He
remembered the day well, a pelting, drenching day when the water streamed
down the window-pane and the light indoors was too dull to read by. The
boredom of the two children in the dark, cramped bedroom became unbearable.
Winston whined and grizzled, made futile demands for food, fretted about
the room pulling everything out of place and kicking the wainscoting until
the neighbours banged on the wall, while the younger child wailed
intermittently. In the end his mother said, 'Now be good, and I'Il buy you
a toy. A lovely toy -- you'll love it'; and then she had gone out in the
rain, to a little general shop which was still sporadically open nearby,
and came back with a cardboard box containing an outfit of Snakes and
Ladders. He could still remember the smell of the damp cardboard. It was a
miserable outfit. The board was cracked and the tiny wooden dice were so
ill-cut that they would hardly lie on their sides. Winston looked at the
thing sulkily and without interest. But then his mother lit a piece of
candle and they sat down on the floor to play. Soon he was wildly excited
and shouting with laughter as the tiddly-winks climbed hopefully up the
ladders and then came slithering down the snakes again, almost to the
starting-point. They played eight games, winning four each. His tiny
sister, too young to understand what the game was about, had sat propped up
against a bolster, laughing because the others were laughing. For a whole
afternoon they had all been happy together, as in his earlier childhood.
He pushed the picture out of his mind. It was a false memory. He was
troubled by false memories occasionally. They did not matter so long as one
knew them for what they were. Some things had happened, others had not
happened. He turned back to the chessboard and picked up the white knight
again. Almost in the same instant it dropped on to the