Fergus did as he was told. A few seconds later there was a dull thud as Mark threw the other boot a few feet into the clearing. ‘With any luck they’ll assume he’s crawled into the bracken,’ Mark explained. ‘Knowing the Chatfield brothers, they’ll soon give up looking for him.’
‘So what now?’
‘We’ll piggy-back him to Seal. Lift him up.’
Mark was alarmed how light his brother seemed. But as the journey progressed he was glad he weighed so little.
It was gone ten o’clock by the time they arrived, exhausted, at Johnstone Court. Anne, Jane, Zach, Nicole and Jessica heard them approaching and rushed through the rain to greet them.
Once again Jane’s organisational skills had come to the fore. Hot water and soup bubbled away on the fire lit outside the main door of the retirement complex.
‘We were really worried,’ Jane said as she led them into a ground-floor apartment lit by a tiny taper.
‘Rick wanted to mount a rescue mission,’ Zach added. ‘Roger told him he couldn’t.’
Roger walked in as Fergus and Mark were laying Paul on the bed.
‘Let me have a look at him,’ he said. ‘You’d better get into dry clothes or I’ll be treating you too.’ Mark hesitated. ‘Jane and I can look after him in the meantime,’ Roger added.
‘We haven’t been able to get any sense out of him. He sounds as if he’s drugged or drunk,’ Fergus said.
When Mark and Fergus returned they found Paul propped up on pillows, being spoon-fed hot soup by Jane. Paul saw them and acknowledged them with his eyes. He tried to speak but seemed unable to release the words.
‘He’s had a stroke,’ Roger explained. ‘A few days ago, I suspect. If he’s been out in the open since then it’s a miracle he’s survived.’
Mark glanced at Roger. ‘But he’ll be all right now?’
Even in the dim light of the small taper Mark could see the concern on the doctor’s face. ‘I hope so. He must be a tough old guy.’
Mark leant over his brother. ‘Paul, can you hear me?’ The eyes told him his brother could. ‘Is Steven all right? Are Allison and the others all right?’
Paul tried to speak. The words were incoherent, but there was sadness in his eyes.
‘You’ll have to wait till he’s stronger,’ Roger said gently.
‘I see you’ve rescued one of your clan, then. When are we going in for the rest?’ Rick stood at the door, Julie on his arm.
Mark didn’t answer him. He turned to Fergus. ‘Let’s get some sleep. We’ll assess the situation in the morning.’
Mark found it hard to sleep despite being exhausted. There were so many unanswered questions.
Anne slipped into the bed beside him. It would be the first time they had slept a night together, but it added another question to his list. How was he going to deal with the Allison and Anne situation? All he knew at that moment was that he wanted Anne beside him. She snuggled in behind him, her arm looped over his waist and her fingers on his bare chest. He guessed she wanted to make love but he didn’t turn over. He just held her hand and squeezed it.
Next day he slipped out from under Anne’s arm, kissed her lightly on the forehead and hurried away to Paul’s bedside. He found Jane and Roger slumped on the sofa at the foot of Paul’s bed. They’d fallen asleep, Jane’s head resting on Roger’s shoulder. He suddenly wished Jane had latched onto Roger rather than Rick.
Paul was asleep too, his breathing laboured, his body jerking as if some great internal fight was taking place. The previous night Jane had bathed her uncle, shaved him and combed his hair. In the growing daylight he looked better than he had by the light of the taper, but not much. Mark waited impatiently for fifteen minutes, willing him to wake up. He needed answers.
Finally he could wait no longer. ‘Paul, Paul. Can you hear me?’ he whispered. He shook his brother gently. Slowly, it seemed almost painfully, Paul came to and looked up. A thin smile emerged from between crooked lips. Saliva dribbled from the corner of his mouth. Mark took the sheet and wiped it away. ‘Is Steven all right?’ he asked.
‘He needs rest.’ It was Roger’s voice. Both he and Jane had woken up.
‘I just need to ask him a couple of quick questions.’
‘If you were the police, I wouldn’t let you.’
Mark ignored him. ‘Paul, where’s Steven?’
