Blood Line: What if your family was the last left alive? (The Blood Line Trilogy Book 1)

by Michael Green

  ‘His name?’

  ‘Your father, Johnnie, wasn’t the eldest child. We had an older brother called William. He was the black sheep of the family. Went to sea when he was thirteen as a cabin boy. He came home on leave when he was sixteen and put the girl next door in the family way.

  ‘Of course your grandmother insisted he marry her, but the day before the wedding he ran away. The poor girl couldn’t stand the shame and killed herself and the baby. Your grandmother never forgave him. He was never mentioned again, and his name was erased from the family records.’

  ‘What happened to him?’

  ‘Stayed at sea — died at sea, I shouldn’t wonder. He was a wrong ’un — a girl in every port — and he used to spread it around. Your grandmother had at least two begging letters from families asking for support of the children he’d fathered.’

  Mark’s heart quickened. ‘Do you remember where those letters came from?’

  Aunt Margaret thought for a minute. ‘One was from Australia. Brisbane, I think — yes, I’m sure it was Brisbane.’

  ‘And the other letter?’

  ‘America somewhere. San Francisco, I think. Or was it San Diego?’ Aunt Margaret seemed to be searching the recesses of her mind. ‘No, I’m not sure, but it was definitely San something.’

  ‘Were there any other letters?’

  ‘Not that I was ever told about. But, as I said dear, he was a wrong ’un. God knows how many children he fathered around the world.’

  Before Mark could dig deeper, the clock above Cromwell’s Tower chimed, announcing dinner. Mark folded the chart and put it in his pocket. He would update it to include Uncle William later.

  As Mark wheeled Aunt Margaret towards the Great Hall, his mind was racing. He was disappointed he hadn’t seen Allison, but in other ways this had been a momentous day. He would tell Steven the news after dinner — that there was a strong possibility other members of the Chatfield dynasty were scattered around the world. That opened up new possibilities for the gene pool.

  48

  Mark wheeled Aunt Margaret into the Great Hall and manoeuvred her wheelchair to its customary place at the Dalton end of the refectory table. Then he made his way to his own seat. There was no sign of Steven. Since talking wasn’t allowed before the arrival of His Lordship, he caught Paul’s eye and nodded towards the empty place at the table. Paul shrugged his shoulders.

  Mark should have suspected something was wrong as soon as the Chatfield family arrived. There was a spring in their step, a cockiness about their manner. As soon as Nigel indicated they could be seated, Mark anxiously asked Cheryl and Bridget if they had seen Steven. Neither had.

  ‘Probably still working in the staterooms,’ Paul suggested.

  Mark wasn’t satisfied. ‘All the Chatfields are here. They wouldn’t leave Steven wandering around by himself.’ He was becoming increasing concerned.

  He glanced up at the Minstrel Gallery and his heart sank. Damian was on guard duty, sitting behind a machine gun. That could only mean the Chatfield family were expecting trouble.

  At the end of the meal, Greg and Miles left the Great Hall.

  ‘Well,’ Nigel said, rising to his feet. The chatter in the hall died down immediately. ‘So you think you’re smart, trying to put one over me?’ It was obvious no one had any idea what he was talking about. ‘I will not tolerate disobedience,’ he yelled, his face reddening with anger. ‘You will all pay for this outrage.’ Still the family members were mystified; they looked at one another, searching for answers. ‘However, before I deal with you rabble, I’ll deal with the main culprit. Bring in the prisoner.’

  Miles and Greg led Steven into the room. The brothers were taking no chances; Steven’s hands were tied behind his back. Nigel called for his evidence box, which Jasper collected and placed on the table. Then, with all eyes on him, Nigel opened the box and lifted up a bunch of keys.

  ‘Did you make these keys?’ Nigel asked Steven.

  There was no point in denying the fact; he’d already admitted it. ‘I did.’

  ‘And did you tamper with the treadmill?’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘Who helped you?’

  ‘Nobody helped me,’ Steven said, adding with apparent contempt, ‘Nobody else here has the skills to help me.’ He was relieved by the question; obviously Nigel didn’t know of Fergus’s involvement.

