Edge of Eternity (104 page)

‘Well, obviously—’

‘Think of how we built that set for Percy and Evie. Everything about the scene says that white and black have to be kept apart: their costumes, the roles they’re playing, and the counter between them.’

‘That was the intention,’ said Wharton.

‘We emphasized their separateness, and I don’t want to throw that in black people’s faces, especially not tonight, when their great hero has been murdered. But Evie’s kiss, right at the end, undermines the whole set-up. The kiss says we don’t have to exploit one another and beat one another and murder one another. It says we
can
touch one another. That shouldn’t be a big thing, but it is.’

Dave held his breath. In truth, he was not sure the kiss was going to stop many riots. He wanted the kiss left in just because it stood for right against wrong. But he thought maybe this argument might convince Wharton.

Caroline said: ‘Dave’s so right, Dad. You really ought to do it.’

‘Yeah,’ said Edward.

Wharton was not much moved by his children’s opinions, but he turned to his wife, somewhat to Dave’s surprise, and asked: ‘What do you think, dear?’

‘I wouldn’t tell you to do anything that would harm the company,’ she said. ‘You know that. But I think this could even benefit National Soap. If you’re criticized, tell them you did it because of Martin Luther King. You could end up a hero.’

Dave said: ‘It’s seven forty-five, Mr Wharton. Charlie Lacklow is waiting by the phone. If you call him in the next five minutes, he’ll have time to switch the tapes. The decision is yours.’

The room went quiet. Wharton thought for a minute. Then he got up. ‘Heck, I think you might be right,’ he said.

He went out into the hall.

They all heard him dialling. Dave bit his lip. ‘Mr Lacklow, please . . . Hello, Charlie . . . Yes, he’s here, having dessert with us . . . We’ve had a long discussion about it, and I’m calling to ask you to put the kiss back in the show . . . Yes, that’s what I said. Thank you, Charlie. Goodnight.’

Dave heard the sound of the phone being cradled, and allowed a warm sense of triumph to suffuse him.

Mr Wharton came back into the room. ‘Well, it’s done,’ he said.

Dave said: ‘Thank you, Mr Wharton.’

*  *  *

‘The kiss got huge publicity, nearly all of it good,’ Dave said to Evie over lunch in the Polo Lounge on Tuesday.

‘So National Soap benefited?’

‘That’s what my new friend Mr Wharton tells me. Sales of Foam have gone up, not down.’

‘And the show?’

‘Also a success. They have already commissioned a season.’

‘And all because you did the right thing.’

‘My solo career is off to a great start. Not bad for a kid who failed all his exams.’

Charlie Lacklow joined them at their table. ‘Sorry I’m late,’ he said insincerely. ‘I’ve been working on a joint press release with National Soap. A bit late, three days after the show, but they want to capitalize on the good publicity.’ He handed two sheets of paper to Dave.

Evie said: ‘May I see?’ She knew Dave had trouble reading. He handed the papers to her. After a minute she said: ‘Dave! They have you saying: “I wish to pay tribute to the managing director of National Soap, Mr Albert Wharton, for his courage and vision in insisting that the show be broadcast including the controversial kiss.” The nerve!’

Dave took back the paper.

Charlie handed him a ballpoint pen.

Dave wrote ‘OK’ at the top of the sheet then signed it and handed it to Charlie.

Evie was apoplectic. ‘It’s outrageous!’ she said.

‘Of course it is,’ said Dave. ‘That’s show business.’

43

On the day Dimka’s divorce became final, there was a meeting of top Kremlin aides to discuss the crisis in Czechoslovakia.

Dimka was bucked. He longed to marry Natalya, and now one major obstacle was out of the way. He could hardly wait to tell her the news, but when he arrived at the Nina Onilova Room, several other aides were already there, and he had to wait.

When she came in, with her curly hair falling around her face in the way he found so enchanting, he gave her a big smile. She did not know what it was for, but she smiled back happily.

Dimka was almost as happy about Czechoslovakia. The new leader in Prague, Alexander Dub
ek, had turned out to be a reformer after Dimka’s own heart. For the first time since Dimka had been working in the Kremlin, a Soviet satellite had announced that its version of Communism might not be exactly the same as the Soviet model. On 5 April, Dub
ek had announced an Action Programme that included freedom of speech, the right to travel to the West, an end to arbitrary arrests, and greater independence for industrial enterprises.

And if it worked in Czechoslovakia, it might work in the USSR too.

Dimka had always thought that Communism could be reformed – unlike his sister and the dissidents, who believed it should be scrapped.

The meeting began, and Yevgeny Filipov presented a KGB report that said bourgeois elements were attempting to undermine the Czech revolution.

Dimka sighed heavily. This was typical of the Kremlin under Brezhnev. When people resisted their authority, they never asked whether there were legitimate reasons, but always looked for – or invented – malign motives.

Dimka’s response was scornful. ‘I doubt if there are many bourgeois elements left in Czechoslovakia, after twenty years of Communism,’ he said.

As evidence, Filipov produced two pieces of paper. One was a letter from Simon Wiesenthal, director of the Jewish Documentation Centre in Vienna, praising the work of Zionist colleagues in Prague. The other was a leaflet printed in Czechoslovakia calling for the Ukraine to secede from the USSR.

Across the table, Natalya Smotrov was derisive. ‘These documents are such obvious forgeries as to be laughable! It’s not remotely plausible that Simon Wiesenthal is organizing a counter-revolution in Prague. Surely the KGB can do better than this?’

Filipov said angrily: ‘Dub
ek has turned out to be a snake in the grass!’

There was a grain of truth in that. When the previous Czech leader became unpopular, Dub
ek had been approved by Brezhnev as his replacement because he seemed dull and reliable. His radicalism had come as a nasty shock to Kremlin conservatives.

Filipov went on. ‘Dub
ek has allowed newspapers to attack Communist leaders!’ he said indignantly.

Filipov was on weak ground here. Dub
ek’s predecessor, Novotný, had been a crook. Now Dimka said: ‘The newly liberated newspapers revealed that Novotný was using government import licences to buy Jaguar cars that he then sold to his Party colleagues at a huge profit.’ He pretended incredulity. ‘Do you really want to protect such men, Comrade Filipov?’

‘I want Communist countries to be governed in a disciplined and rigorous way,’ Filipov replied. ‘Subversive newspapers will soon start demanding Western-style so-called democracy, in which political parties representing rival bourgeois factions create the illusion of choice but unite to repress the working class.’

‘Nobody wants that,’ said Natalya. ‘But we do want Czechoslovakia to be a culturally advanced country attractive to Western tourists. If we crack down and tourism declines, the Soviet Union will be forced to pay out even more money to support the Czech economy.’

Filipov sneered: ‘Is that the Foreign Ministry view?’

‘The Foreign Ministry wants a negotiation with Du
bek to ensure that the country remains Communist, not a crude intervention that will alienate capitalist and Communist countries alike.’