Fred Shemmings and his firefighters were now slowly and methodically checking every house and street for survivors, gas leaks and other damage. Most people were refusing to leave their homes and were already hard at work clearing out their damaged furniture and cleaning the mud and dirt off the floors and walls. That special spirit of community, so typical of the British when facing insuperable odds, was beginning to emerge as younger people helped their older neighbours; groups were organising themselves to shift heavier items; the more able bodied were sifting through the damaged houses for potential survivors. Even the children, recognising the seriousness of the situation, were helping their families and neighbours.
There was a persistent stench of kerosene in the air from the devastated London City Airport where the damage to the standing aircraft had been extensive. As the sun warmed all those outside, Fred realised that it wouldn’t be too long before the sun started to sink in the sky and the day would be over. He knew that the coming night would be long and would throw up many difficult and varied challenges. The Army was already bringing in basic supplies and queues were forming at street corners to collect whatever provisions were available.
The flood had destroyed virtually everything up to the first floor of every building and, closer to the river bank, even higher than that. Where houses had cellars, these were full of dirty, smelly water and the owners were slowly bailing them out with buckets. Fred deployed all his pumps and slowly but surely his teams began to make a significant difference.
Dinah maintained contact with all the local schools where the teachers were organising the children, keeping them busy cleaning up the debris and helping to clear away the mud. Everywhere, there was a coating of mud. Older children were helping with the distribution of food and water to the housebound and the infirm. Slowly and inexorably the death toll was rising, as more drowned bodies were found in the flooded houses. Where the houses had been demolished, the bodies had been washed away in the flood and some were now being discovered in surprising and unexpected places. Some had been caught in the branches of the trees, others in telephone lines. One was even wrapped around a street lamp.
Fred and Dinah had now been on the go for a full thirty hours and their exhaustion was beginning to affect their judgment. However, they were both reluctant to return home, because they both knew that their own house would be flooded just like all their neighbours’.
As Fred and his team slowly made their way along one of the streets off Westferry Road, a local resident stopped him.
“Hallo Fred. I thought that was you.”
Fred stopped and looked at the man standing in front of him. “Richard! Blimey, I’ve not clapped eyes on you for, what, twenty-five years?”
“Must be. Anyway, I can see you’re busy, but you do need to know this.”
“What?”
Richard took hold of Fred’s arm and pointed him towards a container that had been swept out of the river, but its progress had been slowed by some trees at the end of the cul de sac, where they were standing. It was now on its left hand side, wedged between two houses.
“Yeah! OK. So what’s so special about that one? There are containers like that all over Millwall.”
“Yeah! I know. But I bet they aren’t all making knocking noises, as though someone was inside.”
“What? Bloody hell! You sure?”
“Wouldn’t have stopped you, otherwise!”
They ran to the container and, sure enough, there was a definite knocking coming from the inside. Fred could see that the door was padlocked and because the container was on its side, even if they could get the padlock off, it was doubtful whether they would have the strength to lift the door up, because of its weight.
Fred spoke into his mobile phone. “Where’s the nearest cutting and lifting equipment?”
“We’ve been advised to keep all the gear in readiness before taking it to the Dartford Tunnels, Gov,” came the reply.
“Well, that’ll have to wait a bit longer. Can you get one of the lads to run the kit down here?” He turned to Richard to ask for his postcode and then spoke it into his phone.
“Be with you in ten minutes, Gov,” came the reply.
However, only five minutes passed before they heard the sirens of two approaching Fire and Rescue trucks. Fred directed them to the cul de sac. He had already assessed the situation and decided that the container would have to be dragged from between the two houses, before it could be lifted upright. The door would then swing open normally, as soon as the padlock was cut. He instructed the team, who attached light chains to the front end of the container and, after slightly lifting the front end, the truck slowly dragged it into the street, leaving a deep rut through the garden and across the pavement. The knocking stopped.
Now for the tricky bit, though Fred.
He made sure that the rescue trucks left sufficient room for the container to be lifted along its full length, so that when it was turned to more than 45 degrees, its own momentum would help to carry it into an upright position. To ensure no one was further injured on the inside, Fred positioned the chains from the second truck in such a way that it would take the strain at that point and gently lower the container to the ground in an upright position.
This plan was executed without a hitch and soon the padlocks were cut, allowing the door to be swung open. Sunlight flooded into the interior where the rescuers could see a number of people cowering at the far end. The smell inside was overpowering. Fred entered with his flashlight and, in its beam, he could see blood stains on the walls and the ceiling. He now realised that only a few of the people cowering in the far corner were moving.
“Does anyone speak English?” he asked.
“Little.” A small woman raised her hand.
“We are going to get you out and give you food and water.”
“Thank you.” The woman shook her head. “Most are dead.”
“How many are alive?”