  ‘And who else benefited from your modifications?’

  ‘Only me.’

  ‘Liar,’ Nigel bellowed. ‘I know that at least one other family was using your hand-wheel.’

  Rather than intimidating him, these words confirmed Steven’s suspicion that Nigel knew only part of the story.

  ‘Which other family was using my invention?’ Steven demanded, apparently indignant that others had been taking advantage of his work.

  ‘I’ll ask the questions!’ Nigel bellowed.

  ‘If I’d known anyone else was using my invention I would have collected a fee,’ Steven muttered.

  Nigel must have sensed he was going to get no further with this line of questioning. He had a confession. ‘Brand him,’ he said abruptly, eager to ensure Steven was not given the opportunity to make any further smart comments.

  Jasper stood up, walked to the fireplace and retrieved the number two iron from the embers of the fire. Even in their moment of triumph the Chatfield family were displaying their weakness. Nigel no longer felt confident about demanding that a member of the culprit’s family carry out the branding. He had reverted to his earlier practice of having one of his sons carry out the punishment.

  The red-hot iron burnt into Steven’s flesh; he gritted his teeth and suppressed his urge to scream. As his flesh burned he heard Nigel say, ‘The treadmill will now be operated again twenty-four hours a day.’

  The branding done, Miles and Greg marched Steven out and led him across Flag Court towards the Punishment Room.

  ‘As for the rest of you,’ Nigel sneered, once Steven had left, ‘there will be no more committee meetings, and no more games evenings.’ There was a ripple of discontent. ‘Silence!’ he screamed. ‘Do you think I didn’t know those things were going on? Of course I knew about them. Moreover, there are to be no more debates and no more school lessons. The children of peasants don’t need education. You are here to work. That is the only reason for your existence.’

  Having delivered his edict, Nigel turned and, followed by Jasper, left the Great Hall. Allison stood for a few seconds, white-faced, looking down at Mark. Holding back her tears, she turned and followed Nigel.

  As the families left the Great Hall, their despondency matched the dejection that had accompanied Nigel’s sabotage of their Christmas celebrations two-and-a-half years earlier.

  Mark alone walked quickly. He hurried across Flag Court to see Steven, who was already on the treadmill. ‘You all right, son?’ he asked as he walked in.

  ‘What do you think? That bastard really dug it in.’

  Steven was consumed by anger. He was driving the treadmill faster than it had ever been driven before.

  ‘Don’t go so fast,’ Mark cautioned. ‘You don’t want it to look too easy.’

  Steven slowed down. ‘You’re right. They haven’t twigged to the bearings at the top of the shaft, or the modifications to the buckets. Since Nigel has decreed the treadmill must be operated twenty-four hours a day, I’ll cut holes in a few more buckets. There’s no point in lifting more water than we need.’

  ‘You’ll do nothing of the sort,’ Mark said forcefully. Then he added more softly, ‘Steven, you can’t afford another strike.’

  There was silence as they both considered the implications of a third strike.

  ‘I wonder who the spy is,’ Steven said bitterly after a few moments.

  ‘Whoever she is, she’s the very lowest form of life. Not only did she get you a second strike, she lost the benefits of your modifications for her own family.’

  ‘Unless it was one of the Morgan girls. They haven’t done a
ny treadmill duty for weeks,’ Steven said, before adding quickly, ‘It wasn’t Penny.’

  ‘The Morgan girls didn’t know.’

  ‘It’s got to be a member of the committee, or someone they told. You’d better have it out with them at your meeting tomorrow night.’

  ‘There won’t be any more committee meetings. Nigel has banned the committee, the games, the societies, the school lessons, everything.’

  Steven thumped the wheel angrily with his fist as he walked up the rungs. ‘So, whoever this low-life spy is, they’ve cost the community all the gains we’ve made. We’ve lost everything. We should leave Haver as soon as we can.’

  ‘Let me see what I can retrieve. You keep your nose clean while I work in the background. I still think there’s a chance we can bring Nigel down.’

