Blood Roots: Are the roots strong enough to save the pandemic survivors? (22 page)

From his position at the head of the refectory table, Mark surveyed the Great Hall. The lunch dishes had been cleared away and the younger children had been sent out to play. Mark had counted the children as they had filed out — twenty-five including the babies and toddlers in buggies.

No one had been told where to sit, but the families stayed together. Opposite Mark, at the other end of the table, Paul sat in Aunt Margaret’s wheelchair. Mark was determined to involve his brother in the meeting despite his slurred speech. On either side of Paul sat his daughters, Cheryl and Bridget, with Ruben, Harry and Mary-Claire; then came the Steeds: Duncan, Jennifer, Kimberley and Rebecca, Fergus and Jessica. There was a significant space between them and the remainder of the Steed family — Virginia and her daughters. They had not yet been accepted back into the Steed fold. They wanted to be and had, as Mark suggested, exchanged their designer dresses for the drab grey tunics previously issued by Nigel. In contrast, most
others in the Great Hall had taken the opportunity to rid themselves of the symbol that more than any other had signified their servitude. They wore a weird assortment of colourful clothing.

Despite the drab tunics, combing their hair straight and removing their make-up, there was no disguising Virginia and her daughters’ beauty. Their looks had not gone unnoticed by Rick, who was sitting alongside them. Julie, Roger and Louise had joined him. The Americans had been the only members of the community to show the Steed outcasts any civility during the preceding hours.

Then came Susan and Theresa, the only adults apart from Jessica who remained from the Morgan branch of the Chatfield family. And finally, clustered around Mark, were his own family: Anne, Steven, Penny, Jane, Zach, Nicole and Luke — the sole adult survivor of the Dalton family, who seemed to have attached himself to Mark’s kin.

Mark tapped his knuckles lightly on the table. The subdued chatter died immediately and all eyes turned in his direction. ‘I get the feeling I’ve been elected chairman,’ he said. No one disagreed. ‘I have drawn up a short agenda. Where necessary I will call for a vote. I propose that everyone above the age of fourteen will have the right to vote at this meeting.’

‘Fourteen’s too young.’ The challenge came from Rick.

Mark felt compelled to justify his decision. ‘It seems to me that in the post-pandemic world teenagers are called upon to play a far greater role than was required of them previously. They are no longer cosseted by indulgent parents. They are expected to work and to contribute. I feel that given the expectation we now hold of them, they should have a say in how their lives are run.

‘I had considered suggesting an even lower age for voting. So I’ll put it to the vote, starting with a voting age of twelve and move up from there. As soon as there is a majority, that will be the voting age adopted. All those in favour of a voting age of twelve?’

Zach, Nicole, Ruben, Harry and Mary-Claire’s hands shot up.

‘Thirteen?’

One additional hand was raised — Luke’s.

‘Fourteen?’

There was a substantial majority.

‘The voting age will be fourteen,’ he proclaimed.

Mark noticed the look of disappointment on Nicole’s face. He still had not forgiven her for becoming pregnant. He was so angry that he barely spoke to her. However, he did feel sorry for her. In a few months’ time she would be a mother. ‘I propose,’ he continued, ‘that teenagers who do not have the right to vote will have the right to speak at these meetings and present their point of view. All those in favour?’

Again there was a substantial majority, even after disallowing Nicole, Ruben and Mary-Claire’s raised hands.

‘Passed,’ Mark said. He was pleased with the way things were going. ‘What I suggest now is that we elect a temporary committee of, say, three members including a chairman to hold office for the next three months. It will be the temporary committee’s task to administer Haver. At the end of that period we will have an election for an administrative committee of, say, five members including a chairman, who will serve for a period of three years.’

‘Why not go for the full administrative committee straight away?’ Fergus asked.

‘We have new people at Haver — our relatives from America for example,’ he said pointing down the table, ‘and Jane, whom many of you have also never met before. Three months will give us all time to get to know one another and find out what skills and qualities each candidate has to offer.’

‘In other words, in three months’ time we can have a proper presidential election,’ Rick said.

‘Well, I’m not so sure about a presidential election, but certainly an agreed form of democratic election with everyone who wishes to able to stand for office.’

