by Jon Grahame
‘We’d like very much to come along,’ said Milo Montague.
‘Do you have a car?’
‘Of course. Doesn’t everybody?’ he said.
‘Then follow us.’
He got back in the MPV and they waited until the two men went into the hotel and re-emerged a few minutes later. Montague was pulling a suitcase on wheels and Houseman was carrying a leather holdall.
They put the bags in the back of a Range Rover and drove it out of the car park.
‘Home?’ said Sandra.
‘Home,’ said Reaper.
Because it was home now and, according to Sandra, he was allowed feelings. But did he want them?
As the weeks went by and the population of the Haven – or simply Haven as it was increasingly called – grew, the community took on self-imposed rules and disciplines. The Reverend Nick, Jean and Ashley acted as welcoming committee and billeting officers, explaining to all newcomers that they had to work. There were too few of them to put up with malingerers or those looking for an easy life. It didn’t matter what religion anyone professed, they would work hard six days a week and rest on the seventh, which just happened to be Sunday, when Nick would hold a non-denomina-tional service for those who wished to attend.
Ashley and Kate suggested this arrangement might be enhanced if the pub was reopened one night a week, on a Saturday, and a social evening held in its dining room. This was enthusiastically agreed. Kate also moved into the flat above the pub.
Reaper’s armed force continued to train with their weapons, practising loading, combat positions, stance and firing with blanks, and always cleaning their equipment after use.
James Marshall, despite being only fourteen, proved an excellent shot and opted to continue his military training. He was a mature boy, tall and rangy with a mass of curly hair, but had yet to grow into his body.
After a week, Reaper had no qualms in issuing him with side arm and carbine, and he began to partner Pete. On the second trip, he returned with the same combat uniform worn by Reaper and the girls. Pete, who preferred civvies to military service, made a joke about it. But the little army was taking on an identity.
Archery proved popular as a sport and a dozen men and women practised regularly on the butts they created. The crossbow was the more deadly close quarter weapon but took longer to load than the longbow, which was the more popular weapon. Reaper and Sandra took part in the practice shoots and Sandra became very proficient.
In Bridlington, Reaper and Sandra met a group who had settled into the Royal Yorkshire Yacht Club. This distinctive white building was built on a sharp corner, and had the appearance of a liner from an earlier age, that had been beached on land. Its prow pointed purposefully towards the harbour across the road.
Prominent among its two dozen people were Bob Stainthorpe, a former Yacht Club member, and Nagus Shipley, the skipper of one of the small fishing smacks in the harbour. Nagus had already re-started fishing to augment the group’s tinned diet. After being initially suspicious, they welcomed Reaper and Sandra and saw the sense in forging alliances. They served them fish and chips and, when they left, they had a box of cod in the back of the car, which meant that they were soon driving with the windows open.
‘I’ll put up with it,’ said Sandra. ‘I never thought I’d taste proper fish and chips again.’
Reaper kept one worry to himself: the Territorial Army base in Scarborough, home to members of the 4th Battalion of the Yorkshire Regiment (TA), had been raided and all weapons had gone, although some ammunition had been left behind. He had searched the offices and discovered that most of the local service personnel had actually been in Canada on manoeuvres but, whatever weapons had been left, were now missing. Should he worry unduly? It could be another group like their own, wanting only protection. But the niggle at the back of his mind was that it could be a gang like Jerome’s, only better organised and with more ambition. He asked Ferguson and Dr Malone at the Castle about any other groups, but they had heard nothing.
Reaper teamed up with Kate for a trip to Scarborough and they called at The Alma to find Shaggy and see if he had any new intelligence. The visit was an experience but elicited no useful information. The middle aged woman Reaper had first seen sitting on the pavement drinking wine was sleeping on a bench seat. He got the impression she slept from one hangover to the next.
‘That’s Dolores,’ said Shaggy. ‘She looked after her invalid mum all her life until it happened.
