He handed out a bag of sweets to the children that he had bought out of his dwindling savings. He passed an adult some apples, oranges and bread to share around. Robert didn’t have to do this as he knew the adults would go and take what food they could, but it was his way of trying to help the people of his city; plus there were some familiar faces within these people. Robert smiled as a little girl of about eight came up and gave him a hug; he knew this girl. Rob looked down at her dirty face, she smiled and said, “Hey up, Rob, thanks for the sweets and everything.”
Robert knelt down, facing her and, clasping her small, dirty hands in his, he smiled as he spoke, “Hello, Annabelle, that’s all right, sweetheart, and don’t worry, everything will be fine.” They knuckle touched and Robert took a selfie of them both as Annabelle had always been obsessed with taking photos before she came to be here. She then went off to play hide and seek with the other children, while the teenagers just sat there, sullenly playing on their phones. Robert smirked at this and thought, at least Prince’s reign hasn’t changed some things.
He stood up and bid farewell to the homeless before taking his Samsung Galaxy phone out of his pocket and checking the time: 12.40 p.m. He needed to nip to his flat to get a little more money. He got to the Castle Marina retail park which had retail giants such as PC World and Mothercare among others and they seemed to still be trading. Across from the retail park was the Castle Boulevard canal tow path bridge; it was about twenty metres to the other side and its sides were flanked by four foot high barriers. It was made of wood and had a curved design like a rainbow. Robert’s flat was on the other side and he could quickly nip across to his flat before going back into town to meet his mates Adam Dale and Bill Scarlett.
Halfway across the bridge stood a huge black man, looking over the edge. He was about six foot four and was as wide as a door with a shaved head and a scruffy appearance; his clothes were torn and dirty. As Rob neared him the man turned to face him. He stood in the middle of the bridge, legs astride and hands on hips. Rob went to push past him but the man pushed him back. Rob, confused, said, “What’s that about, pal? Do I know you?”
The man took a deep breath as he stared at Robert and then said, “I’m hungry so hand over your money and there will be no need for you to get hurt.”
Robert looked at the huge, desperate man. “Well, pal, I’m afraid I only have a little money myself and I need it in these desperate times. What little food I had I’ve just given to some homeless children.” Robert took a deep breath and went to get past the man, who shook his head before landing a right fist full on Robert’s face, knocking him on his back; he landed a good five feet away.
A dazed Robert got to his feet just as the man swung again. Robert ducked then let go a left right combination into his ribs; the huge man staggered back. As Robert tried to squeeze past him the man picked him up and threw him back to the beginning of the bridge where Robert landed on some rubble on the ground. He dusted himself down, took a deep breath and charged towards the huge man. They met in the middle of the bridge, exchanging blows with their fists. The huge man swung down his right fist, Robert blocked him then Kung Fu kicked him, forcing him to hit the side of the bridge. He bounced back and grabbed Robert, taking them both over the bridge’s barriers and into the river.
They were both submerged in the dirty river. Robert puffed out his cheeks; the water was freezing and came up to his shoulders. The big man forced a little grin at this as the water only came above his waist. It was so muddy that it was quite a bind as they made their way to the slippery brick built bank on the retail park side of the bridge. They were both sporting bleeding noses; the big man had a cut lip too while Robert had a bruise on his right cheek. They were both breathing hard as they raised their clenched fists to carry on the fight. That’s when Robert caught sight of the guy’s pendant chain that hung around his neck. His opponent seemed to have noticed the same thing dangling from Robert’s neck. They both lowered their fists.
“You were in the Marines?” Robert asked, fighting for breath. The huge man nodded.
“You too?” Robert nodded. They both sat on the river bank wall, dripping wet, and started to laugh.
Rob put out his hand. “Robert Hood.”
“Donald Little; nice to meet ya, Bob.”
“Likewise, Don. If you wanna eat follow me.” They walked off, laughing.
