Heaven's Door

by Michael Knaggs

  “Did you get much sleep?” Tom remembered asking the next morning.

  “No,” was the reply, with obvious regret, “but more than I actually wanted.”

  With the EC135 approaching directly towards the platform, it was difficult for the passengers to see it clearly – except by straining to look through the cockpit – until the pilot lost height and circled a hundred feet or so above it.

  At that altitude, they were closer to the two lifeless figures on the security fence than were the people on the recreation deck below. As the chopper approached, a dozen or so sea birds that had been perched on the bodies or close to them on the wire rose and then flew down towards the waves, circling around the platform as if waiting for their chance to return. But even with the harrowing human drama to digest, the initial impact of the situation was dominated by the gigantic size of the platform and its absolute isolation. The fickle weather conditions had drawn a curtain over St Kilda again, and it was possible to believe that this was the only thing that existed on the planet.

  The lines of razor wire, twenty-five in all, ran in parallel lengths round the full circumference of the superstructure, attached to vertical metal posts at six-foot intervals, creating an impassable fence thirty feet high.

  The two lifeless forms were in identical positions, each with one arm and one leg stretched out ahead of the other, snared immovably as they attempted to climb either to safety or freedom. It was as if they had been crawling, single file along the ground, then frozen and turned vertically upwards through ninety degrees. The head of the leading figure hung forward, chin on chest, while the other’s had fallen back and slightly to one side and was facing the sky.

  As the Eurocopter drew closer still, the work of the sea birds could be clearly seen; eye sockets devoid of their contents and flesh plucked and hanging from faces and limbs.

  “Can we go now?” asked Eleanor, her voice trembling. “What are we doing here anyway?”

  “Yes,” said Gordon, “let’s head back.”

  “How can we get them down?” asked Tom.

  “Our problem,” Calum replied, with absolute authority, “but rest assured, we’ll keep you informed.”

  No one spoke as the helicopter climbed away from the platform for the return.

  Calum broke the silence. “Once the weather settles down a bit more – could be a few days yet – we’ll get someone onto the fence from a chopper. We’ll attach a line to each body in turn and cut the wire around them. Then we’ll lift them off. Needs to be pretty still to do that though. Don’t want to be sending someone else the next day to cut the winch man free.”

  “And the fence itself. Can we fix that?” asked Gordon.

  “First things first. The fence can wait.”

  *

  Matty was seated at the desk, a half empty polystyrene cup of coffee in one hand and his phone in the other. His laptop was open in front of him. Tom thought his relaxed manner and impeccable appearance seemed at odds with the drama going on around him. He got to his feet quickly as Tom entered.

  “Hi, Matty,” said Tom, waving him to be seated again. “Finish your call, but I need to make a couple myself from here pretty urgently.”

  “Yes, of course,” said Matty, sitting back down. “Speak later,” he said in to the phone, ending the call and getting to his feet again immediately. He almost ran to the door.

  “Can I get you something to drink, sir?” he said, turning back as he opened it.

  “No, I’m fine. Can you get in touch with James, though, and both stand by. We should be resuming the meeting very shortly.”

  “Okay, right away.”

  He closed the door behind him.

  Tom picked up the receiver and entered a number.

  “Hi, Shirley. Is it possible to speak to the PM right away?”

  “He’s in a meeting at the moment.”

  “That’s not what I asked, was it?” he said.

  “No, sorry, Home Secretary. What I mean is, do you want me to interrupt him, or can it wait?”

  “Right now would be really good.”

  “Just a moment, please.”

  Thirty seconds of silence.

  “Can he phone you back on that number in five minutes?”

  “No, that’s okay. I’ll hold until you can put me through,” said Tom.

  “Okay, sir. I’ll put you on silent hold.”

  Tom checked his watch. Andrew’s voice ended the silence three minutes and forty seconds later.

  “Tom, couldn’t this have waited? I’m due at the Palace in less than an hour. I’m just preparing for it.”

  “Not in a meeting then?”

  “No, but Shirley said what I told her to say, so don’t get snotty with her. So what’s important enough to upstage the reigning monarch of our country?”

  “Well, let’s see if I can think of something. Oh, I know, what about the deaths on Alpha?”

  “What about them? That’s old news, isn’t it? Unless we’ve had some more.”

  “It’s not old news, actually!” Tom erupted. “Not to me, it isn’t. I only found out a few hours ago. Two days after it happened!”

  “And? What’s your point?” Andrew exploded back. “Is that what can’t wait? Someone in your department fails to let you know what’s going on, and you have to run to the PM. Thank goodness I’ve got nothing to do right now. I’ll get onto it right away!”

  “Right, Andrew,” Tom said, regaining his composure. “Point taken. That is not what I want you to do. It’s just that I arrived here this morning to find out that just about everyone in the country knew about this but me. Pretty embarrassing, to say the least. Humiliating, in fact. Just trying to find out what went wrong and I thought I’d start with the guy who knows everything.” It was said with humour, rather than sarcasm.

  “Okay, just a minute,” Andrew said. “Shirley, get on to HRH and tell her the meeting’s back on again.”