Suddenly she was free.’ He shrugged and glanced at the thin, elderly chap with long white hair and straggly beard, who wore a black cloak. On closer inspection, the cloak was velvet and embroidered with magical symbols. ‘Ernie’s not really a follower of wicca. He got the cloak from The Futurist – the theatre? There was a magic act on. Ernie was stage doorman.’
A middle-aged man, in a respectable but grubby suit, sat alone in a corner reading a newspaper, sipping whisky and water. Shaggy inclined his head in his direction. ‘Mr Windsor. Solicitor. He comes in every day, lunchtime and teatime. Reads the newspaper. Same newspaper. Keeps to a routine. Then goes home to the furniture shop across the road. He sleeps in a bed in the side window. He doesn’t talk about his family. He had a wife and two daughters.’
A girl in her twenties, who had a wide-eyed lost look and was carrying a holdall on a strap across her shoulders, came nervously to Shaggy and touched his arm.
‘This is Elaine,’ Shaggy said. Elaine smiled without focusing on either Reaper or Kate, and nodded her head. ‘Can you get me another packet of those Jalapeño crisps, sweetheart?’ Shaggy said and, nodding, she moved away. ‘She lost her baby,’ he whispered. ‘It was two months old.’ He took another sip from a bottle of tequila and pulled a face. ‘It makes you wonder if it’s worth it, man. Know what I mean? Maybe I should find a gun and blow my head off.’ He smiled at Reaper. ‘You could lend me one, man. Have it back after.’
‘I won’t do that, Shaggy.’
‘Didn’t think you would.’ He pushed the tequila bottle to the far side of the table. ‘God but I’m getting tired.’
Kate said, ‘Of life?’
‘Of this. And if this is life . . .?’
Reaper said, ‘Maybe it’s time to stop drinking, Shaggy.’
‘Nothing else to do. All the weed is gone and I never did trust pills.’
‘What did you do?’ Reaper said. ‘Before?’
‘Not a lot, man.’
Kate said, ‘You must have done something.’
Elaine came back with the crisps, dropped them on the table, sat next to Shaggy and said, ‘Rock star.
Shaggy was a rock star.’
‘A rock star?’ said Kate.
Shaggy pulled a face but patted Elaine’s hand in thanks for the crisps.
‘I was in bands. We supported Quo once. And Dr Hook. Supported lots of bands. But never headlined – except in pub gigs. But that was then, man. I haven’t played for three years. Lost the urge. And now . . .’ he tried to laugh but the humour fizzled out, ‘now there’s no one left to friggin listen.’
Kate said, ‘Why don’t you come back with us? You and Elaine.’
‘Become a farmer?’ He shook his head as if it was about as farfetched as him being a rock star. ‘Besides, who’d look after this crew?’
Reaper looked round the room.
‘How did you meet?’ he said.
‘They just drifted in here and liked the ambience.’
Reaper said, ‘There’s a group at the castle. They’d help you.’
‘I heard about them. But who’d want to look after a bunch of loonies? Maybe the madness will wear off, eventually. Maybe they’ll just drift away. Maybe.’
‘If you’re waiting for them to leave, you could be waiting a long time,’ said Kate.
‘I’m in no rush. I’ve got nowhere else to go.’ He leaned towards Elaine and said, ‘Sweetheart. Would you get me a can of lemonade?’
The girl got up and went towards the bar, happy to have a
purpose.
Reaper said, ‘When the time comes, remember you’ll be welcome with us.’
‘Yeah, man. When the time comes. When Elaine gets a little better. That bag she carries? Her baby’s in there.
I think we’ll wait awhile.’
They shook hands with Shaggy and waved to Elaine as she came back with the lemonade but she didn’t notice them.
‘We’ll be back in a week,’ Reaper said.
‘We’ll be here,’ said Shaggy.
Chapter 11
SANDRA WORE THE DRESS THAT REAPER had given her for the first Saturday night social. He had come to regard her as friend, comrade, confidante and surrogate daughter, and had forgotten she was also a young and pretty girl.
‘You look stunning,’ he told her.
