An Ordinary Working Man

by Gillian Ferry

  As usual a discrete cough announced the presence of a butler. “Mr Purser Sir.”

  Sir George turned.

  “Thank you.”

  He made no offer of a beverage or a seat, his point was a simple and compact one that required no accessories to soften its demand.

  “Your sister Purser, she has agreed to work on behalf of a group of welfare wingers; you need to persuade her otherwise.”

  The look on Purser’s face betrayed his ignorance of the matter, but he recovered well.

  “My sister is highly unlikely to listen to me, in fact she is more likely to dig her heels in the moment I speak to her.”

  Silence.

  Sir George contemplated Purser, he was wearing the strain of his position well and he had no reason to doubt what he said.

  “Are you sure of that Purser?”

  “Yes, I am,” he replied.

  “Then we shall deal with the matter, I’ll be in touch.” Sir George turned back to contemplate the view once more, confident Purser knew when he was being dismissed. Still it was damn annoying the man couldn’t control his own sister, human rights lawyers were rated only slightly above those who feed off the state teat as far as he was concerned. Nevertheless it would still be easy enough to silence her. Damn shame that he might be forced to leave the club for a while though, a damn shame.

  Tuesday 25th November

  Nigel

  Nigel fixed one cufflink and then took the next from the box; they had been his fathers. He hadn’t kept them, nor did he wear them, out of any sentimental attachment he may feel for his parent, because he didn’t have any, he wore them because he liked their simplistic design. But he was troubled by Sir George’s comment about Ruby, no, not troubled exactly, more concerned. He’d lain in bed the previous evening and analysed his feelings toward the situation, would he care if anything happened to his sister? He decided he would not, he’d happily live the rest of his life without any contact whatsoever, so Sir George’s handling of the situation wouldn’t be a problem; not that he knew exactly what he intended to do. No, the main thing that bothered him was his mother, supposing Ruby was…no longer on the scene, would his parent’s demands upon his time increase? Meeting her once a month was tortuous, a more frequent routine would be totally unacceptable to him. Unfortunately that wouldn’t stop the inevitable barrage of calls and attempts at emotional blackmail. Damn it, Ruby really was the most thoughtless and selfish of people.

  *****

  Andrew

  “Where are we on the checkpoints?” Andrew asked, he’d been promised they would be up and running the previous evening and it hadn’t happened.

  “You have to appreciate Prime Minister that this is not the only city demanding our attention. We needed to plan our resources and deploy them accordingly,” General Beston replied.

  “Then why was I told they would be in place last night, if that was never going to happen?” Andrew knew he was being petty, what did it matter, the events of the night before? That was gone, done, and nothing could change it, he should be focusing on tonight, but christ he was tired and cranky and…

  “With all due respect Sir, I don’t believe it was the armed forces who made that promise.”

  The General looked at the Minister for Defence as he spoke, Andrew watched Chivers’ face colour.

  “It was not an unreasonable directive,” Chivers stated.

  “Well, obviously it was,” Andrew stopped and took a deep breath, surely there should be a law against making major decisions when you were this sleep deprived; Churchill had never looked exhausted when he gave his stirring speeches. Andrew stifled a yawn, christ he needed sleep. It was alright for the leader of the People’s Party banging on about their failure to manage the situation, he probably got at least eight hours sleep a night…

  “Prime Minister.”

  He heard Nigel call from way down the table, barely a whisper.

  “Prime Minister?”

  And again, him, his name, and… “Sorry Nigel, what were you saying?”

  “I wasn’t Prime Minister, you were talking…about the road blocks.”

  “Sorry, yes. General can you guarantee they will be in place by this evening?”

  “By this evening yes, and we’ve already liaised with the Commissioner and discussed taking some of the burden of maintaining social order from his officers.”

  “Although the police will remain in overall control in terms of placement of resources and the tactics used,” Lowston added.

  The General nodded his agreement, the play of politics carried on regardless.

  “And in terms of our response to the public, with regard to last night’s events Prime Minister, will there be any change?” Parks asked.

  “In what way Home Secretary?” Andrew challenged. “Are you suggesting we sanction those who would take the law into their own hands?”

  “Obviously not, but their position is…understandable, perhaps an acknowledgement of their plight would be appropriate.”

  “As in, the police are performing an inadequate job, so you do it for them. Is that what you’re suggesting?” Lowston blurted out.

  “Of course not Commissioner, but it would do no harm for the police-”

  “Gentlemen and Lady,” Andrew interrupted. “Our position remains the same, we recognise the difficulty of the present situation but the public must not take the law into their own hands. We will, once more, be appealing for them to stay off the streets and let the police, and army, do their job. Now I think that concludes this morning’s meeting, let us hope tomorrows will be more hopeful.”

  Andrew watched the four leave, no one talking, no, how’s the wife, daughter, son, just people with enormous responsibility and a limited response.

  “Tired?” Nigel asked.

  “I’ve now decided this is my normal state,” Andrew replied. “Henceforth I’ll only acknowledge my exhaustion if I feel worse than this.”

