`Unbelievable,' Evans agreed.
`Shotguns are a different matter, of course.'
`They are indeed,' Evans replied. Prescott's questions sounded conversational but the policeman didn't like the turn the discussion had taken.
`You have the permit records here?'
`We have a log. That's no secret. As you well know, we have to carry out periodic checks on storage security. But I can't tell you how many.'
`Well I've got four,' Prescott observed. `Assuming every farmer and grower has one. That could be well over a hundred.'
Evans made no reply.
`This situation creates an interesting dilemma,' Prescott continued. `After my little broadcast last night, I called on Diana Sheldon and asked her about the legal situation here. She was surprisingly forthcoming. As she sees it, Pentworth is what she called "beyond jurisdiction". Under the present circumstances it is beyond the enforcement of the monarch's writ. In other words, we're temporarily not part of the United Kingdom. Or course, when the crisis is over, it would revert to its former status. She cannot see any other course of action open to the Lord Chancellor other than to issue retrospective ratification of all reasonable actions taken by a democratically emergency government where such actions were in the interests of the populace as a whole. Are you following me?'
`Perfectly,' said Evans stiffly, feeling that he was getting the measure of the man. `What you're saying is that the police should be placed under your control.'
`Not my control, Harvey -- the control of the Pentworth Emergency Council -- a democratically elected body. Nothing revolutionary about that. It's the way the police has always been controlled.'
Evans mopped his face. He was hot and uncomfortable, his uniform tight because he had put on weight recently. Last time he had flown his microlight it had needed half the length of his paddock to unstick. It irritated him that Prescott looked cool and relaxed. He decided then that there was absolutely no way that Prescott was going to gain control of the police but he didn't want a confrontation now. `It will need thinking about. There's no need to change anything just yet.'
`Not just yet,' Prescott agreed.
`You ought to talk to Judge Hooper. Find out what he thinks of the legal situation.'
`A good point,' Prescott replied. `My immediate concern is that this honeymoon period with the people won't last if the crisis continues, as I'm sure it will. Within a month or so we'll need a much enlarged and much tougher police force -- one that will be called upon to enforce a number of unpopular measures.'
`If the crisis persists.'
`I have a feeling in my bones that it will. Perhaps for as long as a thousand years.'
`Hitler wanted his Third Reich to last a thousand years,' Evans observed pointedly. `It didn't last one and half decades.'
`Precisely, Harvey. For us to survive means that we're going to have to be a lot tougher than Hitler.’
Chapter 47.
`WHAT DO YOU THINK?' Suzi asked her husband.
Harding examined the four-metre diameter satellite TV dish that his wife had covered with aluminium baking foil. The dish, minus its electronics but with three support arms meeting at the focal point, was mounted on a frame that wasn't fixed down. He had bought the thing the year before with the idea of using it to receive Band C satellite TV transmissions but it had proved too big and cumbersome to be practical, and besides, the neighbours had complained. He had considered sinking it flush into the lawn as an ornamental pond but had never found the time.
`Excellent, darling,' he exclaimed.
`Devil of a job getting it to stick down smooth.'
`Where did you get the foil from? The shops aren't supposed to sell non-perishable goods.'
`Diana Sheldon obtained it on a town hall requisition note.'
`Well it certainly looks the business,' said Harding. Let's get it in position.'
They manoeuvred the dish until Harding was satisfied that it was pointing at the sun. He climbed a step stool. Suzi passed him a full black-enamelled whistling kettle which he hooked onto one of the LNB support arms so that it was hanging in the dish's focal point.
`How long?' asked Suzi.
`I've really no idea. But it must be receiving about 3000 watts.'
A few moments later Suzi said: `This reminds me of the saying about a watched kettle.'
`Give it time.'
At that moment the kettle started a faint singing. A minute later it was rumbling, and then steam was screaming through its whistle.
Harding was delighted. `Go and fetch the teapot, darling -- we might as well make use of it.’
Chapter 48.
`BUT, DARLING,' ANNE PLEADED. `You must go to school. It's reopening on Wednesday.'
Vikki played with the tablecloth, unconsciously twisting the corner only with her right hand. Ever since the Pentworth House milkmaid had seen her climbing out the pool using both hands, she had virtually stopped using her left hand. It now lay out of sight on her lap, its usual position when it had been artificial.
`I need more time, mum.'
Anne sighed. `You'll have to face up to it sooner rather than later, Vikki.'
`Well I'd rather it was later. Please, mum -- just give me time.'
`What about Saturday morning? What did Ellen's note say?'
`She still wants me to go in. She wants me to help with some drying work in the greenhouses. I'd like to go so long as I'm not left alone in the shop.'
`Can you manage?'
`Well I've managed before with my real hand!'
`Vikki -- that is your real hand.'
`Miss Duncan usually leaves me by myself in the greenhouses. She won't notice. But they will at school.'
`You could wear gloves all the time. They'd never say anything. You told me that they never stare.'
`They might,' said Vikki sulkily. `I don't want to go back.'
Anne sighed. She didn't know what else to suggest. Vikki had been withdrawn and difficult ever since the incident with the milk delivery girl. It was like the two hellish years of her puberty all over again. Then she had an idea.
