Edge of Eternity Read Online Free PDF Page A
Author: Ken Follett
in Prince George’s County, Maryland, outside Washington, DC. ‘I want to stay fit,’ he said. ‘Maybe I’ll coach a high-school wrestling team.’
‘Now that would be worth doing.’
He looked at her fondly. Jacky Jakes had once been pretty, he knew: he had seen photographs of her as a teenager, when she had aspired to be a movie star. She still looked young: she had the kind of dark-chocolate-coloured skin that did not wrinkle. ‘Good black don’t crack,’ the Negro women said. But the wide mouth that smiled so broadly in those old photos was now turned down at the corners in an expression of grim determination. She had never become an actress. Perhaps she had never had a chance: the few roles for Negro women generally went to light-skinned beauties. Anyway, her career had ended before it began when, at the age of sixteen, she had become pregnant with George. She had gained that careworn face raising him alone for the first decade of his life, working as a waitress and living in a tiny house at the back of Union Station, and drilling him in the need for hard work and education and respectability.
He said: ‘I love you, Mom, but I’m still going on the Freedom Ride.’
She pressed her lips together disapprovingly. ‘You’re twenty-five years old,’ she said. ‘You please yourself.’
‘No, I don’t. Every important decision I’ve ever made, I’ve discussed with you. I probably always will.’
‘You don’t do what I say.’
‘Not always. But you’re still the smartest person I’ve ever met, and that includes everyone at Harvard.’
‘Now you’re just buttering me up,’ she said, but she was pleased, he could tell.
‘Mom, the Supreme Court has ruled that segregation on interstate buses and bus stations is unconstitutional – but those Southerners just defy the law. We have to do something!’
‘How do you think it’s going to help, this bus ride?’
‘We’re going to board here in Washington and travel south. We’ll sit at the front, use the whites-only waiting rooms, and ask to be served in the whites-only diners; and when people object we’re going to tell them that the law is on our side, and they are the criminals and troublemakers.’
‘Son, I know you’re right. You don’t have to tell me that. I understand the Constitution. But what do you think will happen?’
‘I guess we’ll get arrested sooner or later. Then there’ll be a trial, and we’ll argue our case in front of the world.’
She shook her head. ‘I sure hope you get off that easy.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You grew up privileged,’ she said. ‘At least, you did after your white father came back into our lives when you were six years old. You don’t know what the world is like for most coloured folk.’
‘I wish you wouldn’t say that.’ George was stung: he got this accusation from black activists, and it annoyed him. ‘Having a rich white grandfather pay for my education doesn’t make me blind. I know what goes on.’
‘Then maybe you know that getting arrested might be the least bad thing that could happen to you. What if things get rough?’
George knew she was right. The Freedom Riders might be risking worse than jail. But he wanted to reassure his mother. ‘I’ve had lessons in passive resistance,’ he said. All those chosen for the Freedom Ride were experienced civil rights activists, and they had been put through a special training programme that included role-playing exercises. ‘A white man pretending to be a redneck called me nigger, pushed and shoved me, and dragged me out of the room by my heels – and I let him, even though I could have thrown him out the window with one arm.’
‘Who was he?’
‘A civil rights campaigner.’
‘Not the real thing.’
‘Of course not. He was acting a part.’
‘Okay,’ she said, and he knew from her tone that she meant the opposite.
‘It’s going to be all right, Mom.’
‘I’m not saying any more. Are you going to eat
‘Now that would be worth doing.’
He looked at her fondly. Jacky Jakes had once been pretty, he knew: he had seen photographs of her as a teenager, when she had aspired to be a movie star. She still looked young: she had the kind of dark-chocolate-coloured skin that did not wrinkle. ‘Good black don’t crack,’ the Negro women said. But the wide mouth that smiled so broadly in those old photos was now turned down at the corners in an expression of grim determination. She had never become an actress. Perhaps she had never had a chance: the few roles for Negro women generally went to light-skinned beauties. Anyway, her career had ended before it began when, at the age of sixteen, she had become pregnant with George. She had gained that careworn face raising him alone for the first decade of his life, working as a waitress and living in a tiny house at the back of Union Station, and drilling him in the need for hard work and education and respectability.
He said: ‘I love you, Mom, but I’m still going on the Freedom Ride.’
She pressed her lips together disapprovingly. ‘You’re twenty-five years old,’ she said. ‘You please yourself.’
‘No, I don’t. Every important decision I’ve ever made, I’ve discussed with you. I probably always will.’
‘You don’t do what I say.’
‘Not always. But you’re still the smartest person I’ve ever met, and that includes everyone at Harvard.’
‘Now you’re just buttering me up,’ she said, but she was pleased, he could tell.
‘Mom, the Supreme Court has ruled that segregation on interstate buses and bus stations is unconstitutional – but those Southerners just defy the law. We have to do something!’
‘How do you think it’s going to help, this bus ride?’
‘We’re going to board here in Washington and travel south. We’ll sit at the front, use the whites-only waiting rooms, and ask to be served in the whites-only diners; and when people object we’re going to tell them that the law is on our side, and they are the criminals and troublemakers.’
‘Son, I know you’re right. You don’t have to tell me that. I understand the Constitution. But what do you think will happen?’
‘I guess we’ll get arrested sooner or later. Then there’ll be a trial, and we’ll argue our case in front of the world.’
She shook her head. ‘I sure hope you get off that easy.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You grew up privileged,’ she said. ‘At least, you did after your white father came back into our lives when you were six years old. You don’t know what the world is like for most coloured folk.’
‘I wish you wouldn’t say that.’ George was stung: he got this accusation from black activists, and it annoyed him. ‘Having a rich white grandfather pay for my education doesn’t make me blind. I know what goes on.’
‘Then maybe you know that getting arrested might be the least bad thing that could happen to you. What if things get rough?’
George knew she was right. The Freedom Riders might be risking worse than jail. But he wanted to reassure his mother. ‘I’ve had lessons in passive resistance,’ he said. All those chosen for the Freedom Ride were experienced civil rights activists, and they had been put through a special training programme that included role-playing exercises. ‘A white man pretending to be a redneck called me nigger, pushed and shoved me, and dragged me out of the room by my heels – and I let him, even though I could have thrown him out the window with one arm.’
‘Who was he?’
‘A civil rights campaigner.’
‘Not the real thing.’
‘Of course not. He was acting a part.’
‘Okay,’ she said, and he knew from her tone that she meant the opposite.
‘It’s going to be all right, Mom.’
‘I’m not saying any more. Are you going to eat