The second door on the right was the kitchen, and I ran inside. I could see a polythene tent. Inside it, Matron was directing Sue from her wheelchair as the nurse leaned over the kitchen table working on Dad.
“Time to go!” I shouted.
“We need two minutes to stabilise him,” Jane yelled back.
A burst of gunfire came from behind me.
“No problem,” I said, turning and opening fire at the soldiers coming towards me.
So help me, I smiled as I took their lives. Then Tariq and I walked on, looking for more.
JANE
THE THIRD AND final bullet landed with a clang as Sue dropped it into the small metal dish.
“What now?” she asked.
“His left lung’s collapsed,” I said. “He’s drowning in his own blood. We need to aspirate. Have we got a tube of any kind?”
Mrs Atkins stepped across to a metal trolley cluttered with implements. She rifled through it and then waved a piece of clear plastic tube.
“Great. Sue, you need to puncture the lung and shove that in.”
Sue took up her scalpel and got to work. I leaned forward so I could shout in John’s ear.
“John, John Keegan. I need you to concentrate, John. Focus on my voice. I need you to take a deep breath, okay? Very deep, when I say. Can you do that?”
His eyes flickered and he moaned. I took that as a yes.
“Ready,” said Sue, holding the tube, which now stuck out of his side.
“Now, John, breathe deep,” I said, willing him to obey.
He gasped, then sucked air in through his mouth. It bubbled and gargled in him, then the tube filled with blood and the lung drained its load on to the floor.
I breathed a big sigh of relief. “Good.”
There was the sudden shocking sound of gunfire from somewhere in the building. Sue and I exchanged worried glances, but she shrugged. Not our problem yet.
“What next?” Sue asked.
“Now let’s patch and seal. We need some superglue. There’s some in a tupperware box under the sink.”
The gunfire resumed, louder and closer, as Mrs Atkins retrieved the small tube.
“Now glue the entry wounds together. I’ve a feeling we’re going to be moving him before we’re finished.”
Sue was a calm and efficient nurse. When all this was done with, if she wanted to stay, I’d train her up as a doctor. We needed all the doctors we could get.
“Done,” she said.
“Mrs Atkins, roll him over. Sue, come here.”
The door crashed open.
“Time to go,” yelled Lee.
“We need two more minutes to stabilise him,” I shouted. I think he replied, but it was drowned out by gunfire. Then he was gone.
Mrs Atkins had rolled John on to his side so Sue and I could examine the exit wounds. One in particular bothered me. I reached into it and ran my gloved finger around his insides.
“Shit,” I muttered. “Sue, glue the other two but this one you’re going to have to make an incision, widen it, then go in and tie off the artery. Can you do that?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
The sound of gunfire was moving around the outside, to the courtyard. It was relentless and heavy; whoever Lee and the others were holding off, there were a lot of them. A sudden explosion blew in the windows and made Sue scream as one wall of the polythene clean-room came free and tumbled to the floor. She recovered her wits quickly and proceeded, her teeth gritted with determination.
She looked up and said “Done” the second Lee and Tariq ran into the room.
“Can we move him?” gasped Lee.
“Yes,” I replied. “Sue, can you...” But she already had the wounded man in a fireman’s lift.
Tariq leaned out of the door and let off a stream of fire then said: “Now!”
He went first, Sue and John behind, then Mrs Atkins pushing me in the chair, as Lee brought up the rear, firing short bursts to cover our retreat.
We left the corridor and came out into the main entrance hall. The armoured car was still stuck in the doorway, but the gun on top was pointing outside, laying down suppressing fire at the moat bridge.
Tariq climbed up on to the roof, then Sue and he manhandled John through the hatch and down into the car. I could see Sue talking urgently to Tariq as they worked, then she turned and leapt down, running past us all, back into the school.
“Where the hell is she going?” I shouted.
“Tell you later,” replied Tariq, his head poking out of the hatch. “Now get in here.”
Lee and Mrs Atkins carried me up as Tariq fired past us, and I made an ungainly entrance to the car. Lee was still firing as he closed the hatch above us.
“Go!” he shouted. Tariq put his foot down and tore us free of the doorway, reversing across the bridge, turning, and sending us speeding down the drive.
The Stryker started to clang as bullets raked the shell, but Jamal kept going and eventually the firing faded away in the distance. Once he was sure we were clear, he switched on the satnav and we headed for Fairlawne.
John was laid out on the bench opposite me and as our pursuers fell away I saw that he wasn’t breathing. Lee was already performing CPR as Mrs Atkins held his father steady. Lee’s face was splattered with blood and tears as he breathed and beat the life back into his dad. Eventually he shouted “Got him,” and I saw John’s chest rise and fall as he began to breathe again.
SITUATED OUTSIDE THE village of Shipbourne, the Fairlawne estate is a huge area of land once owned by the Cazlet family, horse breeders to the crown. Bought by a member of the Saudi royal family in the eighties, the Palladian house was fully renovated and restored. It even had a swimming pool. In many ways it was a better site for St Mark’s than Groombridge – bigger, better equipped and closer to Hildenborough, where we had friends. But we chose Groombridge because of its moat, which we thought made it easier to defend. Now that we’d abandoned our second home in a year to enemy forces, it didn’t seem like the smartest choice.