His brother tried to speak. His eyes were intense and he was struggling to get the words out. There was an incoherent mumble. Mark bent over and put his ear next to his brother’s mouth. ‘Where’s Steven?’ he asked again.
Other people arrived and milled around in the doorway, talking. ‘Keep quiet,’ Mark snapped.
‘That’s enough questions,’ Roger said sharply. ‘You’re not doing him any good.’
Jane stood up, ushered everyone away and closed the door. Mark continued to hold his head beside Paul’s mouth. ‘Where’s Steven?’ he asked again, desperation in his voice.
Slurred words stuttered from Paul’s lips.
‘Say again?’ Mark said. Again Paul tried to speak.
‘Did you say the Punishment Room?’
The single word was slurred but distinct enough.
‘And where are Allison and the others?’
Tears trickled down Paul’s cheeks. He closed his eyes.
‘Where’s Allison?’ Mark asked again.
Roger touched Mark’s arm. ‘It’s too much. You’re upsetting him,’ he said quietly.
‘Yes, that’s enough, Dad,’ Jane added softly.
Mark wiped away his brother’s tears and saliva, and walked purposefully out of the room. Roger motioned to Jane to go with him.
The others had gathered in Johnstone Court’s common room. ‘Found out anything?’ Fergus asked as Mark and Jane walked in.
‘Steven’s on the treadmill in the Punishment Room,’ Mark explained. ‘I haven’t managed to find anything out about anyone else. I’m going to try and get in tonight.’
‘Could be risky,’ Fergus cautioned. ‘There were cattle further along the valley. It might be safer to wait till someone comes out to tend to them and try to talk to them.’
Mark shook his head. ‘We don’t know how other members of the community will react once they know we’ve arrived. We have no idea what hold Nigel or his sons have over them. They could easily betray us. I need to speak to Steven.’
Fergus looked down at the floor. His sister Andrea had betrayed their escape four years earlier in return for drugs supplied by Damian.
‘How long before we go in and sort this mess out?’ Rick asked. ‘We can’t survive on this crap much longer.’ He held up the mug of thin vegetable soup he had been sipping.
‘You’re lucky to have that,’ Jane spat, smarting from the criticism.
‘Give me a rifle,’ Rick said. ‘I’ll soon bag a couple of those deer we saw.’
Mark rolled his eyes. ‘That’s all we need, a rifle shot being heard back in Haver.’
‘We could do with a deer though,’ Fergus said thoughtfully.
Mark agreed. ‘I think there’ll be deer in Godden Wood. It’s far enough from the house and the carriage tracks — if we can get a couple of deer without firing a rifle.’
‘You’re wasting your time without a rifle!’ Rick scorned.
Mark, Fergus, Anne and Zach set off as soon as breakfast was finished. Rick, much to his consternation, was left behind to help forage for fruit and vegetables. The deer-hunting party collected tennis nets from the sports hall at Wildernesse School and made their way to Godden Wood, where they strung the nets at one end of a copse and managed to spook three deer into them. There was great jubilation when they returned to Seal carrying the slaughtered beasts.
‘Do you want me to come to the Punishment Room with you tonight?’ Fergus asked Mark as they sat enjoying the venison.
‘I want you to come into the park with me, but we won’t risk both of us going inside. I need you to cover me with the rifle, and to take charge if things go w
rong.’
Jane looked at her father in alarm.
‘I’m sure nothing will go wrong,’ he assured her. ‘I’ll climb in over the gates set in the south wall.’
‘Nigel’s room looks straight out onto that section of the garden,’ Fergus cautioned.
‘He won’t be awake by the time I go in.’
‘What about dogs?’ Jane asked anxiously.
‘We didn’t hear any dogs today. Steven killed them all off, remember,’ Fergus said, recalling how Steven had poisoned the dogs during their escape four years previously.
‘I’m convinced they haven’t replaced the dogs,’ Mark said. ‘If they had done, Damian would have taken them on his hunting expedition.’ He wasn’t sure whether he was trying to reassure Jane or himself.
There was a refrain of ‘take care’ as Mark and Fergus left Johnstone Court late in the afternoon. They made good time, and were in the bushes in front of the West Tower before it was dark. Paul’s boots had disappeared and the bracken had been trampled down. Whoever had looked for him appeared to have not made too much effort searching.
