‘Having read the medical books, I’m sure it was. Sophia, Lily and Zoë’s symptoms were a lot more severe, but in essence they had the same disease as the rest of us. We had no medicine to fight it, but the rest of us managed to survive it somehow. For some reason Sophia, Lily and Zoë just couldn’t.’
‘What about the other children? Do you think they’ll they be able to fight it off?’
Allison shrugged. ‘Who knows? Lee and Tommy survived.’
‘So what happens now?’ Penny asked, repeating her question that had gone unanswered the previous day.
‘Well, clearly Lee has to remain isolated from the other children at least,’ Allison said.
‘For how long?’ Penny asked, looking squarely at Mark.
Mark did not answer and Allison’s voice was breaking as she replied. She was clearly distressed by her failure to save Zoë. ‘The human race is worse off now than in centuries past. We’ve become so reliant on antibiotics that we’ve lost much of our natural resistance to disease. I think there’s a chance that some people — like Sophia, Lily and Zoë — simply don’t have resistance to whatever disease Lee is carrying. If there were still antibiotics available it might not be an issue. But without them it is.’
‘Which means Lee will remain a risk to the other children,’ Mark said.
‘So what are you planning to do now?’
‘I want to wait a couple of weeks and then introduce another one of the children to the base group. Assuming that’s successful, I want you to come across yourself.’
‘And if I’m a carrier?’
‘I don’t think you will be.’
Steven repeated the question. ‘And if I am?’
His father did not answer, so Steven asked another. ‘And if I’m not a carrier, what about Penny? Are you going to introduce her to the group?’
Mark stayed silent.
‘I thought not. Well, I can tell you now that I’m not coming into the base group without Penny and Lee.’
‘You need to think seriously about the implications of that.’
‘There’s nothing to think about. Lee and Penny are my future now.’
‘We all need a rethink,’ Allison said, turning to Mark. ‘It seems to me that our gene pool is now even more precarious than ever. When we sailed to New Zealand we were expecting to be able to build a sustainable community. Since then we’ve lost Adam, Robert, Luke, Christopher, Sarah, Katie, Zoë and Jane.’
‘Jane may still be alive,’ Mark said quickly, but even he knew he was clutching at straws.
Allison ignored him. ‘And to compound the problem, now you’ve potentially cut off Steven, Penny and Lee. The rest of us would be better off going back to England.’
‘Seems to me that the first thing we need to do is to get the Dalton boys back,’ Fergus said.
‘We should never have deserted them in the first place,’ Allison said, looking accusingly at Mark.
‘We had no option,’ Mark rounded on her angrily.
Steven intervened. ‘It was the right decision at the time. But it should be safe to go back to Brisbane now — providing we land somewhere out of sight of Corky’s settlement. If Penny, Lee and I need to remain in isolation, we might as well be aboard Archangel. We’ll sail to Brisbane and get the Dalton boys back.’
‘I’ll come with you,’ Fergus volunteered.
‘I need you here,’ Mark snapped. ‘We need to get this place established properly.’
‘Penny and I can manage Archangel by ourselves,’ Steven said. ‘We proved that while we were away cruising.’
Mark was clearly unhappy. ‘There’s a lot of difference between sailing around Waiheke and sailing to Brisbane and back.’
Steven stood up. Penny and Lee followed his cue. ‘We’ll manage. While we’re away you can work on the second stage of your quarantine plan, and move the Gulf Harbour children into the base group one at a time. During the voyage, Penny and I will decide our own future.’
He took Penny and Lee by the hand and led them into the house.
28
Diana had summoned the adult women of the community to a meeting in the Great Hall at four o’clock. She had instructed Paul and Duncan to remain at work and the teenage girls to mind the children. Jennifer, Virginia, Kimberley and Rebecca Steed, together with Cheryl and Bridget Grey, gathered around the refectory table awaiting the Leader’s arrival.
The fact the meeting was taking place during ‘working hours’ was indicative of the progress that had been made during the three months since Diana had seized power.