*
Not far away, in St Mary’s church, the local vicar Frank Tuck had finished his midweek service. The church was packed with all ages and races and more and more people were turning up each week. People had found themselves turning to the church for comfort and hope in England’s current desperation. Tuck got the feeling that people felt safe here with him. His parting message to them was always the same: to work together as a community and keep strong; God would help them.
Tuck was furious that Prince believed that people such as those that visited his church were rejects just because some were ill and poorer than the ones he wanted to keep in his superior England, despite the fact that they were actually good people.
His eyes filled with grief and anger as he bid farewell to the scared looking people. He, as well as others, just couldn’t understand how and why this atrocity was happening in the twenty-first century. He smiled at a couple of young teenagers who were leaving; during the service he had had to tell them both to turn off their mobile phones.
With everyone gone Tuck bolted the main front doors then put on his jacket and scarf to keep his five foot five, chubby frame warm. He picked up some parcels of food to take to the ever-growing homeless population of Nottingham; the churches across England believed it was their duty to give hope and aid. He went out a small back door of the church, checking that he wasn’t being followed, and scurried past the boarded up shell of McDonalds, making his way down to the river.
*
Tucked up safely in his mansion Ian Sheriff, the MP for Nottingham, had just come off the phone to Prince; they had been discussing the imminent takeover of Nottingham. Ian Sheriff had recently turned fifty. He was six foot in height with huge, stocky shoulders, short, greying brown hair and a thick moustache. He took a drink of whiskey; he loved the finer things in life. He ate and drank expensive food and drink and his house was fitted out with the most expensive and beautiful furniture and drapery money could buy. It housed an array of modern features, modern art and sculptures alongside all the top gadgets such as a home cinema and games room, which was full of arcade shoot ’em up games. The place had a good range of original features like fireplaces, sash windows and wooden beams across the ceilings.
Sheriff hadn’t always had these luxuries and he only had them now because of Prince. He used to live in the rough area of the Meadows in Nottingham in his younger life and had had to work all hours as a miner. He and his ex-wife had never had a family until they took in Marion, Sheriff’s niece. Sheriff had always been an honest, hardworking man; his belief had been that you had to work hard for your loaf of bread and he had been happy with his life. After a spine tingling speech over pay cuts that he once made at work in front of the bosses and unions he was persuaded to go into politics, which he did and he quickly climbed the ladder. When he first started he would never have agreed with the policies of someone such as Prince as he had been a good man, fighting for all things good.
The turning point had come when his wife had left him for a man Sheriff thought to be a money grabber and a lowlife; someone he considered to be below him. It made him change what he wanted to achieve through his politics; he too now wanted the dredges of society sorting out and had found his policies starting to align with Prince’s mission. Although he would never admit it, Sheriff was also frightened of what the Prime Minister was capable of, but, as he always said, ‘it’s better to run with the devil than to go against him’.
His kind demeanour had become harder and he found that he no longer trusted anyone. His work ethic had changed too and his new belief was that hard work didn’t bring y
ou anything but heartache.
“Marion,” yelled Sheriff. Upstairs, in her room, was Marion Fitzwalter, Sheriff’s niece. Sheriff had taken her in after the tragic death of her parents who were killed in a car crash. Sheriff, who was Marion’s mum’s brother, had taken her in along with his wife when Marion was only ten years old. Sheriff had wanted to protect Marion from further harm and heartache and he thought he was doing it the right way by joining Prince and agreeing with him on everything. He thought that he and Marion could live well and unharmed under Prince’s reign. Sheriff still believed Marion loved him and thought their relationship was as good now as it has always been; Sheriff was like a father to her and they doted on each other. He used to take her everywhere, holidays, day trips, help her with her education and take her to karate classes. The truth was, Marion still did love him but more out of duty and pity.
*
Upstairs in her room, lying on her bed, Marion wiped her puffy, red eyes. She had just read a news report on her iPad about homeless people in London being attacked by the Black Death. She could not believe what was happening in her beloved country. She felt constantly miserable lately; it was like she was a prisoner and her uncle’s excuses for keeping her locked up here were wearing thin.
