Outside (25 page)

Chapter Thirty Eight

Riley

*

The Mayor brings the cart to an impressive stop at a jaunty angle by the hedge and we climb out. By now the hubbub of voices is overwhelming and although I can’t yet see anyone it sounds as if we’ve landed in the middle of a huge crowd.

We follow the Mayor through a wooden gate and he leads us down a steep grassy slope. We find ourselves on a wide avenue of leafy horse chestnuts, thronged with people, all chattering excitedly and heading in the same direction. They nod deferentially to the Mayor as he passes by and he tips his tall hat in acknowledgement, greeting each person by name.

Aubrey Rowbotham must be well into his seventies, but he walks like a much younger man, purposefully and upright, threading his way through the crowd. We have some difficulty keeping up with him, constantly distracted by all the sights and sounds, but we manage to keep sight of his peacock-blue hat bobbing along.

Everyone is sporting vividly
-coloured
, homemade clothes and equally outlandish headwear - it appears, in this town, the Mayor’s coat and top hat are not considered an eccentricity. I wonder whether they dress like this every day, or whether it’s just some kind of fancy dress for the fair. I feel drab and underdressed by comparison.

Most people are carrying baskets or coarsely-woven picnic hampers and some have bright rugs slung over their arms. The heat of the day ensures a pervading smell of body
odour, but this is offset by the scent of
freshly cut grass - not too bad compared with the world-class stench of the Charminster Compound.

I realise that all the townsfolk are staring curiously at us as we pass, gawking at our clothes and nudging each other, whispering or giggling in our wake. But they appear to be friendly enough and the girls especially, seem to be very taken with Luc. I feel a new sensation - a small spurt of green jealousy - as I see him smile at a particularly pretty blonde, who’s shamelessly eying him up. She’s pulled ahead by an older man who I’m guessing is her father. He says some stern words to her and she soon stops smiling.

Up ahead, I see another unexpected sight - a wonderful creamy
-coloured
castle, perched on a low hill, with a solid dark grey wall around its base. The crowd suddenly comes to a stop and we finally manage to catch up with the Mayor. Without any warning, Mayor Aubrey Rowbotham takes hold of my arm and propels me forward as the crowd parts to let us through. I see what’s caused our abrupt halt - a small red iron bridge which only allows for two abreast. As we cross, I stare down at the dark green river below us, hiding beneath a mess of tangled reeds.

We step off the bridge into a huge field where the fair is being held. The stalls, rides and events are all set up here, in the shadow of the large storybook castle.

‘I must dash off to resume my judgely duties,’ says the Mayor. ‘I’ll meet you in the tea tent at 4pm for afternoon tea. Enjoy yourselves. Any problems, find Marcia in the VIP tent by the show jumping arena. She knows you’re here.’

And with that, he strides off into the crowd, until all we see is the iridescent tip of his top hat.

To our left is a fenced-off shooting range, but instead of guns, the competitors are wielding huge crossbows. The bright cloth targets are wrapped around large wooden discs propped up on stands, under five tall sycamore trees. Luc grins at me and we wander over to watch.

As far as I can tell, each competitor hands over some kind of token - a piece of fruit, a small cake, or the like - as their entrance stake which goes into a large basket. Then the person is handed a crossbow and half-a-dozen or so arrows, with which they have to try and hit the red inner ring. If they manage it, they go through to the next round, if not, they’re out of the competition. Most of the entrants hit the blue or white outer rings, prompting good-natured jeers from the onlookers. I guess the overall competition winner will receive the basket of goodies. A young boy, who’s helping his father man the stall, notices Luc and me and tries to get Luc to enter.

‘Afraid of embarrassing yourself in front of the young lady,’ says the boy’s father.

‘Something like that,’ replies Luc.

‘Come on in, I’ll show you how it’s done. Let you have a few practice goes.’

Luc climbs over the fence amidst a few rowdy cheers. He takes a silver bit out of his pocket and passes it to the man.

‘Very generous. That’ll get you a few goes.’

His first practice shots go wildly out and strike the grass in front of the target, but as he gets a feel for the crossbow, he starts hitting the cloth. He looks disappointed that he hasn’t hit the inner ring and his last shot lands just a
millimetre
from the red. Everyone ‘oohs’ in sympathy and Luc clambers back over to join me.

‘That’s harder than it looks. It’s good fun though. Do you want a go?’

