understood our fate or why it had been inflicted on us. I was scared stiff.
‘Is there nothing we can do?’
‘There’s not one of us who hasn’t thought of killing herself, but they’re too quick. You mustn’t try and hang yourself: twist a piece of fabric into a rope and the minute you start tying it to the bars, they’ll be there. Mary, who’s sitting over there talking to Dorothy, tried to starve herself to death: they chased her with the whip and harassed her until she gave up. You know the knives they give us: they’re completely blunt. They’re just about good enough for scraping carrots, and we’re not allowed to try and sharpen them. Once, a long time ago, Alice, one of the most desperate women, persuaded another woman to strangle her. It happened at night, after they’d turned the lights down. We thought the guards were pacing up and down automatically, deceived by our stillness: but they watch us so closely all the time, that they realised what was happening and the whips cracked.’
‘They never touch us.’
‘At one time they did, there were wounds that were very slow to heal. We don’t know why they stopped. There’s no point rebelling. We must just wait until we die.’
She resumed her sewing. She was piecing together the least worn parts of a dress to make something or other. When I think back on it, I tell myself the lengths of fabric were almost excessive: it was hot in the bunker and we could have lived without clothes. I picture the two latrines in the centre of the room. Since there were forty of us, there was nearly always a woman sitting there doing her business, and I found it hard to believe that they allowed us to cover ourselves to satisfy our modesty. I watched Anthea and it occurred to me that seeing as I would be the last, I’d better learn to sew. Unless the women who died left me their clothing, and those hand-me-downs would last me until the end.
I was sad. I’d always hated my cellmates because of their indifference to me and I’d never spared a thought for them. On our arrival here, they’d been overwhelmed by their fear and despair, and I’d remained isolated, a terrified little girl surrounded by weeping women. In dying, they’d be abandoning me once more. Anger welled up inside me. So they had thought about our situation, they’d been wondering about it for a long time, and they’d always excluded me from their discussions. Anthea was the first to take the trouble to talk to me. I’d found our conversation interesting and had been determined to listen to her, to think, and forget that for years she’d ignored me just as the others had.