‘It was your choice.’
‘I don’t mean the dress. You are stunning.’
Reaper still wore his usual combat trousers and T-shirt, although he had discarded the Kevlar vest and weapons. He had left his sidearms on a top shelf behind the bar. Pete was standing guard in the mobile home outpost on the other side of the hill, Reaper would relieve him in a couple of hours. The whole community was turning out for the evening and the crowd had spilled outside onto patio tables and benches. Music was coming from the dining room, sounds of the sixties on a battery operated disc player.
Before the night was out, he guessed people would be dancing and maybe forging tentative relationships enhanced by alcohol and hope.
‘Do I get a dance later?’ she said.
‘You’ll get lots of dances,’ he said, glancing over her head. ‘Most of them with this chap. Good evening, Jamie.’
‘Reaper.’ Jamie Hinchliffe was freshly scrubbed in pressed jeans and an open-neck blue shirt. His eyes were locked on Sandra. ‘God, Sandra, You look wonderful.’
He took both her hands in his own and kissed her on the cheek, making her blush.
‘I’ll see you later,’ Reaper said, and eased himself into the crowd.
Kate and Ashley were behind the bar. Reaper commandeered the solitary high stool and leaned with his back against the wall in the corner, watching the people, all of them still suffering in one way or another, still grieving, but beginning to maybe have faith in a future. He marvelled at the normality of what was happening this evening, to the strains of the Beatles, the Searchers and the Stones. Kate was wearing a fitted blouse, black skirt and an enigmatic smile.
‘You look like the Mona Lisa,’ he said, as she poured a can of Tetley bitter into a pint glass for him. ‘What’s so amusing?’
‘You? Without a gun?’ He shrugged. Since the happening, he had always worn one or slept with one to hand. ‘You look naked,’ she said.
He widened his eyes. ‘What a terrible thought!’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ she said, and moved away to serve someone else.
He continued to survey the room, seeing how, even in such a short time, people had begun to change.
Lugubrious Gavin Price nodding his head in agreement as he listened patiently to the always garrulous Jean Megson, wearing yet another low cut blouse to its best advantage. Milo Montague, looking a lot fitter than when Reaper had first seen him, relaxed in Judith’s company, and Jason Houseman doing his best to charm the former schoolgirls Caroline and Helen.
Reaper wondered if Houseman’s gleaming smile was powered by batteries. Jenny joined the group and he couldn’t tell whether it was because she was attracted to Houseman or because she wanted to protect the girls.
Outside, the children were playing under the watchful eyes of others of the company and he noticed that strangers were present, people he had not seen before, who had come from the surrounding villages and farm communities. Reaper was pleased at this coming together, this melding of different folk from different backgrounds in a new beginning, but felt separate from it, like the spectre at the feast. People smiled at him, but didn’t seem particularly keen to be in his company.
They appreciated his reputation for violence, but wanted no part of it. He was, he supposed, a necessary evil, and the thought made him smile.
‘Now you’re smiling,’ Kate said.
He looked into her eyes. ‘Why not? I like the company.’
Reaper only had the one beer and left after an hour.
The social was good, but it was not for him. He asked Ashley for his sidearms and, as he was strapping them on, Kate came over. ‘You’re leaving already?’
‘This is more Pete’s scene. Him and Ruth and Emma.’
‘You’ll miss the pie and peas. Jean’s special recipe.’
‘I’ll get some next time. Goodnight, Kate.’
She nodded goodbye, still smiling her enigmatic smile.
Reaper walked up the hill, the sounds of music, conversation and laughter fading behind him. At the top he looked back. The light was still strong but a lamp glowed through one of the pub windows. It was a scene that would have pulled at his heart if he had been sentimental, but he wasn’t. He was the man alone, the man with the reputation for death. He strode over the hill to relieve Pete.
*
The night was warm and he sat outside on a folding camp chair, the handguns still strapped around his waist and a carbine propped against the side of the motor home. It was close to midnight and a moon showed an empty countryside. No sounds, no lights.