‘I’ll be standing for the Monster Raving Loony Party,’ Harry announced.

‘You’ll be a natural,’ Steven said. It was enough to lighten the moment.

‘We Americans are hardly going to get a look-in for the temporary
administration though, are we?’ Rick complained when the laughter had died down.

‘Neither should we,’ Roger said. His voice was calm and measured. ‘Mark and these folks know how Haver works. Best leave it to them for now.’

Mark was grateful for Roger’s contribution; it saved him having to lock horns with Rick yet again. He quickly moved on. ‘We’ll now have a thirty-minute break. When we return we’ll hold a secret ballot. Each person entitled to vote will write their three choices for the committee on a piece of paper. The person with the most votes will be chairman. The two people with the next highest number of votes will form the remainder of the committee. All those in favour?’ Only one eligible hand remained down — Rick’s. ‘Roger, would you be prepared to administer the vote?’ Mark asked.

Roger nodded. ‘Perhaps with Jane and Anne adjudicating?’ he suggested. The two women registered their agreement.

‘After the vote,’ Mark continued, ‘we’ll have a general discussion about the future of Haver, and people can put forward suggestions and ideas for the committee to consider.’ He looked at his watch. ‘We’ll reconvene at three o’clock.’

Roger rose to his feet. ‘The result of the vote,’ he began. ‘Chairman — by a substantial majority — Mark.’ There was a round of applause. ‘The other two members elected to the committee are Duncan and Theresa.’ Mark was pleased Theresa had been elected; she had good organising skills. He wasn’t so sure about Duncan.

‘Thank you for your vote of confidence,’ Mark said. ‘I wish it to be known now that I will not be standing for office in three months’ time.’

‘But surely you shouldn’t be making that decision now,’ Anne challenged.

Mark shook his head. ‘I want to feel free to put forward suggestions and make unpopular decisions now without there being any political considerations.’

‘Suggestions such as what?’ Rick challenged. Mark was annoyed
and his face showed it. He did want to put forward a radical idea, but he would rather have had time to lead into it. Rick had put him on the spot.

‘As I look around the Great Hall, it is clear to me that we have entered a new phase. There are twenty-eight of us seated at this table, and twenty-five children and babies playing outside. It is also obvious — looking around the table — that Roger is going to have his hands full delivering babies over the next few months. The Chatfield family has successfully survived the pandemic. Our future is assured.’

‘Unless,’ Jennifer interrupted, ‘another Nigel comes along.’

‘Or Jasper escapes,’ Duncan added. ‘Which begs the question, why are we taking any chances with the Chatfield boys? Luke solved the problem of Damian. Let’s deal to the other two.’

Agreement with Duncan’s proposal echoed around the room.

Mark took control again. ‘I’ll come back to the Chatfield boys shortly. But there’s an obvious way to eliminate the threat, to a large extent at least, of any another dictator taking over the community.’

‘So what’s your big idea?’ Rick snorted.

‘I think the time has come,’ Mark said, looking up and down the length of the table, ‘to consider leaving Haver.’

‘Leave Haver!’

The words seemed to escape from everyone’s lips in a collective sigh.

Mark could not help but see the irony of the situation. The threat of starvation had forced his relatives to move to Haver, where Nigel had enslaved and terrorised them. Following Nigel’s overthrow they had been ruled by Diana who, despite the introduction of some freedoms, had become dictatorial and autocratic. Finally, for the past twenty-six months they had been terrorised by Jasper and his brothers and lorded over by Virginia and her daughters. Haver had brought them nothing but misery. They had been prisoners. Now they were reluctant to leave. They had, like prisoners everywhere, become institutionalised.

‘I think the time has come,’ he said again, ‘to consider moving from Haver, to settle in Sevenoaks and the surrounding villages.’

‘What’s the advantage of that?’ Rick disputed. ‘This place looks just swell from what I’ve seen, particularly the staterooms.’

‘The staterooms belong to the English,’ Duncan said quickly. ‘We’ve been the ones looking after them for the last few years.’

‘The Morgans have been the ones looking after them,’ Theresa corrected.

‘I believe,’ Mark continued, intent on bringing the discussion back on track, ‘that Haver served us well immediately after the pandemic. The fact it had medieval water, sewerage and kitchen systems and was able to function without electricity made it a sensible place to live. But we’ve passed survival mode now.