Paul’s power plant, driven by new ultra-efficient treadmills and supplemented by solar and wind power, had revolutionised the community’s lives. The plant produced sufficient power to charge the batteries of a small electric truck, which had in turn enabled Paul to forage further afield and locate additional solar panels, wind turbines, batteries and inverters to expand the installation.
Among other items brought to Haver were freezers. Time that had previously been spent bottling and preserving food was freed for other tasks. Washing machines replaced the drudgery of doing laundry by hand. A computer network had been established and Diana’s labour schedules were managed on it, as were the children’s lessons. Diana and Theresa’s medical studies were progressing well, aided by the interactive DVDs they had located in a medical college.
All these advances were being driven by the legs of the Chatfield brothers, who each spent sixteen hours a day on the treadmills Paul had installed in the Punishment Room. Nigel’s old wooden treadmill had been dismantled and taken away. The leather belt system that had previously been used to lift water to the header tanks was no longer required: the electricity generated by the new treadmills operated a pump that lifted the water to the header tanks automatically.
‘Why haven’t Duncan and Paul been invited to this meeting?’ Cheryl asked. Jennifer shrugged. But before they could speculate, Diana walked in, accompanied by Susan and Theresa. All three sat down, Diana taking her usual position at the head of the table with Susan and Theresa on either side. Diana’s chair had now been replaced by one even grander than the one she had originally selected.
‘The future of this community,’ she began, ‘indeed, the future of the human race, rests with us women. When the pandemic struck four years ago, there were forty-four survivors in England and eleven survivors in New Zealand, a total world population — to the best of our knowledge — of only fifty-five people. Thanks to the stupidity of men…’ there was anger in her voice, ‘instead of the population increasing, it has decreased.’
Theresa nodded in agreement.
‘Because of the actions of Nigel and Mark,’ Diana continued, ‘there are now only twenty-six people left in England. If Mark manages to get everyone he took from Haver back to New Zealand, and if all the people he left behind in New Zealand have survived — both of which I think are big “ifs” — there may be a further twenty-one people over there. Over four years our total population has been reduced from fifty-five to forty-seven. Mark establishing a population on the other side of the world isn’t of any benefit to us here at Haver.’
‘Mark’s going to come back one day,’ Cheryl said, defending her uncle.
Diana glowered at her. ‘I doubt it.’
‘Cheryl’s right,’ Bridget insisted. ‘That’s why my dad’s hoisted the Union Jack and the Cross of St George above the West Tower. Before he left, Uncle Mark asked Dad to fly both flags if it was safe for him to return. Why would he say that if he didn’t intend to come back one day?’
‘That might well have been Mark’s intention, but you’re assuming they’re going to make it to New Zealand, let alone get all the way back here again.’
Theresa glanced at her mother. ‘Well, let’s hope they do — for Penny’s sake if nothing else.’
The reminder that Mark and Steven had enticed her daughter Penny and her grandson Lee from Haver only brought further bitterness to Diana’s voice. ‘We can no longer tolerate th
e stupidity of men. With immediate effect I’m appointing Virginia as Manager — Farm and Gardens.’
‘What about my brother?’ Jennifer challenged angrily.
‘I sacked Duncan this morning.’
‘Why?’
‘He was late with his report.’
‘It was his own fault,’ Theresa added. ‘Leader had given him a final warning at the previous meeting.’
‘Surely, if you’ve sacked my father, Jennifer should be appointed to the role?’ Virginia said. ‘After all, she’s the senior woman of our family.’
‘We need younger blood in the cabinet. We’ve got to start thinking of the future,’ Diana said firmly.
A look of anger spread across Jennifer’s face, but Diana ignored her and turned to Cheryl. ‘And I want you to take over as Manager — Building Services and Utilities.’
Cheryl was furious. ‘My father finished his report on time!’
