by Fiona Field
Wearily he pushed open the front door of the pub and headed back in to the warm and dry. The first thing he noticed, as he kicked off his wellingtons in the porch, was the noise level. A terrific hubbub of voices was cascading out of the bar. How come there were so many more people than when he left to do the press conference just forty minutes earlier? Where had they all come from? He pushed open the inner door to the saloon bar. Well, the noise level matched the number of people he saw – no mistake there. The place was chock full. Mike squeezed through the door and began to push his way back to the table he’d been working at before he’d left.
‘ID, mate.’
‘What?’ Mike was confused – why on earth did someone want his ID? He looked in the direction the voice had come from.
‘ID,’ the voice repeated. It was a policeman. Then Mike noticed the copper’s stab vest and the logo emblazoned across the front. He wasn’t from the local constabulary but the Metropolitan Police. What the hell...?
‘Sorry,’ said Mike, ‘can I ask why?’
The constable sighed. ‘Security.’
‘I gathered that,’ said Mike, ‘but I’ve been working from this pub for twenty-four hours now and no one has wanted it yet.’
‘Maybe, but I want it now.’
Mike hauled out his lanyard from under his jacket and showed the constable his council pass.
‘Thank you, sir.’
Mike pushed his way further into the room. In the corner, where the maps were pinned to noticeboards, he could see the chief super holding forth. So, the boss had managed to get here, at last. Mike wondered briefly what had held him up and then he clocked just who the chief was briefing. Bloody hell – the prime minister. The PM in a high-vis jacket and waders. Well, that explained the need for those and why new ones had been so important. And it also explained why he’d suddenly had to deputise at the press briefing. And no wonder there was security on the door.
Mike ducked away from the VIPs, the hangers-on and the brown-nosers all congregated around the politician. And – oh God, wouldn’t you just know it – Colonel Rayner; trust him to try and cosy up to the prime minister. He found his way back to his corner and chucked his papers down. He’d been hoping to get another few minutes’ shut-eye but fat chance with this circus going on around him. To keep himself awake he glanced at his phone. There was a missed call from Susie and another from Jack Rayner – like he was going to return that one. If that git wanted to talk to him he could walk across the bar and do it. Instead he returned Susie’s. Straight to voicemail and there was no point in trying the kids’ phones – not since he’d confiscated them himself. He hoped to goodness she’d got through to Maddy’s. Of course she had. He’d have heard if she hadn’t.
‘Mike, can I have a word?’
Mike looked up to see the chief superintendent standing beside him. He dropped his phone back on the table.
‘Of course, sir. What can I do for you?’
‘I hear the press briefing went very well.’
‘Thank you, sir. Of course, they weren’t a tough audience. It wasn’t as if I was in the frame for anything illegal or immoral, so no nasty questions, no curve-balls or anything like that.’
‘Even so, Mike...’ The chief super clapped him on the shoulder. ‘And the PM would like a word, too. He caught the gist of your press briefing on the radio on his way down here. He was impressed.’
Blimey, praise indeed. Mike only wished Rayner had heard the compliment getting passed on, and then he checked himself for being so infantile. What did it matter what Rayner thought, anyway?
The chief super led Mike through the crowd of people, who parted as he approached as if he were Moses.
‘Sir,’ he said, when he reached the familiar figure, ‘you wanted to meet Mike Collins.’
The PM stuck out his hand and grasped Mike’s warmly. ‘Mike, good to meet you. I can’t tell you how impressed I was by the way you handled the press conference. Done like a true pro.’ He laughed self-deprecatingly. ‘And I should know. I’m also told that the smooth running of this operation is largely down to your planning.’
Mike could feel himself blushing and out of the corner of his eye he could see Rayner positively hopping with frustration that he wasn’t being included in this conversation. ‘Thank you, sir. I suppose I was lucky with my background.’
