‘He won’t need any enticing,’ Beatrice muttered.
Virginia looked at her and then at Amy. They both lowered their heads.
‘The bastard, I knew it. I’ll cut his bloody balls off.’
She stormed off down the Turner Gallery. Reality, self-preservation and self-interest set in before she reached the end of the thirty yard long room. She turned and walked back past her daughters without speaking to them, and through into the King’s Room.
It was the most splendid bedroom in the house. Apart from the huge four-poster bed with its sumptuous hangings of gold and silver fabric, the room boasted many silver artefacts, including a huge silver mirror. It had once hosted Henry the Eighth. Now it hosted Lord Jasper and Lady Virginia of Haver.
Virginia took off her clothes and stood in front of the mirror. She might be forty-four, but she still had a great figure. Her long, rich red hair hung about her shoulders. She went to the ornately carved solid silver table where she kept her make-up and touched up her face. Amy was right. She had to protect the family’s position.
30
Alarm spread across the faces of Harry and Ruben as they led Steven and Lee into the Punishment Room.
‘The levels are down,’ Harry shouted.
He and Ruben raced across the room, jumped on the cycles and began to pedal furiously. Steven jumped onto the third cycle and followed suit. The needles on the wall-mounted dials began to rise. As he pedalled, Steven studied the instruments. They displayed the ampere-hours remaining in the battery banks, the power being consumed by the community and how much each individual treadmill was inputting to the system. Other dials showed the equivalent distance each cycle had pedalled. Only once the ampere-hour needle had moved out of the red zone did the two boys ease off a little. Steven was as out of breath as they were.
‘Can I have a ride?’ Lee asked. Harry was only too pleased to oblige. He jumped off his cycle, lowered the saddle and helped Lee on.
‘This is fun,’ the little boy said as he started pedalling.
Steven sucked more air into his lungs. ‘So tell me Harry, how does the system work?’
Harry explained the operation of the power plant which his grandfather had designed and built during the period Diana had been the leader at Haver.
‘Apart from a half-hour break at each meal, the cycles operate non-stop from six in the morning till eleven every night,’ Harry concluded.
‘Sometimes,’ Ruben added, ‘if the ampere-hours are low, you only get a few minutes to eat your meal. And the levels are always down on laundry days because of the washing machines.’
‘How long have you volunteered us for?’ Harry asked thoughtfully.
Steven did not answer.
‘How long?’
‘I’m afraid … it’s permanent.’
‘What!’ Even Lee, who no longer considered cycling fun, joined the chorus.
‘I’m sorry. But it’s for your own good.’
‘How can it be for our own good?’ Harry challenged.
‘You’ll understand one day.’
‘Being stuck in here every day will be like being in prison,’ Ruben complained. ‘The only good thing about it is we’ll be out of Damian’s way.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘He just gives us the creeps,’ Harry explained, ‘but Ruben’s right, being in here every day’s going to be like being in prison.’
‘It won’t be like prison,’ Steven said firmly. ‘Prison’s a state of mind. We’re not going to allow ourselves to be prisoners. We’re going to be the Four Musketeers and we’re going to have a great adventure.’
Harry and Ruben looked at him as if he was mad. Lee believed him. The man he now called Dad always delivered on his promises.
‘First thing,’ Steven said, ‘is to set up a routine whereby we share the load and don’t get too tired. Then, as soon as I can, I’ll have a word with your Granddad — see if there’s not some way we can’t improve the efficiency of the system.’
He spent the rest of the evening telling them about Archangel’s journey to England. Despite the gruelling work, there was much laughter. He took the opportunity afforded by his only break from cycling to inspect the racks of batteries and inverters that filled much of the room.
He had difficulty squeezing through the narrow passageways between the racks. So much equipment had been crammed in that he couldn’t see the boys cycling from the back of the room.
‘I hope you’re not sleeping back there, Uncle Steven,’ Harry quipped.
‘There’s hardly room enough to lie down, let alone sleep,’ Steven muttered as he reappeared.
