The Restraint of Beasts

by Magnus Mills

  “Pint apiece, is it, lads?”

  “Alright then.”

  “In tankards?”

  “Oh, er, no, thanks.”

  “Most people ask for tankards.”

  “No, no. Straight glasses. Thanks.”

  “Right you are.”

  I wondered if other people in other pubs throughout the land were having the same conversation. Tam and Richie had already made for a table at the far side of the room, so it looked like I was buying the first round.

  As I joined them they looked glum.

  “This is shite,” Tam muttered. “There’s no one here.”

  “Maybe there’ll be some more in later,” I said.

  “Maybe.”

  “Beer’s piss-weak too,” remarked Richie.

  So we sat at our chosen table, and waited for the evening to pass. After about half an hour the publican disappeared into a room behind the bar, leaving us completely alone. When he returned he had a mug of tea in his hand.

  “For fuck sake,” said Tam quietly. “You’d never catch Jock drinking tea when he’s on duty.”

  It was not until well after ten that the first locals appeared and sat around the bar on what were obviously their usual stools. The publican put away his aeroplane and moved into position behind the counter, which allowed him to take part in the various discussions the regulars were having. As one or two more people turned up in the pub a background drone developed, so that we no longer had to lower our voices to speak to each other.

  “Have you noticed there are no women at the Hall Brothers’ place?” I said.

  “I know,” said Richie. “Not even in the canteen.”

  “Fucking none here either,” observed Tam.

  Last orders meant last orders in the Mason’s Arms, so we found ourselves back on the road just after eleven fifteen. The walk to the factory seemed to take much longer than the outward journey, and the weather had turned colder. By the time the gateway came into sight, the warming effect of the beer had completely worn off. As we came up the drive we saw that the loading bay was brightly lit by floodlamps. Several vans were lined up with their engines running, and the noise was augmented by the rumbling of their refrigerator units. Some of the men stopped what they were doing and looked across at us as we approached.

  “What are they staring at?” said Tam.

  “Nothing,” I said. “Pay no attention to them.”

  “Look,” said Richie. “We’ve been burgled.”

  That’s what it looked like anyway. The caravan door had been thrown open and the strip light switched on. Then David Hall appeared in the doorway, holding a dustpan and brush.

  “Where have you been?” he demanded.

  “To the pub,” I said.

  “Haven’t you got enough to do here?”

  “Not really.”

  “You surprise me. Who’s going to wash your socks?”

  “Pardon?”

  “Those don’t look like hands that do dishes.”

  “Oh,” I said. “No, ‘spose not.”

  He unblocked the door and allowed us to go inside. I couldn’t tell if he’d been searching the caravan or just tidying up. Either way I wasn’t sure what to say next. Maybe he was merely stamping his authority over us, but it struck me at that moment that the Hall Brothers had some very funny ideas about what was and what wasn’t important. We all sat down on our respective beds as he gazed at us from the doorstep, slowly shaking his head.

  “I don’t know why you can’t just stay home at nights,” he said at last.

  “We didn’t go very far,” I replied.

  “Didn’t say you did.”

  A bell rang from somewhere inside the factory. David Hall looked at his watch, grunted and stalked off into the darkness.

  “For fuck sake,” said Richie, after he’d gone. “He’s worse than my mother.”

  We had a quick look round the caravan to try and see what he’d been doing, but really we were all too tired to come to any sensible conclusion.

  “Who cares?” said Tam, crashing out on his bed. “I’m going to sleep.”

  This was easier said than done. The combined din of the refrigerator vans and the operations in the loading bay continued late into the night. Bells rang. Other vehicles came and went, and heavy doors were slammed shut as unknown voices gave instructions. It wasn’t until after three o’clock that the last of the vans departed.

  “Are you still awake?” said Tam.

  “No,” replied Richie.

  “Have you noticed we never see those guys from the factory going home?”

  “That fucker probably doesn’t let them.”

  “No…ha. Night then.”

  “Night.”

  ♦

  The following morning, having breakfasted on sausages, we continued work on the new fence. After a couple of hours we noticed a large party approaching from the direction of the factory. It was the men from the canteen, but instead of their white butchers’ coats they were all wearing blue overalls. David Hall accompanied them.

  “Got a fag, Rich?” said Tam.

  Richie produced a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket and fished in his jeans for a light. Then they lit up and stood close together smoking. This was their excuse to stop work and watch what was going on, but I didn’t mind because we’d all been working quite hard during the morning. Judging by the excited chatter we could hear anyone would have thought the men were all going on a picnic or something, but when they got to the first Hall Bros. fence we saw why they’d come out. Directed by David Hall they began dismantling the fence quickly and efficiently, taking away the old posts and wire. The makeshift demolition squad made short work of the first fence and moved on to the next one. As they laboured David Hall acted as overseer, occasionally glancing in our direction. This was enough to keep Tam and Richie motivated all day, and by the evening the first line of posts was in position. Meanwhile, all the old fences had been removed by the Hall Brothers’ men, leaving us a clear site to work on. As dusk approached they headed back towards the factory, and we returned to the caravan.

