members of AlAbAn were treating it in order to generate its particular frisson—and that frisson was something to be valued in itself, as a kind of intoxication far more delicate than alcohol or ecstasy could produce. As someone who prided himself on being a connoisseur of delicacy, Steve thought, he ought to be wholeheartedly in favor of that kind of thrill.
Amelia Rockham made a second huge pot of tea, although many of her guests politely refused, and began to drift away in ones and twos. Steve and Janine waited politely until Milly signaled that she was ready to depart, and then they bid farewell to their hostess and Walter Wainwright before making their way back to the Citroen.
“Is it always like that?” Janine asked Milly, as they got into the car.
“The group, yes,” Milly said. “The story wasn’t typical, by any means. Most are closer to the stereotype: little aliens in saucer-shaped spaceships, with operating tables and bright lights, with or without lengthy dialogues in which one of the aliens explains the reason for the whole enterprise, usually involving the imminent extinction of the human race by virtue of nuclear war or ecocatastrophe, or both.”
“Is that the sort of thing that happened to you?” Steve asked, tilting his head so that he could see Milly’s face in the mirror.
“Yes and no,” she replied, shortly, blushing.
“Have you told your story to the group yet?” Janine asked, as Steve switched the engine on.
“No,” Milly said. “Nobody hassles you to tell, if you’re not ready, I think Walter might worry about me, a little—he makes paternal comments occasionally—but the others have the patience of saints.”
“I’ve seen that kind of paternal interest before,” Steve said. “Some teachers are the same way—the kind who used to be always patting the kids on the head or the knee, before all physical contact was outlawed. It’s usually harmless, of course—the ones who fantasize about taking it further don’t last long in the profession—but it’s still slightly suspect.”
“Walter’s not like that,” Milly replied, with conviction. “He’s absolutely sincere.”
“That’s the salesman’s motto, isn’t it?” Steve said, as he headed off towards Alderbury. “Sincerity is the key—once you can fake that, you’re made. Did you say that he was an insurance salesman, in his working days?”
“I don’t know,” Milly said. “I think someone mentioned once that he used to work for the Prudential, but I’ve no idea what his job was.”
Steve couldn’t suppress a brief smirk. Walter Wainwright, the man from the Pru, he thought. Back in the days when the outfit prided itself on the individual attention it gave its customers, always sending its agents round to collect premiums, long before England became the Empire of the Financial Advisers. Aloud, he said “Is there something going on between him and Amelia Rockham?”
“I doubt it, at their age” Milly said, dryly. “They’ve known one another for years—since they were our age, at least, and probably since their schooldays. Amelia told me once that they knew one another before they married their respective spouses, and there might have been a wistful note in her voice, but I’d hesitate to drawn any conclusions from that. They’re both widowed now, though, and they seem to be close—they certainly see one another outside the meetings, although I doubt that it involves any hot sex. I’d like to think our friendship would last as long as that, wouldn’t you, Jan?”
“Yes, I would,” Janine replied, “Although it’s bound to be difficult once people start pairing off and getting married.”
“I’ve got no plans,” Milly said, “and Alison seems to specialize in dating men who are already married nowadays. How about you?”
Steve glanced sideways, knowing that it would be Janine’s turn to blush. She didn’t reply to Milly’s provocative question.
“It needn’t matter, anyway,” Milly said, as soon as it became clear that Janine had no comment to make. “None of us would marry the kind of husband who’d monopolize us, would we? We’d carry on being friends no matter what.”
“We ought to get together with Ali next week,” Janine said. “It’s been too long.”
“Absolutely,” Milly said. “She’s bound to have some tales to tell. She’s well on her way to becoming the Town Hall tart. Have you met Alison, Steve?”
“No,” Janine answered for him. “I’ve explained that boy-friends aren’t allowed on our girls’ nights out.”
“We could arrange something more decorous that he wouldn’t find quite as shocking,” Milly suggested. “A weekend excursion to the coast, maybe.”
“Steve plays cricket,” Janine said. “Saturdays and Sundays, most weeks.”
“Well, no one’s perfect,” Milly said. “At least he’s remembered his abduction experience, even if it did need hypnotherapy to help him remember it. You should try that, Jan—dredge up your own experience. Everybody’s had at least one, you know.”
“I’ll leave mine safely buried for the time being,” Janine replied. “I’m sure it won’t be as lurid as yours.”
“We really must try to get Ali along to the next meeting,” Milly countered. “Hers is bound to involve alien sex. I’d love to see the expression on Walter’s face while he listened to one of Ali’s adventures. Amelia would just nod her head maternally, though, and sympathize. She’s imperturbable.”
While this exchange continued between the two girls, Steve kept his eyes on the road, looking out for stray deer and wishing that the unlit stretch connecting West Grimstead to Alderbury didn’t look quite so much like a road that wasn’t really a road at all, mysteriously heading directly to nowhere. On the other hand, he thought, how wonderful would it be to belong to a world in which intelligence was everywhere, and in which the only fundamental political philosophy was creationism?
Janine and Milly’s private discussion petered out as they reached Alderbury. “Shall we stop off for something to eat?” Steve asked, as he turned on to the A36. “I didn’t get away from school until half past five, so I haven’t had a chance.”
“I’m okay,” Milly said. “I had a snack before I came out.”
“We can stop off at the Chinese takeaway on the corner of my street after we drop Milly off, if you like,” Janine said. “We can eat at my place.”
“Good idea.” Steve said.
“You will be going to go to the next meeting, won’t you?” Milly put in, quickly.
Janine tried to save Steve from the necessity of answering by saying “I don’t know,” and would probably have gone on to say that she could let Milly know when they got together the following week, but Steve had already decided that he didn’t need saving.
“We can pick you up at the same time, if you like,” he said. “I’ll give it one more go, at least. It’s free, after all—and anything’s better than watching TV.”
“Thanks,” Milly said. “I appreciate it. The bus is awful, and I don’t like begging lifts from the others, even though a couple of them drive through Salisbury on their way further west.”
