Civvy Street

by Fiona Field

  ‘Girls, have either of you got a signal?’

  ‘Mum, we haven’t got anything,’ said Ella. ‘Our phones haven’t been charged since you took them so the batteries are flat.’

  ‘Oh.’ Bugger. ‘OK, I’ll turn around, drive back a way. There must be somewhere around here where we can get a phone call through.’ She handed Katie her mobile. ‘Shout if you get a signal and I’ll stop the car.’

  She switched the engine back on and, looking over her shoulder, reversed back up the lane to the gate and turned the car around. All she wanted now was to find that blasted main road and get back to the relative safety of her own home. Even if it had been flooded, and was cold and damp and miserable, it would be better than sitting out here, miles from anywhere and low on petrol.

  *

  The rugby club was packed out, thronged with press representing newspapers, television and radio. On his way to the clubhouse Mike had passed half a dozen vans with satellite dishes on their roofs ready to beam the stories back to London, or wherever, ready for the next newscast. Inside, at the far end of the room from the door and the bar which stretched the width of the room, a couple of portable lights had been positioned either side of the long table from which the chief superintendent would make his report of the latest situation and then answer questions. The table had been covered in a blue cloth and in front of the chief super’s seat was a battery of microphones, most of which had the broadcasters’ logos clipped to them. Between him and the table were rows of chairs seating dozens and dozens of reporters.

  Mike squeezed down the side of the players’ bar, stepping over cables, briefcases and legs to make his way to the front. He looked about him. Where was the chief super? He collared a constable standing nearby.

  ‘Where’s the boss?’ he asked.

  ‘Been held up. He won’t be here for another thirty minutes.’

  ‘Thirty minutes?’ Mike looked at the crowd in front of him. ‘This lot won’t be happy. Can you get hold of him and ask him if he wants to issue some sort of statement to keep this lot quiet till he can get here?’

  ‘I’ll call the station, sir, find out how the land lies.’

  That wasn’t quite what Mike had asked him to do but it would suffice in the short term. A couple of minutes later the constable came back to Mike with an answer.

  ‘OK, sir, they passed on a message. He said could you do the press briefing? He says you probably know more than he does and if we wait for him to get here, the chances are the TV news reporters will miss the one o’clock news slot and they won’t be happy.’

  Mike suddenly knew what a deer in the headlights must feel like. Brief this lot?! He stared at the faces in front of him and realised one or two of them were familiar. He mightn’t be able to put names to them but he’d seen them often enough on his TV in the evening. As he looked he noticed several of the assembled journalists were looking at their watches. In a few minutes those with tight deadlines to deliver an up-to-the-minute report of the situation would get anxious.

  Mike took a deep breath. He could do this. He would feel more comfortable if he could have a stiffener first but that wasn’t an option. He moved to stand behind the chair in the centre of the table and held up his hand.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ he began. The hubbub in the room died away and someone threw the switch for the lamps. Mike was half blinded for a few seconds. Sheesh, they were bright. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, as you can see I am not the chief superintendent. My name is Mike Collins and I am the emergency planning officer for Winterspring District Council.’ Now he’d got going, he began to feel more at ease. He pulled the chair out and sat down, then he moved the chief super’s nameplate off the table and put his notes down in its place. Digital cameras flashed, red lights appeared on handheld film cameras and pens started to race across notebooks. Mike took another deep breath and began. ‘So, the situation is this...’

  *

  Maddy was getting increasingly fraught. Where the hell was Susie? She should have been here ages ago. She glanced at her watch for the umpteenth time. Forty-five minutes. This was now ridiculous and worse, really worrying. Where was she?

  Maddy picked up her phone and tried to call Susie.

  ‘The person you are trying to call is unable to answer their phone right now,’ an automatic message told her. Well, that’s no bloody good, thought Maddy. She sighed and called Jenna instead.

  ‘Maddy! Where are you? I was expecting you back ages ago.’

  ‘I’m still waiting for Susie.’

  ‘You mean she hasn’t got to you yet?’

  ‘No, and I can’t get hold of her.’

  ‘You’re joking.’

  ‘I only wish I was. I’m going to ring Seb to see if he can get some guys out looking for her.’