  “Fucking steak and kidney fucking pie again I expect,” said Tam as we lay resting on our bunks.

  “Well I think their pie’s quite tasty actually,” I replied.

  “We still don’t want it every night, do we?”

  “Suppose not.”

  Richie had a suggestion. “Why doesn’t one of us go out tomorrow and buy some different food of our own?”

  I looked at Tam. “What do you think of that idea?”

  “Ain’t got any money.”

  “What, nothing?”

  “Nope.”

  “How much have you got, Rich?”

  “About a fiver.”

  “Non-starter then, isn’t it?”

  “Yep.”

  This meant, of course, that I was going to have to start pestering Donald for some wages. Otherwise I’d end up lending Tam and Richie money, and I didn’t want to go through all that again. For the time being it looked like the canteen or nothing. And we couldn’t complain really. The food was good and there was plenty of tea. A little later we were sitting at our usual table when we received another visit from David Hall.

  “Finished?” he said.

  “Yes, thanks,” I replied.

  “Want some more?”

  “Er…no. Thanks anyway.”

  “You’ll be taking an early bath then, will you?”

  “Well, we’ll probably have a stroll down the pub later,” I said. “Got a phone call to make.”

  “And you’ll be straight back?”

  “Bit later, yeah.”

  “I see.” He thrust his hand into his pocket and produced a bunch of silver tags indented with the words HALL BROS. “Fix these to the fence when it’s complete, can you?”

  He placed them on the table in front of me.

  “Actually,” I said, “we don’t normally put things like that on our fences. Normally.”

 
“We’d prefer it if you did,” he said.

  I glanced at Tam and Richie. They were both looking with interest into their mugs of tea.

  “OK, then,” I said, putting the tags in my pocket.

  After David Hall had gone, Tam said, “You didn’t ask about a key.”

  “No,” I said. “Forgot.”

  As we sat silently draining our mugs, Bryan Hall emptied a pan of water over the griddle, so that it steamed and hissed. Then he began scrubbing, and paused only to glance at us when we got up to leave.

  The walk to the pub wasn’t so bad that night, now we knew how many bends there were to go round. It was still a long way though, and I resolved to ask John Hall for a key the following day. When we finally got to the Mason’s Arms, Tam and Richie went and got the drinks in while I gave Donald a ring.

  “How’s it going?” he began.

  “OK,” I replied. “We’ve got the posts in for the first section, and we’ll get the wires on tomorrow.”

  “Good. Then you can connect the electricity.”

  “Well, we were going to leave that until all the fences were up.”

  “You’re supposed to be connecting it up as you go along, section by section.”

  This was news to me.

  “Does it make any difference?” I asked.

  “I’m afraid so,” said Donald. “Sounds to me as if you’re putting it off.”

  “Not really.”

  “We want to keep Mr Hall happy, don’t we?”

  “Spose.”

  “So get it connected section by section please.”

  “OK.”

  “By the way,” he continued, “your uniforms are now ready. I’ll see to it that they’re delivered in due course.”

  “Oh…right. Er, any chance of some wages?”

  “What for?”

  “Well, we need money for food and things.”

  “It was arranged with Mr Hall that you would be allowed use of his canteen three times a day.”

  “I know.”

  “Therefore you don’t need any money.”

  “But we only ever get pies and sausages.”

  There was a pause.

  “Don’t you like Mr Hall’s sausages then?”

  “Yes, but…” At this moment the pips started going. “That’s my last coin.”

  “Alright,” said Donald. “Keep in touch.”

  With that the phone went dead. I took a deep breath, crossed the green to the Mason’s Arms, and went inside. Behind the bar the publican was busy applying paint to the wingtips of his plane. He gave me a bit of a welcome and said that my ‘pals’ had already got me a beer. Tam and Richie were sitting at the same table as the night before, in the same chairs. When I sat down they told me quietly that the landlord had been asking all sorts of questions about fencing.

  “What sort of questions?” I asked.

  “The usual ones,” said Tam. “Why do they ask questions all the time?”

  “Maybe he’s interested,” I suggested.

  “I don’t go round asking people about their jobs do I?”

  “No.”

  “All I want is a fucking pint.”

  “That’s all you’re getting. Donald says we can’t have any wages.”

  I looked at Tam and Richie’s faces and wondered if Donald realized the consequences of his actions. By not sending any wages he was more or less pulling the plug on those two. I knew from my time with them that they could only work in the day if they had beer to look forward to at night. Donald didn’t seem to understand this, and as usual it was me who would have to keep them going. It was me who would have to sub them until he decided to pay us. And, of course, it would be me who had to deal with the Hall Brothers.

  In the event, our next encounter with them wasn’t until the following afternoon when we’d got most of the wires fixed on and tightened. Richie suddenly spotted John Hall approaching from the direction of the factory and we all doubly busied ourselves with our respective tasks.

  “He won’t find anything wrong with this,” said Tam. “It’s dead straight.”

  Mr Hall seemed to be in expansive mood.

  “Yes, this’ll do it,” he said, as he joined us. “This is what will keep them under control.” He stood looking through the wires at the adjoining land, his hands thrust deep in the pockets of his white coat.