  Tom allowed himself a brief chuckle. “It’s not good, though, is it? Something like this happening just a few days after …”

  “What isn’t good?” Andrew interrupted. “The fact that somebody died on Alpha?”

  “Yes, but the circumstances … I’ve just been out there and …”

  “You’ve what?!”

  “I’ve been out to Alpha to see the damage. I thought as I was at Lochshore …”

  “For Christ’s sake, Tom! What do you think you’ve achieved by doing that? Are you planning to do that every time someone dies? If so, you’d better move up there permanently. We’re putting eight hundred of the bastards on that platform, and what do you think their average life expectancy’s going to be? Two, three years?”

  “Jesus,” Tom said. “Do you genuinely think that’s all the time they’ll have? We’ve never discussed it in those terms before.”

  “Listen, Tom. If they’re lucky it’ll be only two years or so. They’re not there to learn a trade or get experience of the great outdoors. So what’s the big deal? It was you who used the words – ‘we need to be prepared to sacrifice part of a generation for the long term good’. That was way back at the very conception of the NJR, possibly even before then. And I said it was fantasy, remember? You must have gone over the scenarios when you worked through this thing. We are not all going to fall apart every time someone dies on Alpha. That’s what’s supposed to happen. We put them there to die!”

  Tom took a few moments.

  “Look, Andrew, I’d better come back tomorrow. Mags will have had a couple of days. She’ll understand.”

  “Tom, I absolutely insist that you don’t change your plans. Haven’t you heard a word I’ve been saying? What has happened on Alpha is the norm. The new norm, I admit, but the norm all the same. This is what it’s going to be like; what we have accepted. Hang on a minute…”

  Tom could hear keys clicking on a keyboard. When Andrew spoke again, he was obviously reading from his screen. “‘It is only natural that we should feel sympathy for the ones who have fa
llen by the wayside’ – blah, blah, blah – ‘the country gave this Government a clear mandate twenty-one months ago when it elected us on the promise of reclaiming all localities for the benefit of their communities’. Any of this sound familiar? Here’s the really good stuff – ‘there would be pain – we made that very clear – in order to achieve this and we would need to be strong when that pain manifested itself in ours and other people’s suffering. We, this Government, this House and this country, have kept faith with that concept in pursuit of our collective vision of the future. So let there be compassion’ – like that, do you? – ‘but no shame; let there be some sorrow, but much rejoicing; let there be awareness of the sacrifice, but no deflection from the goal. And, most of all, let there be no turning back’” Andrew paused, then, “Great speech, don’t you think? Can’t for the life of me remember who made it.”

  Tom remained silent.

  “Are you still there?”

  “Yes,” said Tom. “And you’re right; that was a great speech.”

  Andrew snorted a laugh.

  “So get yourself off to wherever you’ve planned to take Maggie – or where she’s planned to take you, if what Jenny tells me is correct. You can sort out the communication cock-up when you get back. In the meantime, we take this seamlessly in our stride. The least fuss the better. And we will not be releasing to the press that you went out sightseeing in the Atlantic. Understood?”

  “Understood.”

  “I just wish you hadn’t, Tom.”

  *

  “Just to let you know,” Andrew said when he was put through to voicemail, “I’ve just talked to Brown. He’s pretty mad about being circumvented in the communication, but it seems it was a good decision. God knows what he would have made of it. He talks about what’s happened as if it’s a major disaster, like it’s a real shame these guys have to suffer at all. I don’t know whether this is Maggie’s influence or what. But he needs watching, closely. Whether we like it or not, for the time being anyway, he can still swing public opinion as easy as rocking a cradle. If he says the wrong thing we could have another bloody Dunkirk out there.”

  *

  “Sorry about that,” Tom said, joining the group in the meeting room. The table had been cleared of laptops and papers to accommodate a cold banquet plus bottles of wine and jugs of fruit juice and iced water.

  “Wow, that looks good.”

  Matty and James were already circulating with coffee and tea. Matty raised his pot, catching Tom’s eye.

  “Thanks, Matty.”

  Tom looked towards Gordon.

  “Should we review the agenda – again,” he said, “to make sure we get through everything? Am I right in assuming we are all okay until tomorrow lunchtime? If not, then I’m the one who’s twisted the schedule out of shape, so if anyone was planning to leave this evening, or earlier tomorrow, then please don’t change your plans.”

  “I think we’re all here for the duration,” Gordon replied, looking round and acknowledging the nods from the group. “Do we need to discus this morning before we move on? I think we’ve all been very moved by what we’ve seen, and if anyone wants to comment on it, then it’s probably better now so it’s not preying on their mind as we cover the rest of the agenda.”

  He made a point of not looking directly at Eleanor, but it was she who spoke anyway.

  “Not from my point of view,” she said, “if I was the one you had in mind, Gordon. As you all know, I have been an opponent of the NJR all along, but it is here and working and, as Tom said, it is what the majority of people want. I think we need to move on – not just with the agenda, but with the understanding that Alpha is a bad place and it’s that by design. Every day on the platform will be absolute hell for those on it. We just have to get our minds round that. ‘Horror on Alpha’, as the Daily Record put it this morning, is not news, it’s just fact.”

