Thursday

by David Ridgway

  "There were nearly 500 Jamaicans on the first boat that came across and more followed. They spread right over the country and they became the backbone of the Health Service, nurses, ancillary workers, porters. The nurses did well because they were paid better than the rest. The men drifted into public transport and labouring, if they could find work at all. My Grandad and my father both worked for London Transport, so I’m third generation Jamaican working on the Underground.

  "But the history isn’t a proud one from anyone’s perspective. It’s really not surprising that the deprivation finally resulted in the race riots back in the 1960s. None of us have been good at integrating into normal British society. Yeah, it’s true that we were kept at arm’s length by the white folks for far too long, but sport had become a possible route to a better life. So had music. Others, of course, turned to crime and the black gangs on this side of the river seriously started to unsettle the grip that the white gang leaders enjoyed for so many years.

  "I guess it’s true that Scotland Yard used to turn a bit of a blind eye to gangs like the Krays and the Richardsons because, in the main, while they were in control, there was some sort of peace on the streets. With the new black gangs muscling in, however, street warfare broke out and, suddenly, Scotland Yard woke up. It was a simple, political decision to introduce laws like ‘Stop and Search’, even though there was little fairness or any Human Rights behind them. After all, the public were looking for a scapegoat and the immigrant West Indian community more than fitted the bill.

  "And the politicians didn’t help. I don’t think they really understood. Strangely, Enoch Powell did understand, but too many people regarded him as a maverick. The black folks hated him, not because of what he said, but how his comments were reported in the press. It was all so depressing that very few of my friends and neighbours saw any sense in getting educated because the opportunities for a decent career for a black man just didn’t exist. My old mum, however, made sure that I went to school and I now realise that my abilities are far better than I could ever have believed when I was a boy.

  “But, all of a sudden, things changed. Some people worked all their lives and paid into their valuable pension schemes. They were now reaching retirement and their pension lump sums from the Health Service or Local Government allowed them to get rid of all their debts and their mortgages and still have a decent amount of money in their pockets. And, of course, new waves of immigrants were arriving. First the Pakistanis and Indians, then the refugees from Africa and the Middle East and even later the Eastern Europeans. All of a sudden, the West Indians were seen as having magically integrated into British society. We were no longer the bad guys. We were scoring goals for the England football team and taking wickets in Test Matches. It wasn’t very surprising that the press and other commentators began to look for other, newer scapegoats for all the ills of society.”

  As he was talking, Milton realised that he was looking at his hands, at the wall, at the coffee table, anywhere but at Pamela. As he fell silent, he felt somewhat surprised at his outpouring and he looked up at Pamela. She was staring at him spell bound.

  “I never realised that there was so much discrimination in England.” Her face looked crestfallen, as though she was about to cry.

  “Sadly, it’s everywhere. It even exists in my own community, where some West Indians believe that we are better people than African migrants. I’ve even heard some Jamaicans say that they are better than other West Indians. Of course, people try to paper over these differences by calling us Afro Caribbeans, but I always think that sounds more like a type of haircut!”

  “How on earth do you cope with idiots like Carl and Les?”

  "It’s easier if you try to understand why they are like that. Remember, their way of life has been completely turned upside down. The days are now long gone when they would have simply walked out of one job and into another without any qualifications. In the old days, there would have been contacts right across the city and through such networks, legal or illegal, it was always possible to find work. It’s not like that now. Wave after wave of immigrants have swept away that old order, but a new order hasn’t yet been established. I suppose the last great statement by the die-hard British was to vote to come out of Europe.

  “So I try to understand them and where they are coming from. In that way, I can stand up to them and, if possible, argue the rights and wrongs. Of course, Carl and Les are not really the debating types, so that’s when it is sometimes necessary to fall back onto my more basic instincts.”

  Pamela reached across and took hold of his hand. “I’m so glad that I’ve met you,” she said. She leant over further and kissed him on the cheek. Milton responded and put his arm round her and gently pulled her to him. They sat quietly for a while, before Pamela nudged him and suggested that they should clear up the pots in the kitchen.

  In the middle of the evening, out at Thatched Barn Farm, Charlie and his wife Paula arrived. As they drove into a rain swept yard, Martin and Jennifer came out of the kitchen door to greet them. They quickly collected their suitcases and bags, before rushing into the house, to get out of the wind and rain. In the kitchen, the greetings and pleasantries had hardly been completed when there was toot of a car horn as James and Megan arrived.

  Once again, everyone rushed out of the kitchen door to get all the baggage inside as quickly as possible. Martin suddenly stopped, when he realised that three adults had got out of the car. It can’t be, he thought. “It is,” he shouted. “Helen!” Jennifer looked across and saw her daughter struggling to get what looked like a trunk out of the car. All thoughts of the weather were banished as they hugged and kissed each other.

  “Come on, quickly, or you’ll catch your death,” called Jennifer, clucking around them like a mother hen around its brood. “Anyway, why aren’t you in New Zealand, Helen?”

  “Well, I couldn’t let the boys take over everything while I was away, could I?”

  “What on earth do you mean?” asked Martin, as he shut the kitchen door behind them.