He heard a twig crack.
He grabbed the carbine and ran silently to the side of the van. He glanced round it and saw a figure coming carefully down the hill towards him carrying something that could be a club. He waited another few moments, judging the approach, moved out of the cover of the van, pointed the carbine and saw the red dot of the sights appear on the shadow in front of him.
‘Stop right there,’ he said.
The figure stopped and said, ‘Not a very friendly welcome.’
‘Kate?’
‘I bring gifts.’
She held up what he now saw was a bottle of wine.
He lowered the carbine, feeling foolish, and she came closer and he saw her in the moonlight, smiling.
She put her arms around his neck, bottle still in hand, and kissed him on the mouth, her soft body pressing against his. For a moment he didn’t react. He was surprised, even shocked. She broke away and looked at him quizzically.
‘That’s not particularly welcoming either,’ she said.
She went into the van and put the bottle of wine in the sink. He followed and she took the carbine from him and put it on the table. ‘Why don’t we try again?’
This time he did not hesitate. His arms went around her and he thrilled at her closeness, her softness and the taste of her mouth. His breathing was becoming laboured and he was aware of his arousal and he stepped away.
‘I don’t know,’ he said.
‘I do,’ Kate said.
‘You don’t know about me.’
‘You can tell me later. Or not. But right now, I know all I need to know. And I know you need me.’
‘I don’t know.’
‘You need someone, Reaper. And I’m here and I need you.’ She moved back into his arms, they kissed again, and his confused emotions broke apart and he was touching, feeling, reaching. They moved to the bed at the back of the van, falling upon it and upon each other.
Much later, they lay naked together in the shadows.
The initial sex had been fierce and fast. Then they had rested and made love; slowly with patience and discovery, before drifting into a half-sleep where he kept touching her to reassure himself it had not been a dream.
‘Did you have this planned?’ he said.
‘Yes.’
‘That was why you were smiling?’
‘Yes.’
‘You’re a special woman, Kate.’
‘If I hadn’t made a move, you never would have.’
‘I’m glad you did, but I still don’t know if it was the right move.’
‘Reaper, I’m attracted to you and I know you are attracted to me. We’re
not children and neither of us should have any illusions. This . . .’ and by the way she moved her head he knew she meant Haven, ‘could end tomorrow. Life is precarious. We both know that.
So what’s so wrong about it?’
‘Nothing. Absolutely nothing. It’s just me. I never thought this would happen again.’
‘This?’
‘Making love. Attraction. Feeling foolish when I’m with you. In the past, I made promises to myself and I don’t know if I deserve this – you. I carry a history.’
‘It’s not just a history you carry. It’s guilt. And you think too much. Every moment is precious. We should enjoy the moments we can.’
‘You’re probably right but it’s been a damn long time since I had a precious moment.’ He leant over and kissed her. ‘I suppose I’m out of practice.’
Kate slept a little and Reaper got up and dressed and watched her sleep. Watched the curves of her body, the rise of a breast as she breathed, the slightly parted lips that still seemed to hold a secret smile, her clear pale skin, her long legs, the curling hair like burnished copper beyond. He wanted her again but he resisted.
She was right. He felt guilty but not despondent. The guilt would always be with him but he now realised there was also room for love. He put on the Kevlar vest, strapped on all his weapons and, as the early dawn began to lighten the sky, he brewed fresh coffee.
The smell, and his movements, roused her.
She lay on her back and propped herself on one elbow, uncaring of her nakedness. That smile again.
‘I can’t tempt you?’ she said, knowing the moment had passed.
‘Always. But right now I’m resisting temptation. It will make me stronger.’ He thumped the Kevlar vest like Tarzan. ‘And it will make next time all the sweeter.’
‘Good,’ she said. ‘Bring on the next time.’
He smiled and poured coffee. ‘You’re a wanton woman.’
‘That’s true. I want you, Reaper.’
He looked up and their eyes met. Her expression was serious. So was his, but could she read the flickering doubts he still had?