  “We committed no end of good deeds!” he declared. “Yet still we lost the school dinners! Always the authorities laying down some new requirement, one thing after another! This time it seems we must provide more living space. Very well! If that’s the way they want it, we’ll go on building fences for ever if necessary! We’ll build pens and compounds and enclosures! And we’ll make sure we never lose them again!”

  While Mr Hall was speaking Tam, Richie and I stood awkwardly nearby. I wasn’t sure if he was addressing us or just making some general point. Obviously the school dinners meant more to him than we’d realized. After a few moments in deep thought he glanced at us and then began to examine the fence again.

  “You’ll be connecting the electricity next, I gather.”

  “Yes,” I said. “Should be doing that tomorrow.”

  “That’s good. The sooner it’s done the better.” Mr Hall gave his new fence another look, and then returned the way he’d come.

  “I’ll be glad when we get back on a normal job,” said Tam.

  I couldn’t agree more, but we had to get this one done first, so as soon as John Hall had gone I got Tam and Richie going again fixing the barbed wire at the top of the fence. This turned out to be a real struggle. It was hard enough working with barb at normal height, but we were having to do it at the top of a seven-foot fence, and there were four strands as well. We got in all sorts of tangles and it was dusk before we finally got the last wire on. Exhausted, we trudged back towards the factory yard in the mounting gloom, with nothing to look forward to more than steak and kidney pie. As we approached the caravan we noticed that the light was on.

  “For fuck sake,” I said. “Now what?”

  We opened the door and looked inside. Morag Paterson was sitting on the end of Tam’s bed.

  ∨ The Restraint of Beasts ∧

  Sixteen

  “Morag, what are you doing here?” said Tam, as she rose to greet us.

  “Just paying you a visit,” she replied. “See how my boys are keeping.”

  She was wearing some kind of uniform. It consisted of little more than a simple overall, but the design was such that all the fastenings were concealed. Around the waist she wore a broad belt that served no obvious purpose other than to emphasize the cut of the fabric, which lay more or less perfectly over every contour of her body.

  The three of us stood there gawping at her for a few moments before Tam managed to say, “Well, it’s great to see you. Your outfit looks very…tight.”

  She smiled.

  “It just needed a tuck here and a tuck there. You know. Lift and separate.”

  “Er…like a cup of tea or something?” I asked.

  “I’d better give you these first.” A box had been placed on the other bunk, and under the glare of the strip light Morag now began to remove the packaging.

  “I’ve brought your new uniforms,” she said. “Special delivery.”

  “What, from the company?” said Tam.

  “Of course.”

  “I didn’t know you’d joined.”

  “Oh, Donald’s recruiting all the time. I’m his latest. We’ve been working very closely together.”

  “Have you?”

  “Very closely indeed.”

  The uniforms had been neatly pressed and folded. They were only overalls really, but they all bore an emblem depicting a sort of half-open portcullis.

  “What’s this?” I asked.

  “The new company insignia,” replied Morag.

  “And when are we supposed to wear these?”

  “All the time.”

  “Not at night, though, surely?” />
  “While you’re here you represent the company. Therefore you should wear your uniform at all times.”

  “Therefore?”

  “Correct. Now I must go and pay my respects to Mr Hall. After all, I am his guest.”

  Morag ran a hand through her hair and slipped out of the caravan into the night. As soon as she’d gone Tam clapped his hands. “Waap!” he cried. “You two’ll have to sleep in the truck tonight! Ya haa!”

  “We’re still going to the pub though, aren’t we?” said Richie.

  “Fucking right!” said Tam, looking at me. “Alright for a sub?”

  “OK,” I said.

  “Right,” he said. “We’ll get changed now and as soon as she comes back we can go out.”

  Morag’s arrival had certainly revived Tam’s spirits. I hadn’t seen him so enthusiastic for quite a while, although it struck me that he was taking certain things for granted. Very soon kettles were being boiled and hair was being washed as we all ‘got ready’. Then we sat down and waited for Morag to come back.

  “We forgot to go to the canteen,” I said, after a while. “It’ll be closed now.”

  “That’s alright,” said Tam. “We’ll get something later.”

  “We’re going to look like cunts in those outfits,” remarked Richie.

  “Well, Morag looked good in hers.”

  “She’d look good in anything,” said Tam. “What’s keeping her anyway?”

  An hour had passed since Morag left us, which seemed a bit of a long time.

  “We’ve got to see Mr Hall about a key,” I said. “Why don’t we go now?”

  “Go on then,” said Tam.

  “All of us,” I said.

  “Why?”

  “Cos I’m not going on my own.”

  Tam tutted. “C’mon then.”

  When we got round to the offices they were all in darkness, but there was the usual level of activity in the factory, so we went in through the side door. Once inside we could hear the sound of refrigeration equipment rumbling, and sausage machines doing their work. There were men here and there attending to various production processes. In the centre of the factory floor was a small square office with a frosted glass panel in the door, bearing the words FOREMAN. Behind it we could see two white shapes beneath a single light-bulb. I knocked and one of the shapes came and opened the door. It was David Hall.