  ‘You can’t,’ said Jenna.

  ‘I’m not with you.’

  ‘Seb phoned here earlier. He says if you need him, you’ve got to get Mike Collins to pass a message because he’s lost his phone.’

  ‘He’s what?’ Maddy screeched, frustration and worry finally making her lose it.

  ‘Hey, Mads, I’m just the messenger.’

  ‘But that’s hopeless. I haven’t got Mike’s number, only Susie’s, and I can’t get hold of Susie... Oh shit, this is getting worse and worse.’ Maddy reviewed the situation. ‘OK, I’m going to come home. I’ve got a mate who lives here so I’ll ask him to keep a lookout for Susie and tell her how to get to ours. There’s nothing I can do, stuck here. In the meantime, if you can bung that chicken in the oven so that lunch can be served before it’s time for supper, I’d be very grateful.’

  ‘Sure thing, Mads. See you in a little while.’

  Maddy chucked her phone on the passenger seat and drove to the other side of the green and Rollo’s house. She parked the car in his drive and raced past the elegant façade of the country house to the front door where she hauled on the bell-pull. Trust Rollo, she thought, not to have an ordinary electric doorbell like most of the rest of the population of the country. She sheltered under the beautiful shell porch until the door was finally answered.

  ‘Maddy!’ He sounded pleased to see her.

  ‘Sorry to spoil things but this isn’t a social call, Rollo, and I’m not stopping.’

  ‘You can still step inside in the dry.’

  Maddy did and was instantly gobsmacked by the chequerboard-tiled hall with its grand staircase and beautiful proportions. So much for her army quarter, she thought, before she explained the situation. ‘So can I ask you to keep a weather eye out for this car – a green Golf? And if she does get here can you give her directions from here to my place?’

  ‘Of course, Maddy. Anything for you, you know that.’

  ‘Good, then I must be going.’

  ‘So soon? Don’t you want to see round my new pad?’

  Of course Maddy did but not today. ‘Another time. Tell you what, I’ll come to the house-warming. I have no doubt it’ll be one helluva party.’

  ‘You have no idea of the plans I’m making.’

  Maddy opened the door again. ‘A green Golf. Don’t forget. And if she appears you’re to ring me. Understand?’

  She returned to her car and as she put the key in the lock she saw Rollo waving goodbye to her. What he needed, she thought, was a wife. As she pulled away she began to wonder if she knew anyone who might be suitable. Stop it, she told herself. He was not good husband material. Mind you, she thought, given some of Seb’s track record, what exactly did constitute good husband material?

  When she got back and let herself into her house, she found a scene of relative tranquillity with Eliot asleep on Jenna’s lap, while Rose and Nathan were sat on the floor each with a biscuit and a drink watching Peppa Pig.

  ‘Hiya,’ she said.

  ‘Shh, Mummy,’ remonstrated Nathan before he returned his attention to his favourite TV programme.

  ‘Hang on,’ whispered Jenna, moving Eliot so he draped over her shoulder and hauling herself o
ut of the chair. She and Maddy went into the kitchen.

  ‘The chicken’s on,’ said Jenna as she reached for the kettle. ‘Tea?’

  Maddy looked at the kitchen clock. ‘Given the morning I’ve had, I think it’s time for something stronger.’

  ‘Go for it,’ said Jenna.

  Maddy opened the fridge and got out a bottle of white wine. She offered it to Jenna.

  ‘Yes, please,’ she said. ‘So what is happening about Susie?’

  ‘I don’t know. I can’t get hold of her, I can’t get hold of anyone who can, I can’t even get hold of my husband and I’m worried sick. I’ve just got to hope she’ll be all right.’

  Chapter 46

  Susie stared at the road ahead in horror and at the water which covered it from side to side.

  ‘Oh no,’ she whispered.

  ‘It wasn’t like this before,’ said Ella.

  ‘If we came this way – but we may not have done. I’ll turn around again; see if we can find another way.’ Susie felt panic rise in her again. She had to stay calm for the children’s sake. It wasn’t fair to them to let them know just how worried she was. ‘Has my phone got a signal yet?’