`Would you like Sarah to come and stay with us for a few days?'
Vikki's eyes lit up immediately. It was something she had never dared suggest because of her mother's reservations about Sarah's morals. `I'd love that, mum!' She jumped up and flung her arms around Anne.
`She could have the spare room,' Anne suggested.
`No. No. We could squeeze another bed in my room! Oh, mum -- you're wonderful.'
Anne laughingly disengaged herself and reached automatically for the telephone, stopping herself with a gesture of irritation. Her hand was still going to the light switch when entering a room. Habits of a lifetime died hard. `I'll go and see her. It's another lovely day so the walk won't hurt.'
`I'll come with you.'
`No,' said Anne firmly. `You'll do that essay. If you're going to skive off school then you'll spend the daylight hours working.'
Anne's other reason for going alone is that she wanted an opportunity for a serious talk with Sarah.
Chapter 49.
OF THE SEVERAL ACTION groups set up by Prescott -- he preferred to call them task forces -- the one to deal with the water problem produced the fastest results. Under the direction of Gerald Young, a team of volunteers sweated in the hot confines of the water tower to clean and line it. On Tuesday they broke open a Southern Water store and installed standpipes at several locations around the town. With the water tower filled and a daily schedule agreed with the town hall for use of a diesel pump to keep the tower primed, a limited drinking water supply for the town was back on stream from standpipes by Wednesday evening.
Prescott's broadcast that evening included an apology to those living on the outskirts and in rural areas for the lack of a supply. The Water Task Force had only a limited supply of standpipes and what resources there were had to be used for the benefit of the greatest number.
It was on the following day that Pentworth ex
perienced its foretaste of things to come.
A pickup driver and a helper with town hall authorisation to use the vehicle because they were collecting water for a village faced a barrage of abuse over the time they were taking to fill a cargo of water containers.
`The farms have got boreholes!' someone shouted. `They're taking our water!'
The scene degenerated into scuffles which the police broke up. Other than bruised egos, no one was hurt but Harvey Evans read a report of the incident with deep misgivings. It was a minor disturbance that required the presence of four police officers; for forty minutes the rest of the community had been without police cover on response.
Prescott didn't mention the matter on his evening broadcast but he did point out that, on balance, rural dwellers were more fortunate than their town counterparts.
`But it would be wrong,' he told his listeners, `to assume that those not living in the town must be living on farms. There are many remote houses and small communities whose needs must be considered.'
On Wednesday the schools reopened with parents required to provide packed lunches for their children.
On Thursday the Sanitation Task Force, with fifty volunteers, opened the first public toilets on Sandy Green near the town centre. The cubicles consisted of a neat row of twenty small garden sheds, each one fitted with a flushing lavatory supplied from a common header tank mounted on scaffold poles. Press-fit plastic soil pipe fittings purchased from a plumbers' merchants using promissory notes issued by the town hall made for an easy and quick installation. Discharge was into a covered cesspit that had been dug out by a JCB from a local plant hire company. The toilets were free but users had to provide their own paper. A rota of attendants to provide 24-hour cover was drawn up. Two more sites had been surveyed and were planned for the following day.
The majority of the populace had now visited the Wall and had experienced its strange powers at first hand. The growing feeling was that it might be in place for some time and there was much grief at the prospect of separation from loved ones. But, overall, morale was remarkably high, boosted to a considerable extent by the buzz of activity orchestrated by the town hall and Prescott's repeated calls for volunteers larded with his `Your community needs you' and his reading out each evening of the day's achievements. Long term unemployed who had lost much of their self-respect were shaken out of their lethargy when a spade was thrust in their hands and they were invited to join in the camaraderie of the working parties.
The continuing warm weather helped.
Chapter 50.
CATHY HAD OFTEN UNDERTAKEN graphic design work for Pentworth Town Council but this job was the most extraordinary order of all. She was sitting in her wheelchair and staring at her two visitors in some astonishment, her worries momentarily forgotten. They were Diana Sheldon and Vernon Kelly, a lean, serious young man whom Cathy knew slightly because he was the chief accountant at her bank.
`Money! Cathy exclaimed, looking up from the rough design she had been given. `You want me to design and print money!'
`Work vouchers,' the town clerk corrected. `We need them urgently.'
`Is this anything to with shops not being able sell non-perishable goods?'
`That was to stop panic-buying,' said the banker smoothly. `We need something like that design in denominations of 5, 10, 20, and 50 Euros, Miss Price. Mr Prescott had an urgent meeting with representatives from the banks this morning. I've been nominated chairman of the financial working party. In view of the present... Ah -- difficult situation we find ourselves in, all existing banknotes and accounts are frozen. All debits and credits have been suspended until further notice.'
`The banks have decided that the only way to deal with the situation is to stop the banking clock until the crisis is over,' said Diana.
Cathy grinned. She liked the town clerk. `Did they have much choice?'
Vernon Kelly's worried expression deepened. `Not really. As from now, the only valid currency will be work vouchers, but coins will still be allowed.'