They finished work at eleven o’clock. Steven, feeling guilty for having committed the boys to the treadmills indefinitely, had done more than his fair share of cycling. Every muscle in his body ached, particularly his legs.
The Grey family were waiting for the treadmill party when they arrived at their quarters. Cheryl and Bridget took the children and themselves off to bed.
Despite Paul’s weariness, he was aware Steven and Penny were anxious to discover what had happened at Haver in their absence. He slumped down in an old leather armchair and beckoned them to take the sofa opposite him.
‘So, given that Damian is still strutting round, Jasper didn’t swing the axe,’ Steven said, picking up from the point in the story his uncle had reached the night before.
‘No, worse luck,’ Paul muttered.
They listened intently as he explained how Diana had spared the brothers’ lives because she needed their sperm to increase Haver’s population.
‘I’m surprised any of the women agreed to sleep with those monsters,’ Penny said.
Paul chuckled. ‘The brothers didn’t get to sleep with them. Diana milked their sperm and artificially inseminated the women.’
‘Heavens!’
‘In some ways,’ Paul sighed, ‘Diana was as tyrannical as Nigel had been, and as despotic as Jasper is now. But on balance she did a good job.’
He explained how Diana had ordered him to design and to build the power plant and how, once the project had been completed, she had put the Chatfield brothers to work on it. She had treated them even more harshly than Steven, Harry, Ruben and Lee were being treated now.
Under Diana’s regime the power plant had been operated twenty-four hours a day, each brother working a sixteen-hour shift. While two brothers pedalled, the third slept locked in his cell, his leg fastened to a ball and chain.
‘The increase in electricity made a big difference to our lives,’ Paul enthused. ‘It still does in a way, though the plant’s not as efficient as it was under Diana’s rule. It needs regular maintenance. I just can’t get the fact through to Jasper.’
‘So how did the brothers seize control back from Diana?’ Penny asked.
Paul sighed again. ‘That’s a mystery. About ten months after Diana took over, Susan went to the Punishment Room at six o’clock in the morning to collect Greg at the end of his shift and take him back to his cell. She found the Punishment Room unlocked. Damian and Greg were gone. We checked Jasper’s cell and found he had disappeared too.’
‘They’d escaped?’
‘Yes, and they’d taken Virginia and her daughter Hazel with them.’
‘Not Amy and Beatrice?’
‘No. Probably because the girls were pregnant.’
‘Pregnant! How old were they then?’
‘Fourteen.’
‘Fourteen!’ Penny shrieked.
Paul yawned and rubbed his eyes. ‘Diana had them artificially inseminated too. She said we needed to increase the population as quickly as we could.’
‘So given all Diana’s precautions, how exactly did the Chatfield brothers manage to escape?’ Steven pressed.
‘Jasper learned a trick from you. He made keys. Heaven knows how he did it. Virginia swears blind she didn’t help him.’
‘Why did the Chatfield boys escape rather than simply seize power back straight away?’
> ‘They didn’t have any firearms. Diana had locked them all away. They simply legged it out of the park. Diana was terrified. We all were. She turned Haver into a fort — armed us and drilled us.
‘But there was no sign of the Chatfields for months. We began to wonder whether they had gone somewhere else in the country. Then, just as we had all relaxed, we noticed cattle were missing. A few weeks later our crops were poisoned and we had to move the gardens inside the walls.
‘Then things got really scary. The brothers had obviously found a cache of weapons and ammunition somewhere. They started taking pot shots at us.’ Paul yawned for the umpteenth time. ‘Look I’m sorry. I can hardly keep my eyes open. I’ll have to tell you the rest of the story tomorrow night.’
‘We understand,’ Penny said. ‘We’re all tired.’
Steven sighed. ‘I guess there’s no rush. Looks like we’re going to be at Haver for a while yet.’
‘You are,’ Paul confirmed. ‘There’s no escape from this place now.’
The despair in his voice depressed them both.
31
At the conclusion of breakfast the following morning, Jasper announced that Cheryl was to report to the ballroom at ten o’clock. She arrived carrying both babies. She found Jasper and Virginia waiting for her, lounging on a sofa. No seat had been provided for her and she was forced to stand before them, a baby cradled in each arm.