‘Which was?’ The PM sounded genuinely interested, but a bit of Mike wondered if it was a front that professional politicians were adept at putting on. Either way, he could hardly ignore the question.
‘Ex-army, Prime Minister.’
‘The army’s loss is Winterspring District Council’s gain, I’d say.’
‘Thank you, sir. Not that it was desperately difficult to sort things out. Basically I made sure the essentials were in place—’
‘Which were? interrupted the PM.
‘Oh, er, shelter for the evacuees, food, power and sanitation – plenty of water and portaloos. And the teams working here have been utterly brilliant and tireless in sorting all of that out.’
‘Even so, people get stressed and upset in these circumstances and I haven’t heard much in the way of complaints.’
‘With all due respect, sir, I think people are too busy at the moment, trying to keep the worst of the disaster at bay, to worry about complaining. I bet they will when it’s all over. But in the meantime we’re trying to keep everyone as well-informed as possible. Generally, as long as people know what’s going on, or what’s being done on their behalf, they stay calmer. It’s being kept in the dark that gets people’s goat. We’ve been careful to make sure as many of the victims as possible know what the emergency services have been doing on their behalf, and to inform people what they can do to help themselves, and, more importantly, what they can do to help others. People like to feel as if they are making a contribution – they feel valued. It all helps.’
‘All I can say, Mike, is that it’s worked. Well done. I’m proud to be a member of a country where we have inspirational chaps like you working on our behalf.’
The prime minister was led away by the chief super to meet other people who had been helping out with the floods and Mike was left with a warm glow at the words of praise. Of course, he realised about a minute later, this had been praise from a professional politician – he would say such stuff, wouldn’t he? – but, even so, it couldn’t do any harm where his future was concerned.
He watched the PM’s retreating back view and Jack Rayner, trying to muscle his way forward to have a word, but the PM’s close protection officers thwarted that attempt, much to Mike’s amusement. He turned away. Now that his moment in the sun was over, maybe he could get a few minutes’ rest uninterrupted. Mike made his way back to his corner, right away from the PM’s entourage, and sat down. He shut his eyes. Just five minutes...
‘I see you were busy sucking up just now.’
Mike snapped his eyes open. Rayner. There’s a surprise, he thought.
‘I wasn’t “sucking up”,’ he replied.
‘It looked like it from where I was standing.’
Mike was very tempted to retort with, And where was that? Out in the cold, right on the edge? but decided it wasn’t worth it. ‘Look, Colonel, I am very tired. I’ve had a couple of hours’ sleep at the most in the last twenty-four, so unless it’s important could we leave this till another time?’
‘If that’s what you want. I was going to pass on some information but...’ Jack smiled nastily, ‘...as you’re too tired, it can wait.’
Momentarily Mike wondered what the information might be and he was tempted to ask what it was. But, fuck it. He’d rather get his head down than spend any more time at all talking to this git. ‘Later then.’ He hoped Jack got the hint.
‘As you wish.’
Mike shut his eyes and was out for the count in a nano- second.
Chapter 47
‘Mum, I’m cold.’
‘Me too,’ said Ella.
‘I know, darlings, I am t
oo. And if the car wasn’t kaput I’d switch the engine on to get the heater going.’
‘Try, Mummy.’ Katie’s teeth were actually chattering.
Susie turned the key in the ignition again and the car coughed and spluttered but the engine refused to fire. She’d had several goes at getting it going, trying for thirty seconds at a time to get the engine to turn over, but the car wasn’t going to play ball. Obviously, when she’d dropped the back end into the ditch the damage extended further than just bending a rear wing but Susie didn’t know enough about cars to understand that ploughing the exhaust pipe into a bank and blocking it made it impossible for the engine to work.
‘What have you got in your backpacks?’ she said. ‘Let’s put on as many layers as we can.’
Ella, in the back seat, passed Katie’s backpack forwards and unzipped her own. The girls extricated their school sweatshirts which they put under their hoodies and then put their anoraks back on top.
