by Vance Huxley
“So why won’t your friends in the Army let you leave?” Matthew was suspicious now.
“He left the Army to rescue me, but we all got trapped. Then Harr... Harold organised our defence, chased off the first attackers, and got us out when things got too bad.” Sharyn was apparently a lot more proud of her little brother than she ever told him to his face.
“I gave advice.” Harold looked at Matthew. “I can’t go up there because I’m a civilian now, just one with an old Army uniform in my wardrobe.”
“That’s a relief to me.” Betty smiled. “Someone who knows what to do about the yobs.” She looked at the other two. “We should go and tell everyone, and have a proper vote.”
“Yes, we have a sort of committee, but this needs everyone.” Harry senior stood up. “Thank you for the talk and the tea.” He smiled at Sharyn. “We only have tinned milk left so skimmed was a really nice change.” The other two stood up and said goodbye, then left.
“We should let all our people know, and then get some sleep.” Harold yawned because it had been a long three days and two bad nights.
“I’ll do that.” Hazel stood up. “I slept more than you because Patricia gave me a pill, and I want to be useful. Then you can sleep. I want to talk to the rest as well, please, the ones from our flats, the ones I know?” She looked at Sharyn. “I’ll sneak into Daisy’s room, I promise.”
“We’ll leave you a sleeping bag in there. Just stick to Orchard Close.”
“Oh yes, and I’ll run between houses.” Hazel headed out of the door.
“You are let off story telling tonight because both the kids are already dead to the world. So you should sleep because Daisy will be up at the crack of dawn and demanding compensation.” Sharyn gave Harold a hug. “Go on, little brother Harold. There’s a shower up there that might work and if not Rob will fix it tomorrow. Yours is the room with an open door.” Harold brought out the last three sleeping bags and took one. Then he went up and threw the sleeping bag on the three-quarter bed in his new room. The shower did work and Harry didn’t really inspect the bedroom afterwards. He just crawled into the bag and relaxed, and then was asleep.
* * *
Four days later the refugees were settling in properly. Not only in Orchard Close now because seven houses, even big ones, weren’t enough for thirty-three warm bodies. People had spread out and were filling the gaps between the original residents, taking empty houses. The couples and families found new places first, with the single women mostly remaining in numbers three and five.
Though some weren’t really couples, or not yet. A few of the single people wanted some space to get over what had happened, but everyone started to relax. Harold smiled over his morning toast and marmalade when the sound of a strimmer came in through the open window. An open window that was a bit chilly, but that and having the heating on was airing out the house very quickly.
“Settling down, Stewart?” Harold smiled at Mr Baumber as he walked past.
“Well it is a mess.” The ex-caretaker looked along the other gardens. “It doesn’t take long to knock the worst down as long as we’ve got cord.” He gestured at the strimmer. “We are only using electric ones, and then we’ve got two electric mowers to do the job right.”
“Tea’s ready, Stewart.” Harold left with a little smile because Stewart was cutting Karen’s grass first. Sharyn was considering starting a book on the date of the first gin rummy game. Gossip was alive and well in Orchard Close.
Orchard Close was a rather anomalous description already. Those who had moved to other houses still considered themselves part of the Orchard Close gang, as they tended to put it. Liz was still actually in Orchard Close with Casper and ten women in their teens or early twenties. Many were from the survivors in the minibus plus a couple from the flats and those all carried machetes or baseball bats now.
The women also brightened the day for the younger single men by exercising together in the front garden, though carefully covered up. Loose jeans rather than skirts were a trend among the younger women now, after seeing the fate of those caught by the looters. Harold opened the gate and walked up to Matthew’s house, because he wanted to investigate the surrounding ruins.
“Hello Matthew. Can you spare me a few minutes?”
“I’ve got hours these days. What about, Harold?”
“Scrounging and scavenging.” Harold smiled. “Or looting in some people ’s eyes.”
“Harry lost that fight when the loo roll started to run out. But where are we to go?” Matthew waved a hand towards the city. “The fighting over there hasn’t slowed down.”
