The Resistance

were going.’
    ‘Deliberations?’
    ‘To sign, or not to sign.’ Peter noticed his grandfather’s left hand tapping nervously, the slight twitch in his right eye, the colour of his face – more grey than it had been the week before.
    Peter looked around the room, scanning it for files. ‘I haven’t really thought about it,’ he said cautiously, taking a gulp of coffee.
    His grandfather put his cup down. The motion was heavy, causing a clank as the porcelain hit the table. Then he pushed back his chair, picking up a file in front of him and flicking through it idly; Peter could tell from the way his eyes were moving that they weren’t focusing on it. He wondered which file it was. Wondered how easy the filing system was to work out.
    The phone rang, and his grandfather picked it up. ‘I see,’ he said, after several seconds. ‘Very well.’ He put the phone down, then lifted it again and pressed a button. ‘Yes, I’d like to order a car . . . This evening, 5 p.m. To the West End. Thank you.’ He put the receiver down, then his eyes fell on Peter, as though surprised to find him still there. ‘Ah, Peter,’ he said vaguely. ‘I’m sorry about that. Where were we?’
    Peter looked at him archly. ‘You were asking me if I’d decided to sign the Declaration.’
    ‘That’s right.’ He continued to look at Peter, his expression unreadable. Peter was tempted to get up and walk out, but he didn’t.
    ‘That’s it?’ he asked instead. ‘That’s all you wanted to say?’
    His grandfather smiled, then stood up. ‘Not signing would be a huge mistake,’ he said thoughtfully, as he walked around to the front of his desk and leant against it. ‘You know that.’
    ‘To be honest, I haven’t really had time to think properly.’ Peter’s eyes followed his grandfather like a hawk.
    ‘So then there is nothing else to say,’ Richard said smoothly.
    This time, Peter didn’t say anything; he just got up to go.
    ‘You know, you and I are alike, Peter,’ his grandfather continued; reluctantly, Peter sat down again. ‘I can see it in your eyes. We both want to achieve great things, to be someone. Perhaps you think that Opting Out would mark you out from the crowd, make you different, unique. But if you Opt Out, you won’t be making a statement; you’ll be signing your life away, quite literally.’
    ‘We’re not alike.’ The words burst out before Peter could stop himself; immediately his grandfather smiled broadly.
    ‘Oh yes we are. We both enjoy a fight. Both enjoy winning. Both like to have the last word, isn’t that right?’
    Peter’s eyes narrowed.
    ‘Tell me, Peter, how many members of the Underground have Opted Out?’ his grandfather asked, ignoring Peter’s silence. ‘How many of them were prepared to make the sacrifice that you are being asked to?’
    Peter shrugged. ‘How would I know? I don’t know anyone from the Underground.’
    ‘Of course you don’t,’ his grandfather said smoothly. ‘Foolish of me.’ He smiled. ‘You know, in the past terrorists used to convince passionate young men to blow themselves up for some cause or other all the time. Revolutionaries are always keen to find sacrificial lambs. So long as they don’t have to die themselves.’
    ‘I wouldn’t know about that.’
    ‘No, I’m sure you don’t. Just remember, Peter, that indecisiveness is a very poor quality. People need to know where you stand. I need to know where you stand.’
    Peter stood up again. ‘Look, I can’t rush a decision like this,’ he said, doing his best to give nothing away in his voice.
    His grandfather looked him directly in the eye for a second, then nodded. ‘Of course. Of course you can’t.’
    Peter turned and made his way back to the door.
    ‘Oh, and Peter,’ his grandfather said, as he opened it.
    ‘What?’
    ‘You very nearly got the last word. Well done.’
    Peter opened his mouth to speak, then, irritably, forced it closed and walked out of the door.

Chapter Twelve
    ‘Right, I think we’re done for the day. You ready to go home?’
    Peter shook his head distractedly as though embroiled in the experiment Dr Edwards had asked him to complete. ‘Me? No. I wanted to . . . finish up a few things.’
    ‘OK, suit yourself.’
    From his position at the side of the room, Peter waited impatiently as Dr Edwards walked around the lab, turning things off, checking machines, flicking alarms, until finally he waved goodbye and left. Then Peter waited, even more