  ‘If you get caught you’ll be charged with sedition. Then we’ll both have two strikes.’

  ‘If we both get two strikes, we’ll leave immediately. Fair enough?’

  ‘Fair enough, but if we go, Penny and Lee must come too.’

  ‘Assuming Penny will leave.’

  ‘She’ll leave,’ Steven said confidently. ‘And I expect you’ll want to take Allison?’

  ‘What makes you say that?’

  ‘Do you think I’m blind? I can see the way you look at her. You’re like a lovesick teenager. You’d better take care Nigel doesn’t notice. Knocking off His Lordship’s wife might be viewed as a capital offence — for both of you.’

  The words sent a chill down Mark’s spine. ‘I’m going to get some shut-eye,’ he said, uneasy at the direction the conversation was taking. ‘I’ll relieve you at two-thirty.’

  The next day Mark removed the escape equipment from the ceiling of Steven’s bedroom and hid it in the attic further along the wing. His next priority was to rebuild the committee’s confidence. He decided to start with Duncan.

  ‘We have to talk,’ he said to Duncan, as they made their way back to their quarters after the evening meal.

  ‘It wasn’t me,’ Duncan said defensively.

  ‘If I thought it was you, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.’

  ‘You heard Nigel’s edict. Committee meetings are banned.’

  ‘I’m not asking for a committee meeting — just a quiet chat.’

  ‘I’m not sure …’

  ‘Look, for heaven’s sake, we can’t just let things go back to the way they were before.’

  ‘All right,’ Duncan agreed after further consideration. ‘Let’s meet in the attic room above my bedroom. Say ten o’clock this evening. Don’t tell anyone else,’ he added quickly.

  The attic room that Duncan had chosen for their meeting looked out over Lawn Court. They slumped down in two old armchairs beneath the window and looked out. It was dark; they could see the glow of the brazier on top of the West Tower where one of the Chatfield brothers was on guard duty. The roofs were damp and rain splattered against the windowpanes; the forlorn scene matched their mood.

  ‘I want to put my cards on the table,’ Mark said. ‘There are only two options as far as Steven and I are concerned. Either things change here, or we go back to New Zealand.’

  ‘Both would seem impossible to me,’ Duncan said thoughtfully.

  ‘Difficult maybe, but not impossible.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘We believe we can get out of here and make our way back to our yacht. We’ve left her provisioned and ready to sail.’

  ‘Getting out of this place without getting caught is difficult enough.’

  ‘We think we know how to get away without being detected.’

  ‘Better not tell me for now.’

  Mark was relieved his cousin hadn’t asked. He’d already decided the escape plans would remain secret for the present. ‘If we go, we’ll offer a few people the chance to come with us.’

  ‘People could be reluctant to leave the park; remember what happened to Mathew.’

  ‘We’ve got room for only eight, and we’ll only offer places to those who have a single strike or less, so if anyone got caught the worst that could happen to them would be a second strike.’

  ‘Taking eight people away, assuming you could find eight people who wanted to go, would leave a big hole here.’

  ‘I agree. That’s why we’d rather see Nigel brought down and democracy established at Haver.’

  ‘Such talk is sedition,’ Duncan whispered. Despite the safety of their meeting place, Mark could hear the terror in Duncan’s voice.

  ‘I know there’s a risk, but it’s got to be worth it. Look how much better life became even with the few changes the committee managed to establish over the last few months.’

  ‘I’m beginning to wish we hadn’t formed the committee at all. Before the clubs were in place people accepted their lot. Now they’re missing them, and everything seems worse.’

  ‘But it doesn’t have to be like that,’ Mark insisted. ‘Just imagine what Haver could be like if we had a democracy. We’d have a proper school. We’d use the skills people possess rather than Nigel’s cockeyed “family task” allocation system. The fields and gardens would become more productive, leaving more time for leisure.’

  ‘Sounds like El Dorado,’ Duncan sighed.

  ‘It’s our right,’ Mark persisted, ‘and Nigel doesn’t have the prerogative to deprive us of our rights. We need to stand up for ourselves and demand a decent society, where everyone is equal and everyone has a say.’