‘Give me my son,’ Jasper commanded.
She handed over Nigel. Jasper looked down at the baby and smiled. For a split second Cheryl forgot what a tyrant he was. ‘Would you like to hold your daughter too?’ she heard herself saying.
‘No,’ he grunted. The illusion was shattered.
‘We’ve decided,’ he said, patting Virginia affectionately on the thigh, ‘that Prince Nigel will be brought up with the other royal children.’
It was the first time the term ‘royal children’ had been used at Haver. The Chatfields had always behaved as if they were royalty, but they had never referred to themselves as such. Even Jasper’s father, who had managed a rapid transition from commoner to Lord Nigel of Haver, had not had the affront to call himself royal. Prince Nigel, it appeared, had transcended the great divide. For a split second Cheryl wondered if that made her a queen or a princess. That thought was quickly shattered too.
‘Prince Nigel will therefore come and live with Virginia and me,’ Jasper continued.
‘But he’s my baby,’ Cheryl cried. She had quickly bonded with him and considered him her own.
‘You will be his nanny — his wet nurse,’ Jasper announced. The look on Virginia’s face indicated Jasper’s decision was news to her. He had apparently made the pronouncement in response to Cheryl’s distress.
Virginia recovered quickly. ‘She can be nanny to all the royal children.’
‘A good idea,’ Jasper agreed, patting her thigh again. He turned his attention back to Cheryl. ‘You can tell Rebecca you’re replacing her as nanny.’
‘Can I bring Al …?’ Cheryl caught herself just in time. She knew she had better not let Jasper know she had named his daughter Allison. ‘Shall I bring your daughter Alexandra to the nursery too?’
‘I think you’ll have enough children to look after,’ Virginia interrupted. ‘Your sister Bridget can look after Alexandra.’
‘Alexandra needs me, she needs to be fed.’
Virginia turned to Jasper. ‘Vanessa Morgan’s still feeding her baby, she can wet nurse this … this Alexandra.’
A look of horror spread across Cheryl’s face and she opened her mouth to protest.
‘Quite right,’ Jasper said. ‘There are enough girls in the royal family already. I don’t want Prince Nigel here being swamped by females. He needs the company of brothers, not sisters.’
‘That’s right,’ Virginia agreed. This time it was her squeezing high up on Jasper’s thigh.
‘Shall I take Prince Nigel now?’ Cheryl asked, resting Allison on her shoulder and stepping forward.
‘No, go and see Rebecca. Ask her to show you the nursery and explain the routine. I’m going to show my son the staterooms.’
‘Yes,’ Virginia said, ‘let’s show our son round his new home. Away with you,’ she said dismissively to Cheryl. ‘We’ll let you know when Prince Nigel needs his wet nurse.’
As Virginia led Jasper quickly away, Cheryl turned and walked sad-faced back to the Grey quarters.
Unlike Rebecca, she would take no pleasure in the post of nanny — even though the position carried a few perks. She would rather be looking after her own children, Ruben, Harry, Mary-Claire and baby Allison. They might not be princes and princesses, but they were her children and she loved them.
She also loved Prince Nigel.
Steven, Lee, Harry and Ruben had started work in the Punishment Room at six o’clock. They had taken only twenty minutes for breakfast as they had found the ampere-hour reading very low when they arrived after their night’s sleep.
They pedalled furiously for the rest of the morning, with one of them resting every few minutes. Somehow they managed to get the levels up by noon and were able to enjoy a full thirty-minute break with the Grey family when lunch was served in the Great Hall.
Cheryl was no longer sitting with the rest of her family. She had been promoted and was looking after the small children at the other end of the refectory table, directly in front of the dais. Prince Nigel was sleeping in his bassinet and Cheryl had her hands full attending to Virginia’s precocious six-year-old daughter Hazel, and Amy and Beatrice’s daughters Emily and Janet, both a year old. She was forever looking longingly down the table towards her own children, including baby Allison, who was being looked after by Bridget. It was a bizarre and unhappy situation.
