A Touch of Love Read Online Free PDF

offence. I don’t want to quarrel. It’s just that suddenly you become predictable. The whole thing becomes predictable. Suddenly it’s not a discussion any more, we’re both acting out roles. I know what I can and can’t say to you, and whenever you say something, I have to ask myself, Is that what he really thinks, or just what he’s told he has to think?’
    Back in the sitting room, Miles was subdued.
    ‘I didn’t know you felt that strongly about it.’
    ‘It’s not you , Miles. It’s these wretched compromises we have to go through, every day of our lives. We never arrive at the truth, because we’re always too busy making allowances. You end up never speaking your mind, you just say what you know the other person wants to hear. You frame a different truth for every context. You can’t talk about socialism with a group of conservatives, and you can’t talk about conservatism with a group of socialists. If you want to talk about religion, you’ll find yourself saying completely different things depending on whether it’s a Buddhist, a Christian or an atheist you’re discussing it with. If you ask an academic for an opinion, it’ll be an academic one, if you ask a doctor, it’ll be medical, if you ask a solicitor, it’ll be legal. The minute we become socially active, we sacrifice honesty, integrity and neutrality to the impulse to avoid confrontation.’ He sighed and concluded: ‘It’s very depressing.’
    ‘You sound like a friend of mine,’ said Miles.
    ‘Really?’
    ‘Yes. I’ve got a friend who thinks just like that.’
    ‘What’s his name?’
    ‘Karen. Haven’t you ever heard me talk about Karen?’
    ‘The name’s vaguely familiar.’
    ‘She’s always complaining that she can never have a proper discussion with anyone.’ He thought for a moment. ‘You two really ought to get together.’
    After a few more minutes, this became a serious suggestion. Richard was opposed to the idea of actually meeting Miles’s friend, however. He claimed that the sort of conversation which he envisaged could only be truly impartial, truly detached, if the participants were to remain at a distance from one another. He proposed an exchange of letters.
    ‘All right,’ said Miles. ‘I’ll call her up now.’
    Soon afterwards he returned with the news that Karen had responded enthusiastically to the proposal.
    ‘She asked you to write the first letter,’ he said, ‘and wants to know whether you think the United States or the Soviet Union is the more expansionist. She asked you to link your answer to the mood of increased liberalization in Gorbachev’s Russia, and to say whether you think this is indicative of a crisis of identity in the communist countries generally. Just to get the ball rolling, really.’
    Richard sat up until three that morning, writing his letter. He found the experience uncommonly liberating. Miles had told him nothing about Karen: all he knew, then, was that she was female, and that she was roughly his own age. Freed from the constraint of having to adjust himself to the known requirements of his addressee, he was able to express himself honestly, fully, as his head and his heart dictated. He did not even know her surname, or have any idea of where his letter would be sent. He simply wrote ‘Karen’ on the envelope, and left Miles to address and post it.
    Three days later, a reply arrived. Richard picked it up from the doormat, sat down at the kitchen table and looked at the envelope. It was postmarked Birmingham. The stamp was a special Christmas issue. His name and address were typed. The envelope was expensive.
    Opening the letter, he found ten pages of large, decisive and tidy handwriting. There were many crossings-out, and here and there a whole phrase had been deleted with Tipp-Ex. The letter began with ‘Dear Richard’, but ended, ‘with very best wishes, Yours in anticipation’. (He had given a purely formal ‘Yours sincerely’.)
    Having taken in these