Daniel’s vision of Christine Keeler establishes the 1963 Profumo Affair as a thematic element of the text, putting it in conversation with the social atmosphere of Brexit that pervades the novel. By focusing on Keeler’s appearance in court and the questions to her credibility through the recanting of Miss Ricardo’s testimony, Smith examines the way Keeler has been put to scrutiny, which resonates with the way she was depicted in Pauline Boty’s lost artwork Scandal 63. Both Daniel and Miss Ricardo are linked by the shared image of the trees they transform into, making the image of the tree one of the novel’s main motifs. The fact that Miss Ricardo’s statement was crucial in the indictment against Stephen Ward and, by association, Keeler suggests how Daniel feels in his present stage of life: unable to act on the events that redefine the world he has known through his extended sleep period. Importantly, Miss Ricardo’s appearance also centers the fact that she did not willingly deliver her testimony but was coerced into doing so. This underscores the political machinations of the state, which will use its institutions to sanitize its transgressions against ordinary citizens. This mirrors the transgression of the fence that Elisabeth and Wendy encounter, which forces them to cede what was once common land to the whims of the state. Daniel’s mind moves tangentially from the memory of the trial to a menacing train journey where the other passengers discuss the benefits of eugenics, further echoing this idea. The structure of this dream-vision mirrors the theme of The Fluidity of Time and Memory, suggesting that personal and historical traumas coexist and inform the present moment.

While Daniel’s mind wanders through a porous and interconnected past, Elisabeth’s present is characterized by encounters with rigid, unyielding systems that enforce division. Her attempts to access basic services in Chapter 15, from seeing a doctor to renewing her passport, are blocked by bureaucratic gatekeepers fixated on arbitrary rules. A receptionist demands specific forms of ID that Elisabeth doesn’t have, and a Post Office official rejects her photo because her eyes “don’t sit with the permissible regularity inside the shaded area” (108). These officials act as agents of an impersonal system where procedure supersedes human need. This sequence develops the symbol of passports and photographs, which are intended to confirm identity but here function as instruments of exclusion. Elisabeth’s frustrating exchanges highlight a societal breakdown in which genuine dialogue is supplanted by the cold recitation of regulations. These interactions serve as a microcosm of The Alienation Caused by Political Division, reflecting a post-referendum climate where people are increasingly categorized, policed, and separated from one another by impenetrable structures.

In stark contrast to the closed-off nature of Elisabeth’s present, Daniel’s remembered lessons from Elisabeth’s childhood champion the power of narrative to open up possibilities and challenge authority. The storytelling game that he invents, Bagatelle, is built on the principle of trifling “with the stories that people think are set in stone” (117), a philosophy that positions storytelling as a form of creative resistance. This concept connects directly to the theme of Art as a Subversive Record, suggesting that art and narrative can offer alternative histories to dominant, often oppressive, accounts. The fantastical tale that Daniel spins for a 13-year-old Elisabeth, in which a person in a tree costume defeats a gunman not with violence but with a surprising metamorphosis into an actual tree, is a parable for this principle. The story reframes the nature of power, proposing that imagination and transformation can be more potent than brute force. This formative lesson deeply shapes Elisabeth’s worldview, informing her later academic interest in Boty and providing a framework for understanding resistance in her own time.

The lessons of Daniel’s storytelling find a direct echo in Elisabeth’s contemporary landscape, where creative acts of defiance stand against physical manifestations of hostility. After witnessing a xenophobic incident, Elisabeth discovers that the hateful “GO HOME” graffiti on a neighbor’s house has been answered with a vivid, artistic statement: “WE ARE ALREADY HOME THANK YOU” (138), accompanied by painted flowers and a tree. This act of subversive art embodies the very principles that Daniel taught her. However, this hopeful sign is immediately juxtaposed with a far more menacing symbol of division: The security fence on the common has been doubled, creating a sterile, monitored corridor through what was once open land. The fences are a stark emblem of the new social and political borders solidifying in Britain. Elisabeth’s confrontation with the SA4A guard, who insists that common land is private and threatens her with forcible removal, brings The Alienation Caused by Political Division into the realm of physical intimidation. This scene literalizes the “end of dialogue” that Elisabeth has been sensing (112), showing how abstract political rhetoric translates into hostile structures that reshape both the physical and social environment.

The section further explores the national mood by contrasting two different ways of engaging with the past. Elisabeth’s mother finds comfort and excitement in the nostalgic world of the antiques show The Golden Gavel, retreating into a televised, sanitized history where she can meet her childhood hero, the TV star Johnnie. This escapism stands in sharp relief against Elisabeth’s raw and immediate experience of contemporary xenophobia. The juxtaposition suggests a splintering of realities, where one segment of the population can indulge in the past as entertainment while another is forced to confront the hostile consequences of a divided present. The TV show’s premise, where reality stars unearth hidden value from historical “dross,” is itself a metaphor for the novel’s focus on reclaiming forgotten figures like Boty. Yet this televised nostalgia also is a distraction, a “hypnotic” broadcast that diverts attention from the urgent political realities. Elisabeth, meanwhile, reads about how political campaigns use similar emotional, non-factual methods to influence people, drawing a subtle line between harmless entertainment and manipulative propaganda and further distinguishing her critical engagement with the past from her mother’s more passive consumption of it.