‘Do you think I don’t know you’ve been writing his reports for him?’ said Diana scornfully. ‘It takes him all his time to spell his own name correctly. He certainly can’t spell any of the words used in the reports he’s been handing me. Anyway, that’s immaterial — he’s resigned from his post.’
‘Why?’
‘He offered his resignation in protest at Duncan’s sacking. I accepted it.’
Cheryl shook her head. ‘I might have helped him with his reports, but I don’t have his electrical knowledge or his trade skills. Where would the community be now if my father hadn’t built the power plant?’
‘I need management skills, not trade skills. Your father will be working for you from now on. And it’s part of your job as a manager to ensure his knowledge is recorded and passed on to others. I’m determined that we will no longer be reliant on men here at Haver.’
‘We’re still reliant on them for one thing,’ Bridget observed dryly, ‘if you want to increase the population.’
‘And that,’ Diana said, seizing on the cue, ‘is the reason I’ve called this meeting today.’
Suddenly she had everyone’s attention.
‘You younger women,’ she continued, casting her eyes at Virginia, Kimberley, Rebecca, Cheryl, Bridget and Theresa in turn. ‘are our future. You have to produce babies. A baby from each of you for each of the next five years and we can more than double our population. Next year, when Amy and Beatrice reach fourteen, they will join the programme too.’
‘Fourteen! What happened to the age of consent?’ challenged Cheryl. ‘You’re supposed to be Chief Justice.’
‘We need to re-establish our population. It’s no longer about an arbitrary legal age, it’s about childbearing ability.’
A ripple of protest spread around the table, with phrases such as ‘baby farming’ and ‘breeding stock’ being mentioned.
‘Who’s going to father all these babies?’ Jennifer demanded.
‘We have four fertile males: Duncan and the three Chatfields.’
Susan shook her head. ‘You can’t risk our women sleeping with the Chatfield brothers. Give the bastards half a chance and they’ll take a hostage — or worse. Anyway, who would want to sleep with them?’
‘I didn’t say anything about sleeping with them. We’re going to milk them.’
‘What!’
‘We’re going to milk their sperm.’
‘So not only are you going to turn us into baby factories,’ accused Bridget, ‘you’re going to artificially inseminate us too?’
Diana nodded. ‘We have no choice.’ She looked at the younger women. ‘Your generation will treat men simply as sperm producers. If the next generation has any sense they’ll do the same.’
‘Who’s going to do the insemination?’ Bridget asked.
‘I will,’ Theresa announced. ‘I’m a doctor.’
‘You’ve been a doctor for less than three months!’
‘It’s a simple procedure,’ Diana explained. ‘We’ve researched it thoroughly and we’ve collected all the necessary equipment.’
Bridget was suspicious. ‘From a fertility clinic or from a farm?’
The question went unanswered.
‘How do you intend to collect their sperm?’ Virginia asked.
Diana nodded to Theresa, who stood up, walked to a dresser at the side of the room and returned with a tray carrying four small, lidded jars, each one labelled.
‘Each family will be responsible for collecting the sperm from one prisoner,’ Diana said.
Theresa thrust the tray towards Cheryl, who took the jar with Damian’s name on the label. There was a thin smile on her lips. Theresa then presented the jar labelled ‘Greg’ to Susan, who took it and shook her head. Jennifer reached over and took the one labelled ‘Jasper’ before it could be offered to any other member of the Steed family.
‘Are you sure Duncan’s going to cooperate?’ Bridget asked, looking at the remaining jar.
‘He’d better cooperate,’ Diana said as she stood and took the jar from the tray. ‘Theresa will control the insemination programme. I want these jars returned to her tomorrow. Thereafter supplies are to be replenished as she requests.’
Her instructions delivered, Diana turned and left the room. The women remaining around the table looked at one another in disbelief.
‘You’d better control those jars properly,’ Virginia said to Theresa eventually. ‘I don’t want to end up giving birth to my own brother.’
‘Yuk,’ said Rebecca.
Despite the bizarre situation they found themselves in, the women broke into uncontrollable laughter.