‘Maybe later.’ Normally it’s the sort of thing I’d love to do, but we haven’t had any lunch and I’m hungry. I just want to wander around and relax, after our adrenaline-filled morning. ‘Have you got any silver left?’ I ask. ‘I’m starving.’

‘Me too.’ He pulls out a handful of silver bits from his pocket. ‘We’re loaded,’ he grins. It’s the first time he’s smiled in a while and I feel my heart lighten. Maybe things will be okay.

‘Brilliant,’ I reply .‘Let’s go and find some food.’

We head towards an impressive striped marquee. There are wooden tables and chairs outside the tent, with a spit roast, a barbeque, a salad bar and a covered stall piled high with various wrapped sandwiches, cakes and fruit. Inside the marquee, are more tables and chairs but there isn’t a spare seat to be had. In the corner, a long curved bar sells alcohol, juices and smoothies. In the opposite corner, an Irish fiddle band is pumping out energetic tunes and loads of people are dancing.

‘Luc, if you want a few beers, go ahead. I’ll drive later if you like.’

‘Riley, do you know what I’m thinking? What if we spend the whole day here. Maybe even see if we can stay the night somewhere. I think we need a proper break before we head back on the road. What do you think?’

‘That would be good.’ I smile at the thought of not at having to venture outside straightaway. It’s so exhausting and unpredictable out there. It would be good to not have to worry for a while. The only niggle of concern is that our parents will still be worrying about us, but I push it to the back of my mind. One more day won’t make a difference. ‘Shall we go and find that Marcia woman and see if she knows if there’s somewhere we can stay?’

‘Yeah, let’s go
now
then we can come back, eat and relax.’

We head off to find the show jumping arena, caught up in the festive mood and excited at the thought of an indulgent, relaxing afternoon, free from the worries of the road. We pass Shetland pony rides, craft stalls and a beautiful red and white striped helter skelter slide that I decide to have a go on later.

We stop for a few moments to watch the birds of prey and their handlers. There are falcons, hawks, buzzards and a magnificent eagle owl. They are fascinating, beautiful creatures and we both agree we could easily watch them all day, with their intelligent yellow eyes and haughty expressions. Finally, we spy the VIP tent with a couple of burly bouncers outside.

‘Hello,’ I say to one of them. ‘Is Marcia here? The Mayor told us it would be okay for us to see her.’

‘Wait there,’ he says and disappears inside the tent. He returns moments later with a large round lady, dressed from head to toe in royal blue silk. She has an unflattering blue bonnet perched on her shiny bowl haircut and a row of green bangles jangle on her arm. She’s drains the contents of her pint glass as she strides towards us.

‘Hello, hello. I’m Marcia Rowbotham. You must be our visitors. Care for a drink? I’m on the Old Ozzlehorn, it’s a great tipple.’

She shakes our hands and we follow her into the tent. The interior sparkles like a glamorous five-star hotel in a scene from a movie. We have to take our footwear off at the entrance and put on a pair of silken embroidered Turkish slippers. I can see why, as I step from grass into deep cream shag-pile carpet.

Great long sofas and ornate armchairs have been arranged in cosy groups around low dark wood tables. Dining tables are laid out in elegant rows. Crystal chandeliers glitter from the ceiling and a string quartet plays soothing sounds, blending with soft chatter and the gentle clink of glasses and silver cutlery. You would never guess we were in the middle of a field on a hot summer’s day.

Next to the bar, a sumptuous buffet is laid out on white cloth-covered trestles and the VIPs are digging in with barely-concealed abandon, all as outlandishly dressed as Marcia Rowbotham. It’s a strange sight and these eccentric people look completely at odds with their formal surroundings.  

‘What can I do for you young ‘uns?’ she says, handing us each a half pint of beer and motioning for us all to sit on one of the sofas.

‘We were just wondering if it would be possible to stay here overnight and then carry on with our journey in the morning?’ I ask.

‘Course it would. Not a problem. You can stay with us at the Lodge. Aubs and I will meet you for afternoon tea at four, we’ll talk then. Now I must get back to meeting and greeting. You go off and enjoy yourselves. We’ll see you later. Leave the glasses in the tent, when you’ve finished.’

She heaves her huge bulk off the soft armchair and is gone. My stomach is rumbling with disappointment that she didn’t offer us any of the delicious-looking food from the buffet, and the beer’s making me light-headed. But on second thoughts, I’m relieved we don’t have to stay and make small talk with strangers.