We were able to drive up to the front door without Tariq reporting any signs of life. Good, they’d been following my instructions. Secrecy was the best defence.
As long as we’d evaded pursuit – and Jamal, who’d both been watching the road behind us through the periscope, assured us that we had – then we should be safe, for a time at least.
Lee popped the hatch and climbed out, and a few minutes later a gang of boys had gathered to help me out.
I was home.
John had coped well with the journey. He was still unconscious but he didn’t seem to be in any discomfort and his breathing and pulse were strong. When I looked up after checking him over I saw Lee watching me anxiously. Just for an instant I could see the frightened boy hiding behind the brutal façade. I gave him a smile of reassurance.
“He’ll be fine,” I said. But I was lying. I needed to get him into surgery again as quickly as possible, and this time I wouldn’t have Sue to help me.
The boy relaxed, the mask came back down. Lee nodded briskly. “Good. Let’s get you both inside.”
We’d left my wheelchair behind in our rush to escape, so I made an undignified entrance, carried between Lee and Tariq past a sea of excited children, standing around the main entrance hall. Their murmuring faded away to shocked silence when I passed through. I tried to smile and put a brave face on it, but I was a sallow-cheeked, hollow-eyed wreck. I cursed the staff for not keeping them away. I had planned to clean myself up and make a dignified entrance at dinner; now that was blown to hell. I’d just have to make the best of it, but I knew that morale would suffer.
I couldn’t worry about that now, though. I began issuing instructions for the creation of an operating theatre.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
LEE
I RUBBED THE sticking plaster that covered the cotton wool patch on the crux of my arm and wondered whether my light-headedness was a result of my ear injury, blood loss following the transfusion,
or stress.
The sun was just rising above the horizon as I sat on the grass in the Fairlawne gardens, trying to calm myself and reflect on the events of the last twenty-four hours. So much to take in. Matron had been working on my dad for over half of it, all through the night without a break.
I heard the soft crunch of wheels on gravel approaching from behind. The sound changed as the wheelchair was pushed on to the grass. It came to a halt beside me and I heard someone walking away. I didn’t look up, just sat there staring at my feet.
“If you’re talking, I can’t hear you,” I said. “You’ll have to speak up, I’m basically deaf.”
“I’ve done all I can,” said Jane eventually. “Your blood made all the difference. If he lives through the day, I think he’ll be fine. But he’s in bad shape.”
“I know. And thanks.” I looked up at her and smiled.
Her eyes were deep sunken with big brown rings around them and bags beneath. Her hair was all gone, shaved clean, and the left side of her scalp was covered by a large white dressing, which marked the site of her surgery. She was pale and emaciated, gaunt and wrecked, huddled in a wheelchair without even the strength to push herself from place to place.
“Jesus, Matron, you look like shit.”
She laughed at me and said: “Look who’s talking!”
“I didn’t recognise you at first.”
“And I thought that your dad was you. He sounds like you. Or you sound like him, whatever. Through the glass, in silhouette, I was sure it was you. When I thought you’d been shot...” She left the sentence hanging.
We sat there in silence for a while, watching the sun rise behind the trees. Then I told her my story, everything that had happened from the moment I’d walked away, all those months ago. She listened patiently and never asked any questions, letting me tell it straight.
When I’d finished she reached down and ran her fingers across my scalp.
“I’m glad you’re back, Lee. I missed you.”
I didn’t meet her eyes, nervous of what I’d see there. I wouldn’t admit it to myself, but if I looked up and all I saw was maternal affection, I think that would have been the straw that broke the camel’s back. So I kept staring at my shoes, not wanting to know yet what it was she might feel for me. Better to leave it undefined for now. There was still so much to do.
“So where is everyone? What happened here?” I asked. And it was her turn to fill me in. As I listened to her tale I grew more and more angry at myself. Angry and ashamed.
“I should never have left,” I said when she finished. “If I’d been here...”
“The same things would have happened, but there’d have been more shooting, probably,” she said. “As it is, everyone’s safe.”
“Not Rowles and Caroline.”
“No, not them. We have to decide what we’re going to do about that.”
“I have a few ideas,” I said.
“But look at us, Lee. What chance do we have against Blythe and his army? A crippled matron, a deaf schoolboy and an Iraqi – did he say he was a blogger?”
“Yeah.”
“An Iraqi blogger, some guy we hardly know and a man with three bullet holes in him. It’s not exactly a task force.”
“We have to do something,” I insisted.
“Yes, we do. We have to hide. Get ourselves well, build up our strength. Bide our time. Come up with a plan.”
“And while we’re doing that, they secure their position, terrorise the populace, establish martial law across the south of England. No,” I said forcefully. “They have to be stopped now. Because once they start setting up bases across the country they’ll be too widely dispersed to fight. Our only chance is to take them all out in one fell swoop, while they’re still all collected in the one place.”