At first, Marion had noticed that her uncle was getting a little possessive over her but she knew that he had never gotten over the pain of his wife leaving and guessed that he just wanted to keep his loved ones close. So, at first, she went along with his demands of spending more and more time at the house with him and informing him where she was going and who she was going out with. He had changed from a loving, caring uncle to a possessive father like figure. The demands had then gradually become more and things got worse. He kept asking her not to go back to London, then demanding it and now she was holed up in one room. His latest thing was even trying to stop her from having any contact with her friends through social media. He tried to cancel her phone contract and after that failed he had tried to disconnect her WiFi, but Marion was more tech savvy than him and had gotten it connected again with ease.
Marion and her uncle’s love for each other had long gone; Sheriff had become bitter and twisted when his wife had left him. He had become disillusioned with politics and the simple things in life that he used to enjoy, like travelling, became a burden.
Marion was twenty-seven, had studied medicine at university and had travelled all over the world as an aid worker. She was five foot five with a very athletic build, shoulder length brunette hair and blue eyes. She considered herself to be a very loving and kind person and she was a great animal lover.
She had been living on her own, in London, but she had come to visit her uncle a few months back, and now, because of his paranoid state, he wouldn’t let her leave in case something happened to her in these dangerous times.
At the sound of her uncle’s voice resounding up the stairs, Marion started guiltily, quickly stuffing her iPad in her underwear drawer out of sight.
“Dinner is ready,” shouted his voice. Marion breathed a sigh of relief, glad that she wasn’t in trouble again for something.
She went downstairs to where her uncle was sat at the dinner table. The table was full of food. There was lobster, various meats, as many vegetables as you could name, potatoes, various puddings and champagne and wine of varying vintages.
Marion was placed at the table by one of the assistants and she shook her head as Sheriff ripped apart his lobster. “What is the matter, my dear?”
Marion looked disgusted at her uncle, stuffing his face. “Well, let me see…the city is starving to death yet we’re sat here with too much food.”
“That is how it goes; I have told you before, it is about the strong and the weak, my dear.”
Marion kept sneaking bread and meat under the table when her uncle ate, looked away or checked a text on his phone. “What? In this day and age? It’s the twenty-first century, damn it. You are supposed to be MP for Nottingham. It’s your duty to help your people, yet you endorse this madness of John Prince, why?”
“Believe me; it is better to serve the devil than to cross his path.”
Marion stood up, banging her fists down on the table. “But we should be out there, helping our people. It’s madness, people having to rob to eat. I see Tesco’s in Beeston was ripped apart last night; it took less than an hour to strip it of everything.”
Sheriff flicked a bit of lobster off the sleeve of his expensive suit and scowled at Marion. “Marion, please eat.”
“But, Uncle, haven’t you listened? We should help.”
It was now Sheriff’s turn to bang on the table, causing some of his wine to jump out of his crystal glass. “Marion, you will do as you are ordered and that is the end of it. Now, please, eat.”
Marion stuffed some food in a bag and put it up her top, not realizing her uncle had seen her do this. “I’m not that hungry; I’m going for a walk.”
Sheriff wiped his mouth on his napkin and stood up. At that moment four soldiers came in, Marion slowly backed towards the door. “I am afraid, my dear, you are to stay in this house; it is not safe out there.”
“Th-that is not fair, Uncle. Why do you keep me prisoner?”
“Prisoner? No. Like I say, it’s for your safety.” With that Sheriff nodded to one of the soldiers, who grabbed the struggling Marion while another took the bag from her. Marion shook her head at the soldiers, gave her uncle a stare, then resignedly sat back down at the table and carried on eating. She was angry at being stopped by her uncle but didn’t show it as she wanted him to believe that she was willingly going along with his demands. But in truth she was hatching a plan of how to escape and where to go without being caught. She rubbed her arm where the soldier had grabbed her and gave him a nasty glare, wishing she could fight back and hurt him too. The soldier just looked straight through her, like he was trained to do.