We spend the next three-and-a-half hours, eating, drinking and dozing in the sunshine. We also have a good wander around the fair, exclaiming at the exceptionally gorgeous farm animals - shaggy coated cattle, llamas, plumptious poultry, curly horned rams, comical ducks, spotted pigs, yellow-eyed goats and all their adorable offspring. We watch the show jumping, the pony and trap display and the tractor racing.

As much as I’m enjoying all the sights, my breath is shallow and my senses are heightened. Each time Luc touches my hand or my arm, it’s like I’m on fire. I had told myself that nothing could ever happen between us, but my body is telling me otherwise. And every time I look away from him, I feel his eyes on my face. I don’t think he’s going to give up on me.

The highlight of the afternoon’s entertainment is Penny Purvis, a drunken goose shepherdess, trying to herd her flock through a tricky course, in front of a highly amused audience. She’s wearing a microphone and swearing like a trooper to her oblivious birds, prompting howls of laughter and outraged gasps, before being forcibly removed from the arena. Time whizzes by in a contented blur and soon four o’clock rolls around - time for tea.

Chapter Thirty Nine

Eleanor

*

Four months later, on an icy cold February morning, Johnny returned to Gloucestershire. The bombings had eased off now, but the borders stayed firmly closed. The military were frantically recruiting as nearly half their force was still trying to get back from overseas and there were rumours they would start compulsory drafting soon.

Petrol was non-existent and there’d been no food on the supermarket shelves for weeks. People hawked produce in the streets and goods were traded as British coin was currently worthless. People wanted food, alcohol, tobacco and medicine. Pharmacies and hospitals had been emptied of stocks. Supplies, supposed to be on their way, just weren’t getting through to their destinations. Electricity, phones, gas and water were functioning, but only intermittently and people hoarded bottled water.

We were lucky to be in a small village and not a big town or city where there were riots and looting. It was a surreal time, where a person could be stabbed to death for a pack of cigarettes.

Johnny came round to call for me on a Saturday night. I was nervous about seeing him again as a lot had changed since we last met. He came in and chatted to my parents and my brothers. He’d brought a case of red wine and a caddy of loose-leaf tea with him as a gift for my parents and they were delighted to accept such a generous gift. He said not to worry, he had plenty at home and he would be offended if they didn
’
t accept.

It was unsafe to go out at night now, due to the curfew and I wondered how Johnny had managed to avoid it. He wanted to take me out that evening, but my parents said no and he accepted their decision. We went and sat in the conservatory at the back of the house instead. My mum offered him a glass of the precious wine, but he declined and said he
’
d rather have a cup of tea. We had to drink it black, as we had no milk.

‘
You
’
ve got petrol,
’
I said.

‘
Yes, I
’
ve got good contacts.
’

As I sat in the wicker armchair, next to him, I smoothed my hands over my stomach. His eyes followed my hands and I heard his sharp intake of breath. His eyes widened and then he composed himself, looking up into my defensive eyes.

‘
Is it his?
’
he asked.

‘
Yes.
’
I had the good grace to look down.

‘
How far gone are you?
’

‘
Twenty six weeks.
’

‘
Congratulations.
’
He didn
’
t sound as if he meant it.

‘
Maybe this wasn
’
t such a good idea,
’
I said.
‘
To meet up again after all this time.
’
I felt bad for him.

‘
You being pregnant doesn
’
t change why I
’
ve come here. I
’
ve got a proposition for you and I
’
d like you to hear me out before you say anything, or make any decision.
’ His voice sounded harsh and unfriendly, but
I was curious to hear what he’d come to tell me.

‘What is it, Johnny?’

‘I went back home and … well, Bournemouth’s a virtual war zone now.

‘What!’

‘No one’s safe, not even in their homes. I’ve had to hire armed guards to protect my place.’

I couldn’t even begin to imagine what it must be like.

‘My next-door-neighbours, the Donovans, they own a security firm and they’ve come up with a good idea. Eddie Donovan’s a smart man and I trust him.’

‘What’s his idea?’

‘We’ve sectioned off the area where we live and hired guards to protect it from the looters and all the nutcases. In our area, we’ve all clubbed together and put up an enclosure. We had to do it quickly, before they trashed everything. It’s basic, but it’s high and secure. And now we’ve got guards patrolling its perimeter 24 7. Some outsiders got mad because we’ve sealed-off a few roads. They asked the army to check it out, but the army’s agreed we’re within our rights to defend our properties.’