‘Better?’ said Susie.
‘A bit,’ they admitted.
Susie looked through the car windscreen at the encroaching water. It had been down by the bend in the road a while ago and now the flood was only about twenty yards away. It wasn’t deep – maybe only a few inches – but it was creeping closer and closer and who knew how deep it would end up once they were in the thick of it.
‘Do you think we’ll be here all night?’ asked Katie.
‘Goodness, no,’ said Susie with false confidence. ‘I bet half of the Wiltshire police force is out looking for us by now.’
‘Do you think?’
Susie nodded. ‘And it won’t be dark for ages yet,’ she added, more to reassure herself rather than her daughters. But as she said it she noticed the light was fading fast, the colours were starting to leach out of the already drab countryside. She glanced at the car clock. Three o’clock. At this end of November there was only about another hour left of useable daylight.
‘Why haven’t we seen any cars? asked Ella.
Why indeed, although Susie suspected it was because all the roads round and about were now flooded. ‘It’s not a very nice day to be out and about, is it? I expect most people have decided to stay indoors today.’
‘I wish we had,’ said Katie.
You and me both, thought Susie. ‘It’ll be something to tell your classmates on Monday.’
‘If we get rescued,’ said Ella.
‘Of course we will.’
‘But what if no one comes before it gets dark?’
‘Well, we’ll just have to put on all our spare clothes and snuggle down here for the night. But it won’t come to that.’
‘Won’t it?’
‘No.’ And she hoped her own mounting feeling of panic didn’t show in her voice.
*
‘Mike. Mike!’
Mike opened his eyes and instantly he was alert. He glanced at his watch – three thirty – and then looked at the nearest window. It was getting quite dark outside. Another night of misery for the poor people of the Bavant valley. He yawned as the last vestige of sleep left him. He looked at the constable who’d woken him. ‘You shouldn’t have let me sleep so long. I only needed a power-nap.’
The police officer didn’t look convinced. ‘I’d have let you sleep longer, mate, but we’ve had a misper report.’
‘Misper?’
‘Missing person. A Mrs Susie Collins. Any rela—’
‘Susie? That’s my wife.’ Mike felt a stab of worry punch him.
‘Oh. She was reported missing an hour or so ago – by a Mrs...’ The constable consulted his notebook.
‘Fanshaw,’ supplied Mike.
The constable looked up. ‘That’s right, sir. Anyway, we’ve had patrols out looking for her but they’ve not found any sign yet.’
That nugget of information wasn’t helping Mike’s blood pressure. He picked up his phone. Seb had called Maddy from his phone – the number would be in the call log. He scrolled through the menu till he found what he wanted and hit the icon.
‘Maddy. It’s Mike.’
‘Oh, Mike. Have they found her?’
‘No. Have you any idea where she might be?’
Maddy told him the story of the flood and the van driver and the planned rendezvous in Ashton-cum-Bavant.
‘So she could be anywhere?’ he said.
‘Only south of that road, I would think,’ said Maddy, with logic. ‘Mike, you will keep me in the picture, won’t you?’
Mike promised to, then he rang off and strode across the pub to where the maps of the area were. He squinted at the main one, his finger tracing the road from Winterspring Ducis to Warminster, and then south to the village of Ashton-cum-Bavant. The area Susie had to be in wasn’t huge. The trouble was, floodwater now affected quite a sizeable chunk of it.
The chief superintendent joined him. ‘I’ve just heard the news, Mike. I’m sorry.’
‘It’s a worry, certainly,’ said Mike, trying to sound calm when he was anything but.
‘We’re going to task the helicopter.’
Mike was about to ask if it was necessary, but only because it seemed such a drastic step and he didn’t really want to admit, even to himself, that his wife and children might be in serious danger. Instead, he just nodded and tried not to think about his family, out in the near-dark, in the pouring rain, cold, frightened and alone.