Mark focused his binoculars on the top of the West Tower. He could see a figure but was having difficulty determining who it was. He handed the glasses to Fergus. ‘Here, your eyes are better than mine.’
‘It’s my father!’ Fergus exclaimed excitedly after a couple of moments. ‘Looks as if he’s on sentry duty.’
‘Why’s your father mounting guard rather than one of the Chatfield boys? Don’t tell me he’s changed sides.’
‘Never,’ Fergus retorted indignantly.
As the night drew on, it grew colder. In the moonlight they could see the figure of Fergus’s father, Duncan, walking backwards and forwards, stamping his feet in an effort to keep warm.
‘If he’d joined the opposition he’d have a fire going,’ Fergus said defensively. ‘Perhaps I should try to make contact with him.’
‘No, whatever you do, don’t try that. There’s something fishy going on. I’m not saying he’s joined the Chatfields — I’m just saying it smells. Let me talk to Steven first. Anyway, I need you to cover me with the rifle.’
Before the matter could be debated further, Mark led Fergus through the bracken and bushes till they were opposite the gates set in the south wall. There were still two lights on inside the house. One was in the window which Mark knew to be the King’s Room. The curtains were open, and half an hour later a figure came to the window. From the silhouette it was clearly a woman, but by the time Mark had the binoculars focused the curtains had been drawn. The light in the room was extinguished shortly afterwards. He wondered if the woman was Allison. Had Nigel made her his wife again?
It was nearly two hundred yards across open ground to the gate. Grazing deer had kept the undergrowth down and the bracken at bay. The moon was exceptionally bright. There was a little broken cloud but it was fast moving and obscured the moon for only a few seconds at a time.
‘I’m off when the next cloud comes across,’ Mark said finally. ‘Wait here till just before dawn if necessary. I need you to cover the lawn area with the rifle in case there are any problems. If for any reason I don’t get out by daylight, make your way back to Seal and come back and wait here for me again tomorrow night. Whatever happens, don’t make contact with your father until we know what the situation is.’
A cloud swept across the moon and Mark bolted for the huge iron-railed gates.
‘Good luck,’ Fergus called softly after him.
As the moon emerged from behind the cloud Mark was already lying motionless, face down on the grass. It took him two more passing clouds to get to the safety of the wall and another to get over the locked gates.
As he paused in the shadows alongside the massive stone pillars, his heart pounded with both the exertion of climbing the twenty foot high gates and the dread of finding out what had happened to Steven and Archangel’s crew.
PART 2
25
Archangel’s voyage from New Zealand was almost over. Steven stood at the helm as the yacht entered the Thames. Thirty-eight years of age, tall, muscular, blond and good-looking, he cut a dashing figure. The fact did not go unnoticed by his partner Penny; she watched him adoringly, as she often did. Also attractive, her sharp features softened by her mass of curly blond hair, she was twelve years his junior. She was holding their son, baby David, and talking to her cousin Allison sitting uncomfortably beside her.
Allison was old to be pregnant, but the bloom of pregnancy made her look less than her forty-three years. Her sensual lips, short-cropped hair and high Chatfield cheekbones made her a real beauty.
Penny also kept a watchful eye on her other son, the blond-haired, fine-featured Lee, who on account of his small size looked younger than his seven years. He was up in the pulpit with his sixteen-year-old cousin Luke who, like her son, was short in stature and lightly built. Luke, smiling as ever, pointed out landmarks to the little boy.
Steven decided to sail up the Thames and anchor off Greenwich just below the remains of the Thames Barrier. He had considered anchoring at Gillingham in the Medway, but had no idea what the situation was at Sevenoaks. More than two years earlier he and his father, after escaping from Haver, had nearly been ambushed by the Chatfield brothers opposite where Archangel had anchored at Gillingham. He had decided not to chance anchoring there again.
With a final glance back at Archangel, the crew began the journey to Haver. Allison, who was due to have her baby any day, was finding it difficult to walk. They called a halt, and searched for more than an hour before finding a wheelchair in a derelict house. They also found a buggy for baby David. The roads were covered in weeds, and cracked and uneven in many places. Despite the wheelchair and buggy the going was slow and difficult.