  *

  “Look,” Mags said, “before you say anything, I’ve heard about the deaths. I am sorry about what has happened, but the subject is not for discussion as far as I’m concerned. We can talk about it next week if you want to, but I’d rather just leave it. This is the new reality, and if you and I are going to move forward, we have to accept what we can’t change.”

  Tom was silent for a moment.

  “It’s a good job you’re not here right now,” he said. “I just might squeeze you to death.”

  “You could try, big boy, but I’m no push-over, you know.”

  “So what sort of a day did …”

  “Absolutely brilliant! And guess where I’ve been.”

  “Oban, I expect …”

  “No, not Oban; guess again.”

  “Mull?”

  “Oh, you’re not supposed to guess right!” said Mags. “Okay, then, but where on Mull, do you think?”

  “I’m not saying in case I guess right again.”

  “Well, back to the cottage where I stayed thirty-five years ago. There, what do you think of that?”

  “Gardener’s Cottage?” said Tom. “Wow, I bet that was great.”

  “And we went there on a train! I can’t wait to tell you all about it – in real time, probably.”

  “Well, you’ll have to wait, I’m afraid, my darling. I’ve got less than twenty minutes to shower and change for dinner. But I really do want to hear about it.”

  “Okay, until tomorrow then. I’ve had a fantastic time, Tom-Tom. I feel really guilty, actually. I bet your day’s been absolute … shite.”

  “Succinctly put, and one hundred percent accurate. But that’s for another world. For the next few days it’s just you, me and the sheepskin. And I promise you can then tell me absolutely everything about today – including what Cheryl was wearing,” he added.

  “Just watch it, you,” said Mags.

  They both laughed.

  “Love you,” said Tom.

  “Love you, too.”

  *

  The Alpha incident was not mentioned again. The atmosphere at dinner was relaxed and enjoyable; all business put to one side.

  “That was absolutely excellent, Gordon,” said Tom, as they finished the meal.

  “Thank you, although I feel I must apologise for the repeat of the starter and dessert …”

  “Not at all, that was the highlight – the two highlights – for me. Take this down, Matty – ‘the Home Secretary respectfully requests that a year’s supply of haggis and clooty dumpling be sent to his house with immediate effect’. That should do it.”

  Gordon laughed. “Well, I hope you’ll also approve of some more local produce I have lined up.” He went across to the long sideboard at the end of the room and took out a bottle each of Oban and Tobermory single malts.

  The evening ended with an impromptu sing-a-long of traditional Scottish songs. Tom’s participation was somewhat limited, but he observed with amusement as the others became involved with each new song in a sort of ‘sing-off’. They all started loudly with the better-known part and then one by one dropped by the wayside as the song progressed into greater obscurity, until just a single voice remained to deliver the final verse or verses.

  Although no-one was officially scoring, Tom reckoned it was a two-way tie between Donny and Calum for first place. There was applause all round as he announced the result and presented each with their medal – one of the pewter coasters which resided in a stack on the same sideboard.

  The drinks, singing, applause and general laughter reflected the overall good mood of the gathering – albeit assisted by the flow of malt whisky – but left each one feeling slightly guilty in the early hours when they turned in to bed, and more than slightly fragile the following morning when they turned up for the final session.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Week 2; Thursday, 2 April…

  “Thank you, Calum. Excellent tour,” said Tom, shaking the Chief Prison Officer’s hand before they all went back to the meeting room. “The whole place does you a lot of credit. When do you think you’ll get PTV
1 back in service?”

  “Shouldn’t be too long. Seven to ten days, they tell me. Well in time for the next group in six weeks time. Although we’ll be reviewing the design of the rails before then to avoid the same thing happening again. And the toilet facilities as well,” he added. “I assume you heard about our dirty protest.”

  Tom nodded. “I’m sure you’ll get it right. Very impressive.”

  “Thank you, Home Secretary.”

  *

  The meeting concluded on time at noon. After handshakes all round, and a polite kiss from Tom on Eleanor’s cheek, James again loaded his charges into the Range Rover, including Chuck – who no-one had seen since they arrived nearly two days ago – and set off for North Connel.

  Already approaching the helipad from the opposite direction, Mags and Cheryl were gushing all over John Bramham as he drove them to their rendezvous.

  “It’s been absolutely amazing, John,” said Mags. “We really can’t thank you enough. The tour of the Castle and the cottage … well, it was just … brilliant. Although I guess it meant more to me than Cheryl and Simon …?”

  “Not at all,” said Cheryl. “It was all superb. If this is work I’m going to get as much overtime as I can,” she added.

  They all laughed and Simon nodded his agreement.

  Tom kissed Mags as they all met at the helipad. He gave Cheryl a gentle peck on the cheek, and shook hands with John and Simon.

  “My wife’s had far too good a time,” he said, solemnly, to John. “You’ll be hearing from me.”

  “I hope so,” John replied. “You said something about definitely staying here yourself next time.”