“Four, maybe five.”
“How many dead altogether?”
The woman lifted three fingers on her left hand and five on her right.
“Where are you from?”
“Cambodia.”
“OK.”
Fred went outside and called both the police and the ambulance service. The lifting teams and equipment were already clear and on their way to the Dartford Tunnel. His team was already helping those that were still alive to leave the container and sit on the ground in the sunshine.
Milton and Pamela were only able to sleep until Noon. The smell of damp finally wakened them. They got up and immediately realised that there was no food because it had all been destroyed by the flood.
As soon as Milton got out of bed he walked to the window and glanced down the road. He was surprised to see the three young lads were still tethered to the tree. He went to the bathroom and washed quickly. He was followed by Pamela. They dressed.
“What are we going to do about food?” she asked.
“I’m not sure.” Milton tried to consider the situation rationally and came to the conclusion that all the local food shops, including the supermarkets, would be closed as all their stock would have been ruined. Apart from food and water, they would also need to buy a good quantity of cleaning materials, especially bleach and disinfectant.
“I think that best thing will be to go back to Waterloo.”
Pamela considered this and commented, “All the people there were being transferred to Clapham Common. Don’t you think we should try to go there, instead?”
“Mmm! I don’t know. That’s a bit of a hike and I doubt there’ll be any public transport. At least we’ll get some sort of a lift from Waterloo.”
“You’re probably right.”
Milton turned on the radio, part of his saved music centre. Very soon the announcer advised the listeners that a Government Message was to be broadcast in a few minutes. The Band of the Coldstream Guards played ‘Land of Hope and Glory’ and as that faded away a taped messag
e came from the Prime Minister.
All through the night the civil servants in the Cabinet Office had been working flat out. No one could remember a time when any degree of urgency had been greater. From one of the despatches, timed 10.15 am, that landed on the Prime Minister’s desk, he learned that Transport for London had suspended all public transport for the foreseeable future. He immediately picked up the telephone and asked to be connected with the London Mayor.
“Good Morning, Mr Mayor.”
“Good Morning, Prime Minister.”
“Can you advise me why Transport for London has suspended all public transport across London?”
“I imagine it’s because all the tunnels under the Thames have been flooded.”
“Mr Mayor.” The Prime Minister took a deep breath. "As far as I have been informed, that is not the case. I am advised that the flood defences to both the Victoria and the Jubilee lines prevented any ingress of water and all the connecting tunnels to other parts of the system were automatically sealed.
“In addition, I was unaware that buses make use of the same tunnels,” he added somewhat sarcastically.
There was no reply from the London Mayor. He could hear a number of papers being shuffled about, as though he was looking for a specific despatch.
“Prime Minister.” Finally, he returned to the telephone. “You are correct in both comments.”
“Thank you, Mr Mayor.” The Prime Minister took another deep breath. "Mr Mayor, I realise that since your election we have had our differences, predominantly from a political perspective. Despite that, I hope you will now join me in a spirit of cooperation to resolve the difficulties that now face both the capital and, indeed, the country as a whole. Whatever decisions are taken today, including your own, will obviously have long term ramifications. I recognise that we won’t get everything right but, I’m sure you will agree with me, there is little point in aggravating an already catastrophic situation by playing petty politics.
“Can I suggest you have a word with your contacts and colleagues at Transport for London and get the buses moving once more?” He replaced the telephone, leaving the London Mayor wondering why the transport management hadn’t reached the same conclusion several hours earlier.
He now made two calls himself. The first was to the Leader of the Opposition who confirmed that political hostilities were temporarily suspended until London was, once again, functioning. The second call was to Transport for London. The call was short and to the point. Within half an hour, buses were leaving the garages and a skeleton transport network was quickly re-established.
Just before eleven o’clock, the Prime Minister re-entered the cabinet room to advise his senior cabinet colleagues that the buses would soon be back on the streets. Wearily he sat down, realising that he was very hungry. He expected that his colleagues were feeling the same. He turned to the Cabinet Secretary and asked whether there were any provisions available, even if that might be just tea and coffee. The civil servant disappeared.
“What’s the current situation?” He looked at his colleagues.
“Prime Minister.” The Environment Secretary looked up. “The army patrols have now established that all road tunnels are completely flooded and blocked with vehicles. A start has already been made on pumping out the water at Dartford, but this is being impeded by the crushed vehicles and their dead passengers that are blocking the tunnels. I have been advised that it will be better for the pumping and the extraction of vehicles and passengers to proceed in tandem, rather than to leave the extractions until all the water is clear.”
“Why?” he interrupted.
“Well, it is felt that it may well be several days before all the water in all the tunnels can be cleared. The decomposition of the dead bodies is expected to become an increasing problem and it is thought that if the bodies are under water, the rate of decomposition will be slowed.” The Prime Minister nodded.