  “A lucid argument, but I wouldn’t repeat it to anyone else,” Nigel said.

  Andrew almost smiled, he felt the hitch in his chest and tug at his cheeks that may well have signalled amusement, if he had the energy to care.

  “You need to get your head down this afternoon, get a couple of hours sleep,” Nigel said.

  “Do you think that’s what Churchill did?” Andrew asked.

  “Almost certainly,” Nigel replied.

  “Well, if it’s good enough for Churchill…christ what a mess Nigel.”

  “Last night was not good.” Nigel nodded as he spoke.

  “Can you blame them though, really? Wouldn’t we have done the same, fought to protect our properties, our livelihood?” Andrew asked.

  “Well, I’d have been happy for them to take the farm.”

  Andrew smiled this time and managed a harrumph like sound.

  “But in answer to your question, no, I don’t blame them.”

  “No, neither do I,” Andrew said.

  *****

  Sue

  “What on earth is going on?” Mark Bailey muttered, as he leaned forward in his car seat. Sue was beside him and equally perplexed. They had just turned the corner onto the road which held the jobcentre plus and had been waved to slow down by a police officer, not that they wouldn’t have done so anyway.

  Sue’s dad always dropped her off outside the jobcentre plus on her signing day before driving up the road, turning left and then left again into a car park behind the building. Sue would then walk round to meet him once she had been processed. But not today, today there were people on the road shouting and screaming at each other and in the centre of it all were police officers trying to urge restraint and, where it was already too late for that, trying to pry people apart. It was a swirling pool of abuse, violence and hatred.

  Her dad was forced to pull over, just as the sound of sirens could be heard.

  “Do not get out of the car,” he instructed. He turned around, looking to reverse but they were hemmed in, as one vehicle a
fter another choked up the road.

  More police arrived, some with dogs as they tried to restore order. Bodies thumped against the car and Sue shuddered from the impact, they were now surrounded. It was as if the protestors were the apex of a storm which grew, sucking more and more people in, feeding their resentment.

  “Fucking scrounger…lazy bastards…get a job…”

  Sue could hear the snapshots of resentment, but no it was worse than that, their voices were harsh, screaming, they didn’t resent, they hated. She saw the security guards lock the doors to the jobcentre, as young men began throwing themselves against them, using their bodies as battering rams. There were people, human beings on the floor, being trampled and kicked in the maelstrom, gender and age no deterrent to the violence.

  Sue started to shake, her whole body rigid, she was terrified, what if they saw her stick, what if they tried to drag them from the car, what if they attacked her father? As if reading her thoughts Mark Bailey locked them in as the car lurched from side to side with each new body blow. The sight of such behaviour was horrendous, but Sue thought the noise to be even worse, screams, shouts, barking, a tableau of hatred; she closed her eyes and gripped her father’s hand, it was cool and steady.

  “You’re safe, we’re safe, just sit tight.” His voice was low and calm, but Sue couldn’t reply, couldn’t get enough air to her lungs to respond.

  “It will be fine,” her dad reiterated, as she held on, and then there was a new sound, car horns blaring, as if that was going to make the crowds part; allowing them to travel to safety.

  Gradually, slowly, a new sound dominated.

  “Back, move back.”

  The sound of authority.

  Sue opened her eyes, the road was clearing, not because the protesters had given up, but because the police were finally gaining the upper hand, their numbers swelled by…good god, there were soldiers, soldiers on the street. One of them gave two short slaps to the top of their car, her dad opened up the window, just a fraction.

  “Right mate, take it slow and steady.”

  Her dad nodded, restarted the engine and they inched forward. Sue watched the faces of the protesters, now held back by a police cordon, they were almost ferial; she felt sick, sick and worried because she’d missed her signing on time and what if they stopped her benefits?

  “Do you think I should wait until they open the jobcentre?” she asked.

  “You’re not going anywhere near that place today,” her dad stated.

  “I know but-”

  “Phone them when you get in,” here dad said. “That will have to be enough.”

  But would it? As her terror abated her anxiety increased.

  *****

  Nigel

  Tired, Nigel dropped his door keys into the pot in the hallway, he noticed the red light blinking on his phone. He stood for a moment, debating what to do before he pressed the button to retrieve his messages, there was only one.

  “Nigel, Nigel, are you there? Nigel? It’s your mother, phone when you get in, it’s urgent, it’s about Ruby.”

  Nigel closed his eyes and allowed the dread to run through his body. He looked at his watch, it was just after midnight, he’d phone in the morning; decision made he put his mother and sister out of his mind and instead prepared to get some much needed sleep.

  Wednesday 26th November

  Andrew

  “Hey.”

  “Hey yourself,” Andrew replied, as Molly came up behind him and began kneading his shoulders. “You should go back to bed, there’s no need for you to be up as well.”

  “I wanted to see my husband.”

  Andrew pulled his chair away from the kitchen table as Molly eased around and sat on his lap. He kissed her, enjoying the warmth of her body against his, the cocoon of sleep that still embraced her.