  ‘Nothing,’ said Katie.

  ‘Well, I’m sure we’ll get one again soon.’ For the second time that morning Susie put the car in reverse and backed down the narrow lane. It was tricky trying to steer down the centre of the tarmac; there was very little leeway for the least deviation and Susie went painfully slowly. After several hundred yards she found another gateway into a field and swung the car backwards into the gap.

  There was a sickening thump and crunch and the back of the car slumped at a crazy angle.

  ‘Mum!’ shrieked Ella and Katie.

  Susie froze. Oh fucking hell, she thought. ‘It’s probably nothing,’ she said. ‘I’ve probably just hit a stone or something.’ Her hands were shaking, she noticed, as she switched off the engine. She clambered out of the car awkwardly; the silly angle that it was at didn’t help matters. Praying that it was nothing serious she made her way to the back of the car. Nothing serious? Oh no, it was desperately serious. She shut her eyes – how on earth had she not seen the ditch? How could she have missed it? The rear wheel had gone into it and the bodywork of the Golf now rested on the sodden bank. The car wasn’t going to be going anywhere – not now, not without a tractor or a recovery vehicle to tow it out. Susie wanted to cry.

  *

  The Peppa Pig DVD finished and was ejected from the machine.

  ‘Aw,’ complained Nathan. He stumped across the room on his chubby legs and took it out of the slot ready to put it back in its box.

  Jenna, still cradling a sleeping Eliot while Maddy pottered around in the kitchen preparing vegetables, picked up the remote and flicked through the channels. She went past the BBC news channel and her finger froze on the button.

  ‘Mads. Mads! Come in here.’

  Maddy dashed through.

  ‘Look!’

  Maddy did and there on the screen was Mike Collins, holding forth to dozens of the nation’s pressmen and women.

  ‘Blimey,’ she said.

  The two women listened as Mike took questions about the state of the floods, the number of people evacuated, the arrangements for the evacuees and predictions for the coming days.

  ‘He sounded quite the man of the moment,’ said Maddy, as the newscaster introduced the next story.

  ‘Pretty impressive,’ agreed Jenna.

  ‘Susie ought to be here, watching this with us.’

  Jenna nodded. ‘Ought you to try her again?’

  ‘I did, just a while ago. Nothing.’

  ‘Do you think we ought to ring the police?’

  ‘And tell them what? We don’t even know where she is. For all we know she might be safe at home.’

  ‘If she were at home she’d be answering her phone,’ Jenna reasoned. ‘She gets a signal up at Winterspring Ducis. Unless she’s run out of battery.’

  Maddy dithered. Was she being overdramatic about the possible plight of her friend? The police presumably had more than enough to do without her adding to the burden by reporting Susie missing. But then, if she didn’t and something happened to Susie and the girls, she’d never be able to live with herself. She was on the brink of picking up the phone when someone hammered at the door.

  ‘What the...?’ Maddy was perplexed. Who would bang on the door and ignore a perfectly serviceable doorbell?

  ‘Ahh,’ said Jenna. ‘Forgot to tell you, Camilla wants to see you.’

  ‘Camilla?’ Maddy headed for the front door and opened it. ‘Camilla.’ She faked a smile of greeting. ‘What can I do for you?’

  ‘I want to talk to you about the community centre files. There are some missing.’

  Maddy folded her arms; she wasn’t having her Sunday interrupted for this. No way. Camilla might sleep, eat and breathe the army twenty-four-seven but Maddy had a life. ‘You know, now really isn’t a good time. I’ve got a friend here for lunch and I am seriously worried about Susie and her daughters who were also due to join us. They were supposed to meet me earlier and they never turned up. So, to be honest, the last thing I want to do right now is worry about some missing file. I’m sure it’s something that can wait till Monday.’

  ‘Well, really,’ said Camilla, taken aback and disapproving of Maddy’s attitude.

  ‘Sorry, but that’s how it is.’ Maddy started to shut the door. ‘Although... are you in contact with the colonel?’

  Camilla nodded.

  ‘And he’s out helping with the floods, like the rest of the battalion?’