All too soon the lunch break was over and Steven led his crew back to the Punishment Room. The needle had dropped to just above the red zone and the race was back on. He could tell the boys were finding the work hard going. ‘We’re going to cycle around the world,’ he announced.
‘What?’
‘We’re going to cycle around the world.’
‘Don’t be daft,’ Harry said. ‘Thanks to you, we’re stuck in this prison.’
‘We’re the Four Musketeers, remember? We’re going to imagine that as we pedal these machines we’re cycling round the world. I’ve been to a lot of different countries and I’m going to tell you all about them as we go. We’ve all read books, we’ve all seen films. You’ll be surprised what’s locked away in our minds. And what we don’t know, we’ll make up. We’re going to talk about the places and imagine the people we meet along the way. And as we cycle, I’m going to educate you. I’m going to teach you everything I know.’
‘Well, that’ll take you about an hour,’ Harry laughed. ‘What are we going to do after that?’
‘You’re going to tell us everything you know,’ Steven retorted.
‘As long as it’s not everything he thinks he knows,’ Ruben quipped, rolling his eyes. ‘Otherwise we’ll be here for years.’
Lee was enthusiastic. ‘Which country are we going to first?’
‘First we’ll cycle round Britain and then we’ll head off around the Continent.’
‘I went to France before the pandemic,’ Ruben bragged.
‘You see?’ Steven said, seizing on the revelation. ‘Ruben can tell us all about France when we get there. Then I’ll tell you about Italy and Austria before we make our way through Turkey, then Asia and down to Australia and New Zealand.’
‘I can tell Harry and Ruben all about Australia and New Zealand,’ Lee boasted.
‘Exactly, and after we’ve done Australia and New Zealand we’ll cycle back to England by a different route, visiting the Pacific Islands and America on the way.’
‘I can tell them all about America, and Mexico too,’ Lee said excitedly.
Steven knew he had them. ‘First we’ll cycle round Haver Park, and then around Sevenoaks and the surrounding villages. You can lead off, Ruben. Describe
the start of our journey for us.’
‘Get in behind,’ Ruben bellowed. Steven smiled as he noticed the needles of all three cycles flicker and then climb. ‘We’re going to do a lap of Flag Court first,’ he continued, ‘and say goodbye to everyone. Look, there’s Uncle Duncan chopping turnips again …’
Harry and Ruben started laughing. Ruben told the story that Steven had already heard from Paul, but with a great deal more relish and detail.
By dinnertime, the cyclists had still not left the courtyards of Haver House. They had spent more than two hours imagining riding their bikes around the courtyards, being chased by Damian as they said goodbye to their families, wearing ruts in Jasper’s bowling green and being pursued by the overweight Greg after Harry had kicked the jack just before his perfectly weighted bowl was coming to rest against it.
There was so much laughter and whooping that Steven had to caution the boys to keep the noise down.
Shortly after returning from dinner, Steven was peering through the window, listening to Harry leading his fellow cyclists along the gravel tracks of Haver Park, when he saw the door leading to the Great Hall open, and Damian begin to saunter across Flag Court towards the Punishment Room.
‘Heads down boys, Damian’s coming. Quit the commentary for a few minutes, Harry.’
When Damian arrived, he found Steven had locked the door from the inside. He peered in through the hatch
‘Open the door!’ Damian ordered.
‘Sorry Sir Damian — can’t do that,’ Steven replied.
‘I said, open this door.’
‘I’m sorry, Sir Damian. His Lordship’s orders, I’m afraid.’
‘I need young Lee there, to help me in the stables.’
Harry glanced at Ruben.
‘I’m sorry, Sir Damian,’ Steven said yet again. ‘His Lordship was very precise. The door is to be kept locked and the boys and I are not to leave the Punishment Room under any circumstances, except for meals.’ Damian was looking at Steven suspiciously. ‘Of course, if you would like to make your request to His Lordship personally I am sure he will reconsider.’ He tried hard to suppress any sarcasm in his voice. ‘Or shall I tell him you asked, if he calls by?’
Blood Roots: Are the roots strong enough to save the pandemic survivors? Page 20