“No, but none of it has come this way yet. Once they’ve finished with the city centre, looters and rioters will come this way.” Harold gave a little smile. “I had a look in a couple of the houses that were burned or damaged. Some only have broken windows. Even where the roofs are letting in water there’s still useable things inside.”
Matthew frowned. “Such as? Bedding will be wet, and so will loo rolls.” He smiled. “Sorry, but there was a near riot here when loo rolls started to run out.”
“Tinned food, and coffee. Tins of milk and plastic tubs of flour and cereal? Loo rolls still wrapped in their plastic?” Harold smiled back at Matthew’s sudden grin. “If there’s a fridge or freezer in a garage and the electric is still working, it might be full of food.” A thought struck Harold. “Where did all the people go?”
“A lot died when a big mob rampaged through there. The rest left, just ran or got in their cars and drove away as fast as possible. Most went off to the south, along the road at the roundabout just down there.” Matthew grimaced. “They didn’t come this way because the Army was shooting at any rioters heading towards them. The Army actually came down and buried a lot of bodies in a big pit afterwards, but the stink was bad for a while so they didn’t get them all.”
“So nobody has been in the houses since?”
“There have been people coming back but as long as they stayed over there we let them be.” Matthew shrugged. “We assumed they were residents coming to collect any possessions that had survived. They might have been looting?”
“Only one way to find out but I want a combined group. The original residents and some of my lot. Not really mine, the residents of the flats.”
“No Harold, your lot. Ask them and they’ll tell you. Well not you, but they tell me they’re part of Harold’s gang, or soldier boy’s. Even the ones who’ve moved next door to me.” Matthew grinned. “I’ll see if any of Harry’s lot want to come. Or Betty’s lot, or whatever because your lot are a definite group.”
“Matthew’s lot will do. Round them up and let me know, will you?” Harold pulled out the bit of paper. “This is the phone number for the house I’m in.”
“Your house now, Harold.” Matthew gestured at the house behind him. “I used to rent this, but it’s mine now it seems. Do we need to bring clubs or something?”
“Whatever’s handy. I’m taking Casper and Liz so they’ll bring the heavy metal.”
“Scary. Good. I’ll call as soon as possible.”
Harold stuck the target pistol under his long coat just in case, and took his stick for the same reason. Matthew had four people, and Harold brought five plus himself. Harold waved a hand around his group. “Casper, Liz, Billy, Toby, Emmy.” Emmy was one of the minibus escapees, a tall twenty year old Jamaican whose husband died in the flats. She was carrying a rucksack and a baseball bat and determined to do her part.
Matthew waved at his group. “Curtis, Seth, Bernie and Sal.” All were early to mid-twenties and just a little bit overweight and out of condition. Seth was a lot more so than the others. “They all want to join the exercises if that’s allowed.”
“Everyone is welcome. If anyone knows any judo or anything like that, they’ll be really welcome.” Liz smiled. “You haven’t got a blacksmith have you?”
“No?”
“Never mind. Everyone look out for one while we scavenge.” Every
one who knew Liz laughed and they were soon spreading the joke. That was a good icebreaker.
The group needed something to cheer them up. There were still bones in the ruins, and not all were completely clean yet. Though some of the rest did cheer people up. Definitely loo rolls, and quite a lot of tinned goods. “I’ve got seeds in here. Do we need, hang on, nasturtiums, poppies, carrots, broad beans and, oh yes, cauliflowers.” Emmy appeared at the garage door with a handful of packets. “There’s lots more.”
“Bring them. If there’s no improvement we may have to grow our own. I hope somebody has a vague idea about gardening because I don’t.” Harold hoped that supplies were re-established before that was necessary.
“Christ, surely not. That would mean no food over the winter. It’ll be next year before we can grow food.” Seth looked horrified, but so did everyone else except Curtis.