‘I’m simply suggesting that those who want to consider moving away from Haver and perhaps adopting a village rather than a feudal lifestyle, should have the choice.’

‘But as you say, Haver has water and sewerage systems,’ Jennifer pointed out. ‘None of those services are functioning in Sevenoaks or the villages.’

Steven decided to speak up. ‘We didn’t have the advantages offered by Haver at Gulf Harbour, but it wasn’t too difficult to install septic tank systems and collect rainwater from the roofs of our houses. And if you were using rainwater rather than water from the reservoir it would be pure and you wouldn’t need to brew beer.’

‘Is water rather than beer supposed to be an advantage?’ Duncan quipped.

‘Well at least we won’t have any trouble collecting rainwater!’ Susan joked.

‘What I don’t understand,’ Rick contested, ‘is you’ve got a perfectly good set-up here at Haver. Why break up the community?’

‘I know it’s a big house, but even so we’re all living cheek by jowl. I don’t think humans are meant to live crammed together.’

Rick contradicted him. ‘That’s the natural progression of things. People migrated from the countryside to villages, from villages to towns, and from towns to cities.’

‘And where were all the problems, pre-pandemic?’ Mark demanded.
‘Where were the murders, where were the drug problems, where was social unrest and crime at its worst?’ He answered his own question. ‘In the cities, where people were crammed together.

‘Anyway, this is not a decision for today. It’s something to think about over the next few weeks. Leaving Haver would be an option for those wishing to consider it.’

‘It would certainly be difficult for anyone to grab control in the way Jasper did if we spread out,’ Fergus said.

Mark was pleased with Fergus’s observation. The debate had started. He wasn’t so pleased with the next question.

‘So what about Jasper and Greg?’ Susan asked.

Paul struggled to speak, and became agitated when he failed. Cheryl listened carefully to her father’s slurred words and interpreted. ‘Dad says we should execute them and get it out of the way.’

There was a round of ‘Hear, hear.’

‘I don’t think we need to make a decision on the Chatfield bothers today,’ Mark said.

‘Why not?’ Duncan demanded.

‘We need their legs. Unless anyone else is volunteering for treadmill duty?’

‘Sounds from what I’ve heard they should be executed right away,’ Rick championed.

There was another chorus of ‘Hear, hear’. Mark felt himself being backed into a corner. ‘We need them until we can rig up some other means of power generation. I would like to suggest we delay any decisions about the Chatfield brothers for a further month.’

‘You’re just procrastinating. Execute them now,’ Rick challenged.

Mark rounded on him angrily. ‘This is not your fight. You were not a person wronged by either Jasper or Greg. Have you ever witnessed an execution?’ Rick did not reply. ‘Well, the people here have. You might think it’ll be an interesting spectacle but I’m sure that those here who have seen an execution don’t. It’s a terrible thing, irrespective of who is being executed. So I am saying that the committee should have the chance to discuss the matter and come up with a plan of action. I’d like a show of hands: if anyone
here wants to witness Greg and Jasper’s execution now, and is also prepared to swing the axe, put up your hand.’

Not a single hand was raised.

‘Meeting closed,’ Mark said.

The passion of his words and the abruptness with which he closed the meeting surprised them all. It also surprised him. He continued more gently. ‘The committee will now meet and draw up temporary work schedules. In the meantime, you all know what needs to be done to keep this place running, so please do what you feel is necessary for the good of the community.’

‘And if anyone needs a doctor,’ Roger said, rising to his feet, ‘my surgery will be open at the old Haver Trust Coffee Shop in ten minutes’ time.’

Once again Mark welcomed Roger’s contribution. Why couldn’t Rick be more like him?

Duncan and Theresa joined Mark at the end of the refectory table. Mark noticed the excited babble of conversation as small groups wandered away. There was talk about visiting Sevenoaks for a look around.

‘I must see the Doctor about my knees,’ Susan was saying to Cheryl as she passed by.

Louise, Anne and Julie came up. ‘What can we do to help?’ Anne asked. Mark looked at Duncan and Theresa.

‘I’m sure Cheryl could do with some help in the garden, what with Paul being ill,’ Duncan replied.