  “You know. My inheritance and my position as the favourite child.” She laughed.

  “The favourite what?” asked Charlie. “You’re only the favourite daughter. James and I compete as the favourite son, but I don’t think we have any chance against a daughter.”

  The children disappeared upstairs with their luggage while Jennifer put on the kettle to make a cup of tea.

  As they came out of the cinema, it was almost eleven o’clock. The wind and rain were so bad that there were hardly any pedestrians left on the streets. Leicester Square was virtually deserted.

  “It’s not going to be easy to get back home,” said David, as they stood in the entrance on the cinema. He looked at Jackie. “Are you OK?”

  Having put on her coat, Jackie was pulling him towards the Underground. “Come on!” she said. “We’d better get a move on.”

  She ran down the stairs with David following. On the platform the indicator board said the next southbound train was in two minutes. At least the Underground is working, David thought. They could hear the train in the tunnel and the stale, dusty air on the platform began to move as the train emerged into the station. It squealed to a halt and the doors opened. The carriage was almost empty and no one emerged. Jackie sat on one side of the carriage, facing David on the opposite side. In the rush from the cinema to the station, she hadn’t had time to do up her coat and it now fell open. The hem of her dress had, once again, ridden up her shapely thighs. David watched, quite fixated, as the movement of the train gently shook her knees.

  Fully aware of his complete attention, Jackie slightly opened her knees and forced her shoulder blades into the back of the seat. This made her bottom slide towards the edge of the seat, pulling the hem of her dress even further up her thighs. The train was slowing down as it entered Charing Cross station. Jackie put her knees together and leant forward, balancing on the edge of her seat, to talk to David.

  “I like you,
David Varley,” she announced. “And I want to know so much more about you.”

  “I like you too, Jackie Bleasdale,” he replied, as the train, once again, squealed to a halt.

  The doors opened and closed, but there were no new passengers. With a couple of exaggerated jerks, the train set off towards Embankment. Jackie leant back again and parted her knees. David could see her black, sheer knickers, so sheer that nothing at all was left to his imagination. He tried to lean forward but found that the bulge in his trousers was too restricting. The train was now slowing as it came into Embankment. Once again, Jackie leant forward, closing her knees. As David looked through the window, he noticed that there were no passengers on the platform. The train stopped and the only other passenger in their carriage got up and left. As the train left, Jackie stood up and quickly took off her knickers. As she sat down again, she said, “Lick me!” She commanded.

  David knelt in front of her, as she opened her knees and put her heels onto the seats either side. David could smell the now familiar, musky aroma as he pressed his face between her legs. He pushed his tongue into her and tasted her sweetness, as her flower opened revealing her bud. He gently nibbled at it with his teeth and was rewarded as he heard her sharp intake of breath, followed by a gentle moan. Her knees closed, tightly holding his head in place.

  Suddenly, he felt the train brake and the intensity between them was broken. She released him and, as he stood up, the train lurched causing him to lose balance and fall onto her. She put her arms tightly round him and kissed him, feverishly. Releasing him, she stood up and deftly put on her knickers.

  The train now entered Waterloo station and they got out. They hurried up to the surface to check on the trains to Richmond. A notice board announced, “All trains to Richmond are cancelled.” David looked round and saw a guard at the barrier.

  “What’s happened on the Richmond Line?” he asked.

  “Tree down, mate,” the guard replied. “Won’t be opening until at least tomorrow afternoon.”

  “How do we get back to Richmond?”

  “Suggest you get a bus.”

  “Do you know the number?”

  “Yeah. Hang on a sec.” The guard called to another employee. “What’s the number for buses to Richmond?”

  “You have to get a 211 to Hammersmith. Change there and get a 419 to Richmond,” he called back.

  “Did you get that?”

  “Yes thanks,” said David.

  They left the station, to catch the bus for Hammersmith. They were lucky as they didn’t have to wait too long, before a big, red double decker came into view, displaying 211 on the front. They bought their tickets and climbed to the upper deck. No one else was there and they chose to sit at the front. As they went over the river, David noticed that the water seemed unusually high. He realised that the tide was coming in, but High Water wouldn’t be for another five hours or so.

  “Look at the river,” he remarked. “There seems to be a lot of water.”

  “What’s the problem?” replied Jackie.

  “I realise that the tide’s coming in,” David muttered. “When I was talking to Mr Smith, he said something about the Spring tides. That’s right!” He remembered. “High tide will be at about half past four in the morning, so it’ll just be past Low Tide at the moment. That means there should be plenty of mud banks, but there aren’t.”

  As the bus reached the halfway point, the wind buffeted it quite severely and Jackie caught hold of David’s arm.

  “Let’s go down,” she suggested.

  “Hang on a sec. There’s too much water in the river for it to be Low Tide. The tide will be coming in quite fast now. This must be the result of all the rain we’ve had yesterday and today. And I expect they’ll have closed the Thames Barrier.”

  “What are you going on about?” she asked.

  “The river. Look!” He pointed at the water just as the bus turned left into Parliament Square.

  “I can’t see anything. These buildings are in the way. Anyway, what did you mean?”

