1984 - Planet eBook

‘Real sugar. Not saccharine, sugar. And here’s a loaf ofbread—proper white bread, not our bloody stuff—and a littlepot of jam. And here’s a tin of milk—but look! This is theone I’m really proud of. I had to wrap a bit of sacking roundit, because——’But she did not need to tell him why she had wrapped itup. The smell was already filling the room, a rich hot smellwhich seemed like an emanation from his early childhood,but which one did occasionally meet with even now, blowingdown a passage-way before a door slammed, or diffusingitself mysteriously in a crowded street, sniffed for an instantand then lost again.‘It’s coffee,’ he murmured, ‘real coffee.’‘It’s Inner Party coffee. There’s a whole kilo here,’ shesaid.‘How did you manage to get hold of all these things?’‘It’s all Inner Party stuff. There’s nothing those swinedon’t have, nothing. But of course waiters and servants andpeople pinch things, and—look, I got a little packet of teaas well.’Winston had squatted down beside her. He tore open acorner of the packet.‘It’s real tea. Not blackberry leaves.’‘There’s been a lot of tea about lately. They’ve captured India,or something,’ she said vaguely. ‘But listen, dear. I wantyou to turn your back on me for three minutes. Go and siton the other side of the bed. Don’t go too near the window.And don’t turn round till I tell you.’Winston gazed abstractedly through the muslin curtain.