‘I can’t believe you’ve had to do all that.’ My mind spun.

‘The thing is, Ellie, we should do the same for your village. And we should do it quickly. Eddie will help me sort it.’

‘
Is it really necessary here?
I mean, we don
’
t really need protecting. We haven
’
t had much trouble.
’

‘
Unfortunately, it
’
s just a matter of time. They could trash your village in an afternoon if they wanted to.
’

‘
They?
’

‘
The nutters. The people who don
’
t give a rat’s arse about decency or morality. The ones who never had anything to lose in the first place. They
’
ll be in and out so quickly, you won
’
t know what
’
s hit you. They steal, destroy, rape and murder, and that
’
s the friendly ones. I
’
ve seen a lot in the past four months.
’

I was appalled. I hadn
’
t come close to realising how bad the situation was. I had been too busy, grieving and then adjusting to my new condition, to pay full attention to the outside world. My parents were disappointed in me for getting pregnant. Dad was so cross that he hardly spoke a civil word to me for about a month. But they gradually came round to the idea and it soon became something positive, to take everyone
’
s mind off the collapsing country.

‘
Come and speak to Dad,
’
I said to Johnny.
‘
I
can’t really
say what to do for the best. He
’
ll know the right people to talk to about this. Thank you.
’

He paused, studying me, as if weighing something up in his mind.

‘
You know that wasn
’
t really why I came back here. You being pregnant threw me off guard. I lost my bottle. I didn
’
t want you to see me upset, so I just told you all that stuff about the perimeter fence to cover up my shock. But it doesn
’
t matter anymore. I want to be truthful now.
’

‘
You mean there is no fence?’ I asked, confused. ‘Did you make it up?
’

‘
No, there is a perimeter fence, but that isn
’
t why I came here.
’

‘
So why did you?
’

‘
What I meant to say to you was …’ He took a deep breath and continued. ‘I love you, Eleanor.’ His face flushed. ‘Would you come and live with me in Bournemouth? I
’
ve got a beautiful house in a protected neighbourhood. We can bring your baby up together. I
’
d do anything for you, you must know that. I’d look after you.
’

I was shocked and overwhelmed by his declaration.

‘
I don
’
t know what to say. I don
’
t love you, Johnny. I mean, I really like you and I respect you, but live with you in Bournemouth? I don
’
t know. What about my family?
’

‘
It
’
s okay. Just think about it. Tell me when you
’
ve had a chance to take it in. You wouldn
’
t regret it. We
’
d have a good life. Think about what's best for you and for the baby. If you want to, we can still do the perimeter fence here, whatever happens.
’

I didn
’
t sleep at all that night.

*

We married at my family home in Uley and then Johnny and I made a life together in Bournemouth, a place I had never seen before. As it turned out, I never did to get see the original town of Bournemouth, the way it used to be before the attacks. We mainly stayed confined to the safety of the Talbot Woods Perimeter.

When I arrived at his house, I found out just what a true visionary my husband was, because every single room was piled-high to the ceiling with boxes and crates. After the terror attacks, and during those first stages of social and economic decline, most of the population worried about their immediate safety and petrol for their cars or where they could buy a pint of milk. Johnny, however, was busy securing his future.

Before the shops sold out, he spent all his money and got store credit in as many places as he could. He stockpiled goods - from crates of whisky and chocolate, to batteries, generators and power tools. He figured if, by some miracle, the world pulled itself back-on-course, he could just return his purchases and there was no harm done. Anyway, the world did no such thing and Johnny ended up with an enviable stash of goods to put him in an incredible position of power. He bartered wisely and steadily increased his stores.

Our daughter, Riley, was born within the Talbot Woods Perimeter and we had a second child just two years later, another daughter, Skye. We were both fairly content considering what was going on around us. Johnny threw himself into building a safe and comfortable life for us all. He adored being a family man and couldn
’
t do enough to ensure our well-being and happiness.

The outside world rarely touched our cosy existence. I knew Johnny probably had to face some tough challenges, but he refused to share all his experiences with me and I didn
’
t push him to tell me. Young and naïve, I preferred not to dwell on what he might have had to do in the course of his business life. By the time, I matured enough to worry about his career, our roles had been set and it felt like it was too late to question the type of life we led.