  “It’s the weather,” he replied. “This storm is far more severe than normal and it’s come at just the wrong time.”

  “Why? What do you mean?”

  “Every spring and autumn, we get really high tides, called Spring Tides. The moon’s gravity makes the tides higher than normal. But we’ve also got really high winds in the English Channel. They push the sea in front of it. This means that there is more water than normal at Dover and upwards into the North Sea. Plus, we’ve had so much rain that the countryside is saturated and the rainwater is draining straight into the rivers. There’s far more water in them than normal. That’s probably why the river is so high just now.”

  “But it’ll just flow away to the sea, won’t it?”

  “Yes. But if the tide is higher than normal, then the Thames Barrier will be closed to stop the tide rising too high in London. Like here. And if it is closed, then the river will continue to fill up with all the rainwater coming off the land up beyond Oxford and out to the west. I expect it’s always a tricky decision when to close the barrier. If it’s still open, they’ll want as much river water as possible to flow out.”

  “But, doesn’t this happen every year?”

  “Not to this intensity. I forgot to tell you that there’s another storm causing all the snow in Scotland. It’s also blowing the sea down the North Sea southwards towards the Thames estuary. I think we’re going to be in for a very difficult few days.”

  Chapter 12

  Thursday Morning

  With the depression now centred over Oxford and still deepening, the winds in the English Channel increased to Hurricane Force. The sea had become so dangerous that all shipping was confined to port. There had been sporadic flooding as High Tide slowly moved eastwards along the south coast. The effect of the fierce winds on the Spring Tide was to increase the height of the tide to record levels and the towering waves had caused some local damage to the coastline infrastructure.

  The depression centred between the Shetland Islands and Stavanger in southern Norway was having a similar effect on the height of the tides. There had been flooding in the Firth of Forth and along the north eastern coastline of England. The wind speed had remained at Storm level and this had been exacerbated by the driving snow. All shipping was confined to port.

  At midnight, David and Jackie reached Richmond and as their bus crossed the Thames once more, David again remarked at the water level.

  “Look, Jackie,” he said, pointing at the river. “The level of the water is incredibly high. That’s been caused by all the rain we’ve had over the past couple of days.”

  “Yes, and it’s still raining now,” Jackie replied. “I’m not too sure how I’m going to get home. I really didn’t expect to be as late as this.”

  “Well, we can’t be blamed for a tree being blown down on the railway line. You can always come and stay with us, if that’s OK?”

  “Oh! Are you sure? Thanks. I’m sure that’ll be fine. I’ll just send a text to my mum, to let her know,” she replied, getting out her phone. “I can get a cab back home in the morning.”

  They got off the bus and scurried to David’s home as quickly as possible, through the gales and the blustering rain. When they crashed through the front door, Sarah went into the hall to check on the commotion, only to be confronted by two soaking wet, but exhilarated teenagers.

  “You look like a pair of drowned rats.” She ushered them into the kitchen. “Hello,” she said, looking at the bedraggled girl in front of her. “You must be Jackie.” She turned to David. “I was expecting you home earlier than this.”

  “Oh yes!” Jackie stammered a reply. “I mean ‘Hi’. Yes, I’m Jackie.”

  “Mum, please listen.” David started to explain. "We’ve had a great evening, but the journey home has been really difficult because of this storm. All the trains from Waterloo to Richmond have been cancelled because of a tree being blown down onto the line near Barnes, s
o we’ve been forced to come back by bus and that takes forever. We didn’t get into Richmond until after midnight and we’ve rushed back as quickly as possible.

  “The rain is really heavy and the wind feels like it’s getting stronger,” Jackie added.

  “So I suggested to Jackie that she should stay with us over night.” David looked keenly at his mother. “She’s texted her mum and that all seems to be OK. But I do think she should have a shower very soon because we’re both soaking wet.”

  “Yes. You’re right.” Sarah looked at them both. “I’ll get you some night clothes, Jackie, but get upstairs quickly. And leave your dress out for me to wash and dry. I’ll get the spare room ready for you. Go on! Quickly! Upstairs!”

  “Thanks, Mrs Varley. I’m sorry to cause all this fuss.”

  “Yes! That’s fine. Go on, before you catch your death.” She shooed Jackie out of the kitchen. “You’ll find a bath towel in the bathroom cupboard. Leave your dress outside the door over the bannisters.”

  Jackie shrugged out of her coat. David took it from her and hung it over a radiator. He took off his own coat and did the same. He looked at his mother, who had an enigmatic look on her face, as though she was trying not to smile. They heard the water heater in the kitchen fire up and Sarah said that she must get Jackie’s dress sorted. David looked at her, wondering why her accent had become rather more Yorkshire.

  Sarah nodded at David and said, “You’d better get yourself upstairs as well and leave your clothes for me to deal with.” And with that, she ushered him through the door and up the stairs. Once upstairs, David stripped off his shirt and trousers, handing them to his mother, who had already picked up the dress. She went back downstairs to the utility room, where she started a short wash programme. She heard the shower stop and knew that David would be in the bathroom with the girl. And precious little I can do about that, she thought.