“Oh well, if that’s all it takes,” she mocked, “I’ll call the mothership and get them to nuke Salisbury Plain from orbit, shall I? I want Rowles and Caroline back as much as you do, more so, probably. But there comes a point where you have to cut your losses. We can’t win this one, Lee. We just can’t.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, and I felt the anger rising inside me as she spoke. I stood up and leaned over her.
“What happened to the Matron I knew, huh?” I spat furiously. “The woman who’d do anything to protect the kids in her care; the woman who’d stop at nothing to ensure the safety of others; the woman who stood up to Mac when no-one else would; the woman who showed me what true courage is? What happened to her? You don’t even look like her.”
I walked away in disgust, knowing even as I did so that I was out of order, being cruel and callous when I should have been kind and caring. But I couldn’t help it. I was brim full of fury that had nowhere to go, so I took it out on her.
If she shouted after me, I didn’t hear.
JANE
“HERE, TAKE THIS.”
The voice made me jump. I hadn’t heard anyone approaching. I wiped my eyes and looked up to see Tariq offering me a handkerchief. I smiled gratefully and took it, blowing my runny nose and wiping my eyes as the young Iraqi sat in the spot Lee had vacated a few minutes earlier.
“I saw him walking away,” he said gently. “He looked angry.”
I nodded.
“He is a very angry boy, I think,” he continued. “You should not take whatever he said personally. He is young.”
I snorted. “And how old are you, exactly?” I asked, not unkindly.
“Not so much older, it’s true. But I grew up in a very different world to Lee. I did not expect freedom, I knew it would be something I had to fight for, and I knew the risks. I saw every day what a world run by bullies looked like. It seems to me to be almost the natural way of things. For Lee, freedom is all he has ever known and now to have it taken away from him, it seems unfair. He is a teenager, too. I know he seems older, and he tries to pretend that he is a man. But he is a boy, still, with a boy’s anger and a boy’s loneliness. He is trying to be his father, you know? I have fought beside his father for a long time and he is strong, resolute, cunning. But he is not an easy man. He never rests, he is always moving. I do not think he really understands happiness. And Lee is more like his father than he knows.”
I was taken aback. Here was this person I didn’t know, talking to me like we were old friends. I almost got defensive, said “what do you know?” But I stopped myself. He meant well, I could see that. And what he said was true.
“I thought you were a blogger, not a psychoanalyst,” I said with a wry smile.
He nodded sadly. “I think I am now a soldier, Miss Crowther. I think these days we all are, no matter what we may have been before.”
“I don’t want to be a soldier. Neither does Lee.”
“I know. But the truth is, from what I hear of you, that you are both very good at it.”
“Ha! Have you looked at the pair of us? We’re in bloody pieces.”
“But you are still standing.” He looked up at the wheelchair, realised his mistake, and actually blushed. “I mean, you know what I mean. Sorry.”
I laughed out loud. “Don’t worry about it. Look, you may be right but I won’t accept it. I’m not a soldier, neither is Lee. We’re just normal people trying to get a little peace. That’s all. I have to believe that one day we’ll be left alone.”
He shook his head sadly and said: “Not while General Blythe is in command, you won’t. He’ll be more convinced than ever that you’re a threat now. He doesn’t like loose ends. We have two choices: we destroy him or we run.”
I was too tired to respond to that stark assessment. He rose and pushed me back towards the main house.
“Come on,” he said. “Time for breakfast.”
I STILL WASN’T ready to face the school, so we had breakfast in the kitchens. Lee was there, sullenly refusing to meet my eye. He, Jamal, Tariq and I feasted on scrambled eggs with fresh basil, and Mrs Atkins and Justin explained what had happened while I’d been unconscious in the
sick bay of the school.
They had returned to Groombridge on their own to make sure it wasn’t occupied by another group while the others remained at Fairlawne. Then Sanders, Jack and I rolled up to the door. Sanders insisted that Jack be taken to Fairlawne and kept safe, and Justin took him. Mrs Atkins and Sanders made me as comfortable as they could, but neither of them had medical training and I was in a very bad way. That night the Americans arrived in force. Sanders didn’t even try to fight, recognising a lost cause when he saw one. Instead, he changed into civvies and pretended to be a farmer. I’d been in a car crash, he told the soldiers. It might have worked, but unfortunately he used my name as part of the cover story. There was no way he could have known they were looking for me, so why give me a pseudonym?
They started torturing him almost immediately. Mrs Atkins was locked up and I was taken away for emergency surgery. At some point Sanders must have broken enough to tell them he was SAS, but it seemed he’d told them nothing else. The Yanks certainly didn’t know about Fairlawne or Jack.
It broke my heart to think what Sanders must have gone through. They didn’t kill him for two weeks.
Once the school was secured most of the soldiers had gone back to Salisbury, leaving the school apparently exposed, luring Lee and the others into a trap.
And now the choice that faced us was simple: fight or flight. None of us could make our minds up.
“Run where?” asked Lee. “If what Matron’s told us about Operation Motherland is true, Blythe’s got overwhelming firepower and resources at his command, not to mention a well-drilled army. First he’ll begin by terrorising the local population, like he did in Basra. Then he’ll start recruiting and training. It won’t be long before he takes control of the whole of southern England.”
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