‘Won’t you do that for me?’

They were bound by what he was saying, and by the memories of all the days gone by. He must be right. And yet….

‘Perhaps you can’t say anything at the moment?’

‘No,’ they replied in confusion.

‘No, but I’m sure you’ll agree with your father,’ he insisted. And left them, satisfied.

The house was cracking.

Listen, they thought.

The darkness seethes up inside the newly made centre. Dreadful rumours are circulating about it. And now Father wants to work in the corridors and polish the arrows that point to it. But Father is all goodness. He isn’t in league with anything that comes from the centre. It’s only a matter of polishing those arrows, they said, and resigned themselves to it.

They wished their mother were alive. They wondered what they would say to their friends, and what their friends would say to them. What kind of looks they would be given at school tomorrow or the day after.

But Father only does what he believes to be right and good, they insisted fearfully.

So Father went to his arrow polishing, and Frank and Freda went to meet their tall young friends at school. They walked through the dark, stifled house, which cracked and crumbled incessantly; which contained so much that they did not understand.

On the second day it was common knowledge at school.

They could tell from a long way off. And when they came nearer there was no doubt about it.

‘Well well,’ said someone. ‘Are you that kind, after all?’

A ring of emptiness formed round them. They had had good friends. Now these were standing outside the ring, and either dared not, or did not want to go inside it.

‘Your father’s going to polish the arrows for them.’

It was said with great scorn.

‘Yes!’ said Frank defiantly and fearfully. ‘You needn’t criticize my father.’

There was laughter.

‘Listen to Frank. He’s in it as well.’

‘Just you shut up!’ said Freda.

‘Listen to Freda!’ they shouted.

‘My father isn’t doing anything wrong!’ said Freda furiously. ‘And you know it very well.’

‘But he’s polishing arrows, that’s more than enough. That means he’s with them.’

Frank and Freda looked at the bloodthirsty crowd helplessly. Were they going to be on their own from now on? It felt like being seized by the throat. It’ll be no use staying here any longer, it suddenly occurred to them, looking at the terrible empty ring enclosing them.

Someone in the crowd said, ‘Look how ashamed they are.’

Nobody answered. Frank and Freda stood with everyone’s eyes on them and did not know what to do. Why? Why? whirled in their heads. Father has only done what he believes to be right. He couldn’t do otherwise. He’s not like that.

Then the bell went, fortunately, and they were able to bury themselves in work at their desks.

There they sat, the darkness thick against the window-panes, knowing where the darkness was seething from, listening to the cracking of the house. They suffered the pressure, together with all the others. When school was over they hurried home without exchanging a word with anyone. Freda began making dinner.