`Should you be telling me this, Mr Kelly?'
`It'll be on the midday news.'
`Who will be issuing these vouchers?'
`The Emergency Council,' Vernon Kelly replied. `If you look at the wording--'
`I always thought banks could issue banknotes if they wished?'
`The work vouchers will be more like bonds rather than cash although they can be used as such,' said Diana. `We'll be issuing them in lieu of payment for public work and community service undertaken by individuals, and for pension payments. Initially, the only way of obtaining them will be by working apart from those issued to the sick and the elderly. After that they'll pass into circulation as currency. They'll be redeemable at their face value in Euros when the crisis is over.'
`Provided central government or the EU foot the bill?' said Cathy mischievously. `No wonder the banks didn't want to issue them.'
Vernon Kelly seemed keen to change the subject. `Miss Price, do you have a stock of unusual or distinctive paper that the council can purchase from you?'
Cathy indicated her stock cabinet. She was tempted to stand and walk but her new-found ability was causing her great misery by proving inconsistent; she was terrified of falling over and making a spectacle of herself. `There are about 40 reams of 100 gramme linen-based paper in there. I bought it from a specialist supplier in Spain. A menu job for a hotel chain. Expensive. I don't suppose it'll be needed now.'
The banker found the paper and examined one of the large A1-size sheets, running his fingernail over the surface. The heavy cream-laid paper had an unusual texture. `This will be excellent, Miss Price. Tough and durable -- just what we need. There must be quarter of a tonne of it here.'
`What happened to your monitor?' Diana asked.
`It got broken,' said Cathy laconically. `I've got a spare.'
`We should be able to get 120 vouchers on each sheet,' Vernon Kelly commented. `Do you have enough laser printer toner to print an initial five reams, Miss Price?'
`Plenty if the background design is simplified a bit. But there is one thing I haven't got.'
`What's that?'
`Electricity.'
`Oh that's all right,' said Diana. `We've got a mobile generator outside. It won't take my helpers a minute to connect it up. Shall we get started?'
Ten minutes later Cathy was intent on producing the basic voucher design on her Macintosh's computer screen. Normally she disliked having customers watching her work but her visitors insisted on staying in the room. But she was pleased to have her system up and running again, and her audience were content to rely on her expertise -- they didn't make a nuisance of themselves by demanding endless experiments with different fonts. The promise to pay the bearer was accomplished in an Old English font and looked authoritative. It took her about thirty minutes to create a master design, with colour changes for the different denominations, that they were happy with.
`If you could make the serial number panel just a little larger please,' Diana requested. `We'll be hand stamping them with a numbering machine.'
Cathy obliged and clicked the mouse to flow the design for the 5 Euro denomination vouchers into a ready-made boilerplate that duplicated the voucher 150 times. A quick tidy up of margins, and a test print onto ordinary paper. The visitors pronounced themselves happy with the sixth trial sheet that rolled out of big laser printer and dropped into its collection bin. Vernon Kelly loaded the first half ream of the textured paper into the feed hopper while Diana tore up the test sheets and put them in a large envelope. With everything ready, the print run began.
`This really is an excellent printer, Miss Price,' said Vernon Kelly a few minutes later. He had removed a sheet from the collection bin and was examining the rows and columns of coloured vouchers.
`It ought to be. It cost enough.'
`Is there another like it in Pentworth? One that can manage this sort of resolution and colouring?'
Cathy shook her head. `This is the only o
ne, Mr Kelly. Some colour photocopiers might do a good job but no one will be able to match that paper.'
Diana produced a numbering machine and stamped consecutive serial numbers on the first sheet. `Good -- it takes stamping ink very well. Perhaps you'd make out the bill please, Miss Price. Put down all the paper please -- we'll be taking it all with us, of course.'
Cathy wrote out an itemised bill while Diana used the paper trimmer to slice the first sheet into individual vouchers. She checked Cathy's figures, counted out the total in the freshly-printed vouchers and handed them over. `Thank you, Miss Price. We may need you again if the crisis continues, but let us hope not.'
The visitors left two hours later, taking their electricity and paper with them. Cathy watched their van moving off and wished she'd thought of asking if she could drive it to the end of the road. God -- how she missed the feel of cold vinyl beneath her thighs and a steering wheel in her hands. She stood at the window for some moments, staring down at beloved E-type, wondering if she would ever be allowed to drive it again. But it was no use dwelling on it; at least it was good to be making money again.
Chapter 51.
ANNE TAYLOR TIGHTENED the last jubilee clip that secured the input hose to the ancient central heating radiator. It had taken her, with Vikki's and Sarah's help, an hour to drag the huge piece of ironmongery out of the garage, stand it in the middle of the lawn where it received full sun, and flush it clean. She stood back and glanced across the garden at the two girls by the kitchen door. Getting Sarah to stay with them had been a good move: it had shaken Vikki out of her lethargy, and Anne had learned to appreciate Sarah's good qualities, although her earthy sense of humour could be a little trying. But the little trollop was disarmingly honest, and Anne had come to understand why Vikki valued her friendship.
`Okay -- ready!' Anne called out.
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