  “I’m sorry Mols,” he finally said. “You know what it has been like.”

  “I know it, and I understand, but that doesn’t stop me worrying about my husband.”

  Andrew gave her a weary smile. “I actually managed five hours sleep last night, I feel great, really.”

  “Good try.” Molly smiled as she spoke.

  Although to be fair Andrew felt a hell of a lot better than recently, thanks to his power nap the previous afternoon. Unfortunately he had a budget meeting pencilled in for today, but most of the cabinet seemed to sleep through those anyway.

  “How is everything?” Molly asked.

  “Everything, wow that’s a pretty big area for discussion at…” he pulled up his shirt sleeve to check his watch, “…at six thirty in the morning.”

  “Ha, ha, you know what I mean.”

  “Aaargh, I don’t know Mols, we seem to be playing catch up, every day there’s something else to react to. We need to try and dictate outcomes not belatedly respond to them.”

  “And what is stopping you from doing that?”

  “Resources, time, the lack of intel on these groups. You are the only one I can say this to, but it’s a mess Mols, an absolute mess.”

  And it was, as soon as they got a handle on one situation a new one flared up; it just seemed impossible to take control. Oh they could sit there every day in their meetings and discuss and plan, but their main hope for a restoration of stability was the protesters running out of steam and giving up; and that was a very sobering thought.

  “Well, I want you home by ten o’clock tonight, you need to get a good night’s sleep,” Molly stated.

  “Well I’d love to comply, but…” he shrugged, “…we’ll see. I’ll definitely pop back to kiss Elaine good night.”

  Molly lent forward and placed her mouth close to his ear. “It would be nice if you could be back to kiss me goodnight too.”

  He kissed her then, long and hard and then groaned as he had to break away and move her from his lap.

  “I’d like nothing better,” he said. “And who knows, today could be the day when everything starts to go our way.”

  It wasn’t.

  *****

  “I need ideas gentlemen,” Andrew reiterated. “Commissioner?”

  Lowston shook his head. “Even with the help of the army we can’t protect every jobcentre plus in the country, it’s just not possible.”

  Andrew turned to General Beston. “General?”

  “I concur. If we’re talking about a round the clock presence on the streets, then we would have to reduce the number of police officers and army that are available to patrol at night.”

  “Let’s say that’s not an option. Chivers?” Andrew turned to his Minister for Defence, he just shrugged.

  “Very helpful, thanks for that. Home Secretary?”

  “If the protesters intend to maintain their presence outside the jobcentre plus, then the numbers participating in violence during the night may be reduced, and if that proves to be true we could divert some of those peace keeping forces from night duty to day.”

  “So, our plan is to hope the protesters are as tired as we are?” Andrew replied.

  “No, but if I may be blunt, we will gain more public backing by maintaining peace in the towns and cities than within the benefit’s estates.”

  Andrew tapped his index finger on the table, he would have liked to dismiss the Home Secretary’s suggestion, but she was right; politically it made sense.

  “Commissioner, General, I want you to direct more of your resources into the towns and cities. We can’t have disruption to people’s livelihoods during the day. Are we all agreed on that?”

  Four heads nodded in affirmation.

  “How are the blockades working?” Andrew asked. They had, as promised been up and running the previous evening, resulting in a miniscule reduction in violence, which could just has easily been caused by an extremely cold night.

  “My soldiers confiscated several thousand potential weapons from individuals travelling both to and from towns and cities.”

  “And my officers were able to make several arrests for possession of an off
ensive weapon. One of which was a hand gun,” Lowston added.

  “A hand gun, jesus,” Chiver’s muttered.

  “I want to be informed immediately if any more such weapons are obtained,” Andrew stated, a hand gun, that was a whole other area of concern.

  “Presumably the majority of these types of arms are present within the estates?”

  “That would be my guess,” the Commissioner answered. “That’s where all the drug dealers live and they tend to be the ones who also have access to arms.”

  “Okay, another development we need to be aware of. Any suggestions as to how we ensure this was indeed a one off occurrence?” Andrew asked.

  “We could instil a curfew, restricting the movement of peoples during the hours of say, midnight and six. That should result in the reduction of violent acts,” the General suggested.

  “And what of people, low paid workers, who live on the estates and need to travel to and from the cities in hours that could potentially fall outside any limits we were to impose? I’m thinking of cleaners and so on,” Parks said.

  “We get their employers to issue them with a letter or something, proving their employment,” Beston answered.

  “It’s a big step,” Andrew said.

  “One the French and Germans are also considering,” Parks added.

  “Yes, but the administration involved could be lengthy, not to mention the protests from human rights activists,” Andrew commented, but his mind was already working around to it, this could be the piece of legislation that put them one step ahead. “However, I think it’s worth considering. Sally can you look into the paperwork side of things, come up with a simple means of identifying those workers who have a legitimate reason for travelling during curfew hours.”

  “What timescale were you thinking of, in terms of the curfew?” Parks asked.