  Camilla nodded again. ‘But I don’t see—’

  Maddy held her hand up to silence her. ‘Good. I need to get a message about Susie through to Mike. Seb’s lost his phone and I don’t have Mike’s mobile number so, presumably, Jack might be able to help with that.’

  ‘You want Jack to phone Mike?’ Camilla looked down her nose at Maddy.

  ‘Well, yes. Or talk to him, or send a runner with a cleft stick. Camilla, really I don’t care how Jack communicates with Mike but he needs to know that Susie might be stuck out there in the floods. I’m really worried, Camilla.’

  ‘But why should Jack do something for a man who has given him nothing but trouble?’

  ‘For God’s sake, Camilla, I have no idea what you’re on about and even if I did understand we’re not talking about some petty squabble between two grown men, but about a woman and her children who might be in danger.’ Maddy was tempted to tell Camilla to grow up but decided that might be a step too far.

  Camilla leaned closer towards Maddy. ‘Do you realise that Mike has done his best to humiliate and undermine Jack?’

  From what Maddy knew of Jack she thought he was perfectly capable of humiliating himself. ‘But how? How could Mike do that; he’s nothing to do with Jack or the army any more.’

  ‘He’s the emergency planning officer and, according to Jack, he’s been behaving like some jumped-up little Hitler. Jack’s in charge of 1 Herts and yet Mike seems to think he should direct operations at the flood, not Jack. And what authority has Mike got for that, tell me that?’

  ‘I... I...’ Maddy was at a complete loss. ‘But isn’t that his job?’

  ‘How on earth can someone like Mike order round Jack?’

  The way Camilla put it, she made Mike sound like he was some sort of plebeian imbecile trying to direct affairs of state, not an expert in his field managing extra resources.

  ‘Look, Camilla, I don’t want to get involved in this and I don’t care what is going on between your husband and Susie’s but it doesn’t alter the fact that I think she’s in real danger and the only way I seem to have of getting a message to the people on the ground is via your husband. So are you going to help or aren’t you?’

  Camilla stared at her and for a second Maddy thought she was going to refuse. ‘If I must.’

  Maddy just managed to stop herself rolling her eyes in exasperation. ‘And I
’ll come round to yours on Monday to talk about the community centre, promise.’ She had to placate the old bat somehow.

  ‘Good, see that you do. Ten o’clock.’ And with that, Camilla swept off. Maddy longed to call after her to remember to phone Jack about Susie but felt that it might just antagonise her into being contrary. Maddy didn’t trust Camilla as far as she could spit.

  ‘Will she do it?’ asked Jenna, leaning against the sitting room door.

  Maddy shrugged. ‘If she’s got the least conscience she will.’

  Jenna snorted. ‘If I were you, I’d report it to the police – just in case. Better safe than sorry, if you ask me.’

  *

  Mike finished the press conference and forced himself not to slump back in his seat as the reporters and cameramen filed back out of the rugby club bar. The TV and radio guys had buggered off some twenty minutes earlier to get the story back to their respective studios for the one o’clock slot but the print and other forms of media had stuck around asking further questions for some time. And now he felt absolutely wrung out, although he didn’t think it would be terribly professional to allow his exhaustion to show publicly. It was partly lack of sleep but it was also because of the stress of being thrust into the limelight at no notice and being expected to handle a difficult situation with no experience of doing anything like it in the past. Trying not to yawn he gathered his papers together and then stood up ready to follow the last of the throng from the room.

  ‘Well done, mate,’ said the police constable he’d spoken to earlier.

  ‘Thanks, you really think so?’

  ‘The press are happy, you made sense, everyone understands what’s being done to help the victims... I’d say that’s a result.’

  Mike felt a surge of relief that he’d really got things right. Thank goodness he’d not made a fool of himself in front of TV cameras and the nation’s press. He headed for the door and the path down to the pub.

  Outside the club it was still raining – no surprise there, he thought – and despite the fact it was still early afternoon it was already twilight. Down by the river, emergency lights were blazing as the army and volunteers continued to battle the floods with sandbags and Mike had no doubt that all along the Bavant valley the scene was being repeated. No one, he thought, could possibly say that everything that was humanly possible wasn’t being done for the locals.