“We can sow seeds now, and some will keep cropping as long as we keep the conditions right. Some will need to go in soon for next year. We’ll only produce green stuff at this time of year, but that’s what we need, right?” Curtis patted his little pot belly. “All right, I haven’t worried about it before but healthy diet will be important, yes?”
“Yes, I suppose.” Matthew wasn’t impressed by a healthy diet but Liz perked up.
“If it’s just greens I can do that. As long as there isn’t tofu.”
Curtis grinned. “Sorry, no idea how to grow tofu or yoghurt.” His face fell. “No milk unless someone found a cow.”
“We need lots of tinned milk and even if cheese is mouldy it isn’t useless.” Harold smiled at them. “Honest, that’s not just a rough tough soldier thing.”
“Yeuk. Cut my mould off before I see it.” Toby grinned. “Then stick it on some toast.”
“Bread, damn.” Everyone looked stricken at that. “Chips, pizzas and take-away Chinese.”
“We can make bread.” Emmy shrugged. “I’m sure we can. I’ll bet what we want is here.”
“Beer, where’s the beer?”
Sal patted Seth’s belly. “Maybe that’s not really necessary.”
Seth swatted her hand away without any real malice. “Home brew, but we need an expert.”
“Yes we do, but for that we need a run into the city. In broad daylight and armed to the teeth.” Harold had everyone’s attention. “Then we offer a brewer a safe home.”
“Seriously?” Seth was a yes vote already.
“England is full of mini-breweries, so it’s up for discussion. Now let’s take the loot back, divvy up, and make lists of what is most important. We need pads and pens to make lists of what’s here, so we can come back for it.”
“We want spray paint as well to mark some of these houses.” Bernie and Casper had both had close escapes when walls came down because a fire had weakened them.
“Everyone make a list.” The group lifted their loads and made their way home.
* * *
Five days of making lists and looting houses later a hand banged on Harold’s bedroom door. Hazel’s voice came through to where Harold was working on the lists. “Harold, Harold, you’re wanted.”
“On the way, Hazel.” Harold happily abandoned the lists. He wasn’t so happy to find Matthew and Casper with grim faces.
Matthew spoke before Harold was off the bottom step. “The Army want to talk to the man in charge.”
“So why me? What about Harry, or you?”
“Harry says no and actually I’ve been doing what you tell me.” Matthew grinned.
“Suggest, not tell. Others suggest as well.”
“Then we look at you to see if you agree. Come on Harold, at least you talk the language.” Casper shrugged. “We sort of elected you when we left the flats.” He smiled. “I elected you when you recued my fairy ass.”
Matthew flinched slightly. He still wasn’t used to the casual mentions of Casper’s sexuality, or as he’d told Harold, to sexuality being treated as a joke. Gay jokes were a sackable offence for Traffic Wardens. “So will you go?”
“I suppose so. Who is up there?”
“We think about ten of them but it’s hard to be sure. The one shouting has three stripes.” Matthew looked around. “Sergeant I think?”
“Full marks. Any idea what it’s about?”
“No, he just wanted a little chat.”
“Little chat means it’s probably not totally official. He’s either going to bend my ear or ask pointed questions.” Harold straightened his shoulders. “I hope he’s in a good mood.”
“How many packets of frozen chips did Seth drag home?” Sharyn was smiling.
“Dozens? Scores? Hundreds?” Everyone laughed at Casper. Seth’s personal obsession with finding frozen chips, pies and beer was already a legend. Though he cheerfully shared them out, since according to Seth the pies and chips would still be there when he’d eaten his. Because everyone else, again according to Seth, was obsessed with healthy eating.
“So if you took a big plate of freshly fried chips up there for our brave protectors?” Sharyn was already heading for the kitchen. “I know enough about soldiers to be certain it will make them all a lot happier. Hazel, nip along the road and ask the girl club to fry some as well, please?”
“OK.” Hazel exited at speed and with a big smile because she liked visiting the girl club, the name for the two houses containing single women. Plus Casper, the house mother, allegedly.