Two days later they reached the town of Sevenoaks. It was late in the evening and getting dark. Despite their excitement, they knew they would have to wait until the next day to approach Haver. They stumbled into a house at the top of Sevenoaks High Street, slumped fully clothed onto the musty-smelling beds and quickly fell asleep.
At six in the morning, while Penny, Allison and the children slept on, Steven and Luke crept out of the house and made their way into Haver Park. An hour later Allison, Penny and Lee heard footsteps clattering up the stairs.
‘The Union Jack and the Cross of St George are flying above the West Tower!’ blurted an excited Steven.
‘How’s my mother?’ Allison asked.
‘We didn’t go in. As soon as we saw the flags flying we raced back to get you.’
‘Anyway, your mother won’t be up yet,’ Luke added. ‘There were no lights on in the house.’
‘I wish I could take Lee into Haver,’ Penny said.
‘You can,’ Allison said softly.
Steven looked at her, confused. ‘Is he an asymptomatic carrier of typhoid or isn’t he?’
‘He is a carrier. Some or all of the people living at Haver may fall ill if we are not careful, but the illness won’t kill them.’
Penny was confused too. ‘How do you know?’
‘I don’t believe Lee’s carrying the standard strain of typhoid. I think it’s a new disease — a disease that’s only fatal to people with dark skins, like the Aborigine women we met in Brisbane and those with Maori blood, like Zoë. Don’t ask me how such a disease works, I don’t know.’
‘How long have you suspected this?’ Steven demanded. She didn’t answer. ‘Did you know before we left New Zealand?’ Again she did not reply. ‘You should have told my father!’ Steven shouted, unable to contain his anger.
‘And do you know what he would have done? He would have sacrificed Holly for Lee, just to keep you there.’
‘You mean exposed her to the virus and let her die?’ Steven could barely contain his anger. ‘He wouldn’t have done that!’ he shouted. He knew his little orphaned part-Maori niece Holly was his father’s favourite.
‘Are you sure? Anyway, my decision not to tell him made sense. A
s long as Lee never came into contact with Holly she was safe, and the New Zealand community stood to gain the benefit of her Maori genes.’
Lee opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by Luke.
‘Come on, let’s get going. What’s the point of arguing about it now? The flags are flying. We’re here, and it’s safe to go in. It’s safe for Lee to go in too. That’s all that matters.’
They helped Allison down the stairs and into the wheelchair, put baby David in the buggy and hurried along the High Street, retracing the route Steven and Luke had taken earlier. The mist was beginning to disperse. As they passed through the pedestrian gate beside the cattle grid they could discern the outline of deer and cattle further along the valley. They dragged the wheelchair and buggy up the narrow, overgrown tarmac path that wound its way through the trees to the top of the hill.
‘See?’ Luke said, pointing at the flags fluttering in the breeze above the West Tower, his face beaming.
Steven was more subdued. He was wrestling with the facts Allison had presented, trying to come to terms with her deception.
‘There’s a man on top of the tower,’ Lee said excitedly. All eyes focused on the parapet and saw a large crow flutter down to the gardens below.
‘Funny-looking man,’ laughed Luke.
‘I did see a man,’ insisted Lee.
‘No one will be awake yet. You can help me take my grandmother a cup of tea in bed. Do you remember your Great-Great-Aunt Margaret?’ Luke said.
‘That’s my job,’ Allison said firmly, her voice resonating with happiness.
‘He can take his own grandmother a cup of tea,’ countered Penny.
Steven relaxed a little. He remembered the look on his cousin Diana’s face when Penny told her mother that she was leaving for New Zealand with Lee. He hoped Diana would forgive him now he had brought them both safely home.
They hurried across the parkland towards Haver House. The gates beneath the West Tower were open and Lawn Court was deserted. There were no lights in the windows of the buildings surrounding the courtyard, but they could see lights ahead beyond the archway of Cromwell’s Tower.
Blood Roots: Are the roots strong enough to save the pandemic survivors? Page 15