“The major stumbling block to this work is manpower,” he continued. "And equipment. I will need a considerable boost to my budgets if we are to make any meaningful inroads to that particular work.
“In addition, there are problems building up concerning the road network, but I will allow my colleague to cover that.”
The Minister for Transport looked up and nodded. “I can only repeat my colleague’s comments concerning manpower, equipment and finance.” He turned and looked at the Chancellor. Surprisingly, the Chancellor was looking intently at his electronic notepad, although such devices had long been banned from cabinet meetings.
“Prime Minister. I have some timely and welcome news.”
By half past eleven, the new teams that Michael wanted were already in place. They all agreed that they would be happy to come to Le Grove Investments immediately and to work through the weekend if necessary. Alice, much to her surprise, was able to track down both a builder and an electrician. They arrived late in the morning and were already at work on her planned office refurbishments. She was now endeavouring to obtain furniture and computers with a view to having them installed overnight.
Also to her surprise, the level of cooperation was excellent.
More importantly, Michael had already obtained the promise of £100 billion of potential capital, which could be used as soon as the Treasury gave its backing to his proposals. When he telephoned the Treasury, he was asked to put his proposals in an email.
He wrote:
Dear Chancellor,
You will recall our meeting yesterday morning when you attended and opened the Financial Symposium at the Guildhall.
Following the extraordinary events of yesterday afternoon and evening, with so much of London and its infrastructure being destroyed by the sea surge up the River Thames, the city appreciates that there will be a need for vast sums of capital to be made available to the Government so that the country and its capital can be returned, as quickly as possible, to some semblance of normality.
Since dawn, I have been working with colleagues here in the city to set up a fund to be made available for the Government so that this work can commence immediately. Obviously, the Government will require some degree of control over the usage of this capital, but my colleagues and I also recognise the need to commence work at the earliest opportunity, without incurring unnecessary bureaucratic encumbrances.
We also recognise that some of the damage will have been insured and it is hoped that the Government will be able to persuade the Insurance Companies to reach early settlements.
Can we meet, today, in order to discuss and finalise a pragmatic methodology whereby the city’s funding can receive Government’s support at a sensible and reasonable level of interest?
Yours ever,
Michael Varley
This was the note that the Chancellor read on his notepad during the impromptu cabinet meeting. By nature a cautious man, he read the email out loud to his colleagues. Is this too good to be true? He was thinking. He passed the notepad to the Prime Minister, who looked up, when he finished reading the message for the second time. There was silence in the room.
“I wonder how much capital he’s talking about?” he murmured, as though to himself.
“We’ll only find out by talking with him,” the Chancellor replied.
“Colleagues.” The Prime Minister looked at his cabinet. “Earlier today I said that these events would be defining. Defining for this government and defining for each one of us. Our decisions will not only make or break this Government but will also make or break this great country. We must talk with this man and discover whether he can do what he says.” He looked at his Chancellor. “This could just be the opportunity to demonstrate to the world that Great Britain knows exactly how to look after herself.”
The Chancellor immediately left the cabinet room so that he could telephone Michael Varley without interruption from the other ministers. It was just after Noon when the call was received at Le Grove Investments. Alice immediately put it through.
“Chancel
lor, good afternoon.” Michael formally greeted the Chancellor of the Exchequer before reminding him that it was only the previous morning that they had met. “As soon as the flood passed by the city in the afternoon, I realised that there would no opportunity of travelling home. My secretary and I were cut off, here in London Wall and soon after dawn we began planning how best we could assist the government.”
“Your call has been well received by the Prime Minister and the Cabinet,” the Chancellor replied. “Indeed, if you can make available the appropriate levels of capital to set the necessary renovations in motion, I am sure that the Government will be able to demonstrate a degree of understanding how best this can be achieved in the short term.”
“Thank you, Chancellor. I would suggest that we meet, immediately if that’s possible, in order to set up the basic ground rules and how soon the Government will want to take over full control of the funds and their distribution.”
“I can make arrangements to come to your office within the hour, if that’s convenient to you, Mr Varley?”
“I fully appreciate the necessity for urgency. We will be able to demonstrate to you how we are already able and capable of controlling this extraordinary situation.”
“Mr Varley, it is already past mid-day. I can be at your office by two.”
“Chancellor, it will be a pleasure to meet with you again. Thank you for responding to my email so positively. I am sure that, working together, we can indeed demonstrate to the world that London is already using this catastrophe to build for the future rather than allowing it to knock us back.”
As soon as the call was complete, Michael leant back in his chair and breathed a deep sigh of relief intermixed with empowerment. From the other side of his desk, Alice had listened to the conversation and realised that she had less than just over an hour to prepare for the visit.
Thursday Page 42