*
At the Dragon public house there were only a couple of people in. The landlord, Graham Mutch, poured a couple of pints, his pub being one of a handful still trading. Business owners that could pay Prince were getting the help they needed to keep running, but those that couldn’t pay were being stripped of their livelihood. The pub also now housed a secret meeting place in the cellar which ran so deep underground that it was like a cave; one of many that Nottingham had.
Mutch’s eyes warily flicked to the window as two soldiers patrolled by. Mutch wasn’t the tallest of men, coming in at five foot seven inches. He had a shaved head which made him look quite tough and his nose was thick and twisted from having it broken a few times in his younger days. He had a great sense of humour and used to be a policeman before he had had enough of how things were going within the force and became a pub landlord instead.
He was a good friend of Robert Hood’s and had known him since secondary school. He had met and become friends with Adam and Bill through Robert. He thought a lot of all three of them but he had a soft spot for Adam; he loved to hear him sing. All afternoon Mutch had kept on sticking his head out of the Dragon’s door and glancing down the street to hear Adam busking and singing the Olly Murs song Troublemaker. Mutch wiped around the bar area then looked through the window to make sure there were no prying Black Death eyes before going into the back and turning the cellar lights on. He stacked up the fridge with bottles of Budweiser and Corona while he waited for his friends to arrive for their usual evening get together.
*
Robert Hood along with his friend Bill Scarlett walked through the city centre. Bill was six foot in height with a very muscular build. Bill loved to run and he could do ten miles without breaking a sweat. He had brown hair shaved around the sides but cut short on top, his eyes were a piercing light blue and he was clean shaven. He was an honest and kind man with a good sense of humour.
Robert and he walked through Nottingham square and there, stood outside Primark, was their mate Adam Dale with his battered, old, Tanglewood guitar busking the Ed Sheeran A Team song to the busy
Nottingham crowds. The town hall still lit up the square despite its littered appearance. The Black Death tried to keep the ever growing numbers of beggars away from the well-off, who were just going around doing their shopping like nothing had changed; ignoring the people that could hardly afford food never mind clothes, gadgets and whatever else these rich people were buying. Robert and Bill were clapping and whistling sarcastically at Adam, who had broken into an acoustic version of Happy by Pharrell Williams; Bill threw a penny in his case.
“Wow, you’re being generous, Bill,” joked Adam as he finished up, strapping his guitar on his back. Adam was twenty-nine, six foot in height with brown hair tied back in a ponytail. He used to be in the Territorial Army as well as being a kickboxing instructor. He loved to play his guitar and Robert always considered him to be as honest as the day was long. Adam had known both Robert and Bill for years, being from the same village — Beeston.
They all made their way to the Dragon pub together with Robert shaking his head at the boarded up buildings and people begging while the rich and privileged shopped and the Black Death, which were becoming more and more each day, patrolled the city.
They entered the pub and exchanged pleasantries with Graham Mutch and with the other two men that were sat at the bar. After Mutch locked the door, dimmed the lights and put up the closed sign they made their way down a doorway that had bookcase wallpaper covering it and boxes of crisps stacked in front to keep it hidden from the Black Death. It led to the underground cellar.
“I can’t believe this is happening, Rob; what you reckon is gonna happen?” asked Bill as they sat down at a large, oak table. Mutch passed round a bottle of beer each.
“You saw it the other day, Bill. Prince has taken over London and it’ll not be long before Nottingham is the same. There are more soldiers every day, signs all over about protection and tax money. The homeless become more every day while the cowardly rich turn a blind eye. People are pulling each other apart to survive; two poor beggars were shot yesterday for stealing a couple of Pot Noodles and some microwave meals. We are all down to the bare bones, food and money wise, and Prince will want his tax or he’ll want us in his armies; joining in with his power mad ideas.” Robert stood up and started pacing around, deep in thought over England’s current fate.
Champagne & Lemonade Page 17