“Matthew, can you ask Betty to go up far enough to tell the soldiers I’ll be about twenty minutes? I was asleep or something.” Harold smiled. “That’s a suggestion and request.”
Matthew was puzzled. “I can tell them that, it doesn’t need Betty.”
“Then they might shoot you. I’d ask Karen but she might shoot back.” Harold headed back up the stairs because he was wearing his battledress trousers to save his jeans and that was definitely a no-no. That was illegal even before the present stricter regulations came in. Harold took the time to shave as well, since at the moment Harold was only doing so every other day until he scored an electric razor.
“They’re in a dish because you’ll spill them from a plate.” Sharyn was waiting when Harold came down, with a big glass oven dish. The smell of freshly deep fried potato came through the tea towel laid over the top, on which was a plastic bottle of vinegar and a plastic tub of salt. “They get tomato sauce next time if they’re nice to you.”
As Harold walked down Orchard Close two front doors opened and Emmy came from one and Liz from the other, both carrying dishes with tea towels over them. “We’re coming as well.” Emmy smiled and waved her dish. “So you don’t drop them.”
“For protection as well.” Liz smiled and wiggled to show off her skirt. “Do the Army have blacksmiths?”
Harold remembered the chemist shop and Liz producing a pistol. “Protection? I really hope you haven’t brought anything silly because they will search you.”
Liz looked at Harold’s serious face and her smile disappeared. “Oh. Sorry. I get a bit nervous without something for emergencies.” She pulled an air pistol from inside her jacket, keeping her back to the bypass. “Here, Hazel. Take that back in will you and be careful.”
“Er, take this as well, will you?” Emmy put her hand behind her under her jacket and produced a knife in a sheath. She shrugged. “I was nearly caught once, remember.” Grief flitted across her features and then Emmy straightened and braced her shoulders. “Lead on, soldier boy.”
“You might do better taking Hazel, she should make them feel safe.” Liz might have been right but one look at the alarm on Hazel’s face killed that idea.
“No, but if the women, all of them, were to come outside and stand where the Army could see them it might help. Let them see who needs protection if trouble arrives.” Harold turned to the youngster. “Hazel, can you ask Sharyn, and help to spread the word please?”
“OK.” Hazel giggled. “Soldier boy.” Then she headed into the girl club carrying the weapons very carefully under her jumper.
“Cheeky.” Harold growled it after her but he was smiling, then he wiped the smile off. “No mention of soldier boy to the squaddies up there. Some of them think I ran away.” Liz muttered and grumbled about that all the way down the street and onto the main road. Though she shut up once the soldiers with rifles pointed her way were clearly visible.
“Stop there. What are the presents, and who are you three?”
“Hello sergeant. I’m Harold Miller, and I’ve been elected to come and talk to you. These ladies are Liz and Emmy and here to help carry the presents. The dishes are full of fresh chips and the salt and vinegar are here as well.” Harold put a hand over his dish. “Can I remove the cover? It’s only there to keep them piping hot.”
“One of you young ladies can do that, then bring the dish up here nice and steady. Why the chips?”
“There’s an Army widow down there. She’d have brought the chips up but she’s got a couple of youngsters who don’t like being left.” Actually both children had so far been relatively unaffected by all the trouble and were happy to be left with people they knew, but Harold was working the sympathy vote.
“All right. Stop there.” Liz stopped. “Thatcher, leave your rifle and go and check that dish. Then search the young lady without getting your face slapped.”
“Yes Sarge.” The young private came over the sandbags, looked at the chips, picked a few up, grinned, and put them in his mouth. “Need salt and vinegar Sarge.”
“Not eat them, you stupid, er, soldier. At least we’ll know they’re poisoned if you go green and puke your guts out. Now search the young lady.”
The squaddie couldn’t see Sarge’s smile and looked stricken, then nervous as he patted here and there on Liz and asked her to open her jacket. Harold reckoned he could have hidden an armoury in the bits not patted so Sarge wasn’t too paranoid. Thatcher looked a big startled after Liz leant forward a little bit and then he turned back to the sergeant.