He busied himself with looking at the latest reports from the Environment Agency about the water levels and the forecast from the Met Office. He tried to find some positives in what they were saying but it was a struggle. The rain was set to continue through most of the night, although not as heavily, and the rivers were still rising but not as fast. The only conclusion Mike could draw was that things were set to get marginally worse before they got better. But how much worse?
‘Mike?’
He put the briefing papers back on the table and looked around. Who wanted him now? Talking of things getting worse...
‘Rob. What can I do for you?’ he said.
‘You didn’t tell me the prime minister was here?’ Rob glared at him.
Oh, for fuck’s sake. Another twat who felt they ought to have been introduced. Mike counted to three.
‘Well?’ insisted Rob.
‘I didn’t know myself he was going to be here. I got back from standing in for the chief super at the press briefing and there he was.’
Rob’s face indicated he didn’t believe a word he’d said. ‘Come off it.’
Mike had had enough. ‘Do you know, Rob, I really don’t care what you believe. I’m too tired and too busy to play games.’ He turned back to the reports on his table.
‘I hope you told him that the district council has done everything possible to try and mitigate the effect of a flood like this.’
Mike thought about the files in his briefcase, the peremptorily dismissed report about future flood defence planning, and nearly pointed out that while he’d done as much as he could, Rob had done the reverse. Instead he just said, ‘The question didn’t arise. All the PM wanted to know was what was actually happening and what we were doing to help those affected.’
‘Oh.’ Rob didn’t look particularly placated – not that Mike cared one way or the other. ‘Just as long as the council doesn’t come out of this in a bad light. It wouldn’t do, you know.’
Mike knew exactly what Rob was getting at and it wasn’t the council he was worried about but his own poor judgement. ‘No, Rob. I know what you mean.’
Oh yes.
*
Susie sat in the back of the car, cuddling her daughters, trying to keep them warm by holding them close to her. She wished she had a rug or a thermos or anything that she could offer them to help keep them warm but they’d left the house in such a rush she hadn’t thought about an emergency like this. The only good thing, she thought, was they were still dry. She leaned across Katie and rubbed condensation off the window but it was so dark outside now she couldn’t see a blind thing. She wondered what
the water level was doing.
‘Mum,’ said Ella. ‘My feet are wet.’
Susie froze. ‘What?’ She put her hand down and touched the mats in the footwell. Ella was right; the mats were sodden. Now things were getting really serious. She leaned forwards, squeezing herself between the two front seats and turned the headlight knob. Light beamed out across the road – or rather, where the road should have been. Instead they seemed to be in the middle of a lake.
Fuck, she thought as she sat back down on the back seat.
‘What are we going to do, Mummy?’ said Katie in a very shaky voice.
‘Nothing much we can do,’ said Susie. ‘But someone will come along. Even if we have to stay here all night.’ She put her arms back round her daughters and gave them both a cuddle. ‘We may get a bit wet and we may get a bit cold but people survive much worse than this. We’ll be all right. And I bet there are people out looking for us, lots and lots of people.’
‘You think?’ said Ella. She didn’t sound at all convinced.
‘Absolutely positive.’
‘Mummy...?’ said Katie.
‘Yes, sweetie.’
‘Is this punishment for being naughty?’
For a second Susie was dumbfounded. Why on earth would Katie think that? ‘Of course not. Besides, it’s not just us in this pickle, is it? Half the county is underwater and I can’t believe all those poor people did something dreadful. Anyway, you haven’t been so very naughty – not in the great scheme of things.’
‘We have, though,’ said Ella.
‘I don’t think smoking the odd ciggy deserves this.’
‘But it wasn’t just that,’ said Katie.
‘Maybe not, but I don’t think we need to talk about it right now.’
‘But we do,’ insisted Katie.
‘Like?’ asked Susie.
‘Like...’ Katie dried up.
‘Like we nicked money off you, Mummy,’ said Ella.