  ‘They’ve got the guns.’

  ‘There’s only four of them. We must be able to take control, one way or the other.’

  ‘I doubt it’s possible without risking a massacre.’

  ‘We have to find a way,’ Mark insisted, the first signs of anger showing in his voice, ‘but first things first. We have to make sure all the gains made over the last few months aren’t lost.’

  ‘What do you suggest on that front?’ Duncan asked, obviously relieved that the subject of deposing Nigel had been dropped.

  ‘Well, until we’ve uncovered the spy we can’t risk committee meetings.’

  ‘You’re certainly right there.’

  ‘So, what I’m suggesting is that you and I meet on a regular basis and that each of us in turn talks directly with a representative of one of the other two families.’

  ‘It’s still dicey.’

  ‘We’ve got to be prepared to take some risks. If we end up with the families all fighting among themselves again, we’ll have played right into Nigel’s hands. If we can keep the families co-operating, we’ll at least have salvaged something.’

  ‘Maybe, but it’s risky.’

  ‘Look,’ Mark said, his exasperation growing, ‘you choose the family you want to talk to, I’ll talk to the other one. Which family do you trust most?’

  ‘Well, I trust the Dalton brothers.’

  ‘Right then, you talk to Adam or Warren, I’ll look after the Morgans.’ Mark decided to press on, before Duncan could change his mind, ‘Our priority must be to continue scheduling the treadmill.’

  ‘It’ll be difficult convincing the families to co-operate now.’

  ‘The treadmill has to be driven. The Chatfield brothers haven’t noticed the tampering with the buckets or the bearings on the top shaft. It’s not the work it used to be — it’s not worth fighting over as we did in the past.’

  ‘You’re right,’ Duncan conceded after a few moments of staring out the window and fiddling nervously with his beard. ‘I can vouch for the Steeds, you can vouch for the Greys, and I’m pretty sure the Daltons will agree if I put it like that.’

  Mark sighed with relief. All was not lost; as long as there was co-operation between the families there was hope.

  49

  Mark’s prompt action prevented any deterioration in the co-operative spirit between the families. The schedule for the treadmill duty was maintained, and informal contact between the families continued. The knowledge that there was a spy among them worried everybody, and discussions we
re guarded and strained. But at least the families were still talking to one another.

  It seemed incredible that one of their number had reported back to the Chatfields. Not only had Steven been punished, but everyone in the community had paid heavily for the treachery. Fergus had been lucky that neither the spy nor Steven had implicated him, since he also risked a second branding.

  Fergus alone realised the full implication of the fact that he had not been named. Someone had been prepared to sacrifice Steven, but not him. There was someone close to him who harboured a terrible secret, a secret he knew made them vulnerable. He confronted that person when they were alone together, and while they denied responsibility he remained suspicious; from then on he was constantly vigilant.

  The one consolation was that Steven’s work on the bearings, and the reduced weight of water being lifted, remained undetected. There was a further gradual reduction as Mark modified the remaining leather buckets himself.

  Late one evening, Mark invited Steven to his room to help draw up a list of the people who would be invited to join them if the decision to escape from Haver was taken. The list had to be restricted to eight — the maximum number they felt they could squeeze onto Archangel.

  ‘Penny has to be on the list,’ Steven said, ‘and Lee of course; she wouldn’t go without him — and neither would I.’

  Mark nodded. He wondered how Steven would react if Penny decided not to accompany them. It was a problem he would have to face himself if Allison wouldn’t accept a place.

  Steven read his mind. ‘And Allison of course, assuming she’ll leave.’

  ‘I think she’ll come if Charlene and Jessica are on the list.’

  ‘And Jessica won’t leave without Fergus and Tommy.’

  ‘Fergus deserves to be on the list anyway,’ Mark agreed. ‘Given everything he’s done.’

  Steven nodded.

  ‘That gives us five adults so far,’ Mark continued. ‘I think we can ignore the children. We’ll squeeze them in somehow. That leaves room for three more adults, and I think we should plan on three reserves, just in case people higher up the list drop out.’