Cheryl and Bridget followed Damian into the fire-blackened shell of the former workshop located off Stable Court, which now served as Damian’s cell. He had been moved from the Punishment Room itself because Diana had decreed that at no time were all three brothers to be in one room. One brother was always locked in his cell while the other two drove the treadmills in the Punishment Room. This room was always bolted from the outside and, as an added precaution, heavy ball-and-chain sets, collected from the Prison Museum at nearby Maidstone, were fastened to the brothers’ ankles at all times.
While the Grey family as a whole were responsible for Damian’s imprisonment, the sisters Bridget and Cheryl had volunteered to be his jailers, relieving their father of all involvement with the monster who had abused and then executed his son. They took a perverse pleasure in leading their hapless charge, carrying his heavy ball and chain, from his prison cell to the treadmill room at six o’clock every morning and returning him sixteen hours later, at ten in the evening. They always carried pointed sticks, which they were quick to use to ‘guide’ him as he staggered under the weight of the heavy ball.
Initially Diana had insisted that the three brothers wear only their underpants, but with the onset of winter she had relented, so now they wore baggy trousers and coarse shirts. The trousers were loose to allow the brothers to pass the ball and chain through the garment’s legs so they could undress when they were allowed their weekly shower.
The Steeds were in charge of Jasper, whose shift ran from ten o’clock in the evening until two in the afternoon. Jasper appeared to have accepted his lot and would plod stern-faced to and from his cell, carrying his ball. He rarely complained, but he was always out of breath by the time he had struggled back up to his cell on the third floor of Cromwell’s Tower. Often only a single person would escort him, albeit keeping at a safe distance.
The Morgan family was responsible for Greg, whose sixteen-hour shift ran from two o’clock in the afternoon until six in the morning. He had the longest climb of all, having to carry his ball and chain all the way up to the clock room at the top of the tower. Once there, he would slump exhausted onto the tiny bed that had been provided for him. More often than not it was Susan rather than Theresa who landed the task of escorting him.
Diana had sentenced the three brothers to hard labour and they were certainly getting it. Diana’s ‘sixteen-hour-a-day’ regime was even longer and harder than the routine Dia
na and her cousins had been subjected to before Nigel had been overthrown.
Exhausted by the labour of his shift, Damian dropped his ball and chain onto the stone floor and slumped on the chair in the corner of his cell. The ball rolled away, jerking to a stop once the slack of the chain had been taken up.
‘We need a specimen in here,’ Cheryl said as she handed Damian the lidded jar.
‘A specimen of what?’
‘Your sperm,’ laughed Bridget, who was standing beside her sister carrying the bowl of stew and jug of water that constituted Damian’s supper.
‘Piss off.’
‘Don’t you want your supper then?’ Bridget threatened.
‘Leave the jar there,’ grunted Damian. ‘You can have it in the morning.’
Cheryl shook her head. ‘It’s needed tonight.’
‘You’re not going to stand there and watch me, are you?’
‘Yup,’ said Bridget. ‘Now if you don’t get on with it, we’ll leave and take your supper with us.’
Spurred on by their threat, he swung around on the chair and began to masturbate, his back to them.
They waited and waited. Bridget got tired of holding the supper and placed it on the small table beside his bed. ‘For heaven’s sake,’ she said. ‘What’s wrong with you?’
‘I can’t do it with you watching me,’ Damian whined.
‘Lie on the bed,’ Bridget said. ‘I’ll give you some encouragement.’
‘You’d be wasting your time,’ Cheryl said.
‘Give me something to eat first,’ Damian demanded. ‘I’m ravenous.’
‘No sperm, no food,’ Cheryl said, grumpily. ‘Now hurry up — we want to get to bed ourselves.’
Damian’s lack of performance was no laughing matter. Diana had demanded the sperm and it was Bridget and Cheryl’s job to get it. They both knew that if they failed, they would be punished themselves. As Leader, Diana controlled the labour allocation. Failure to perform a task properly, or doing anything that annoyed Diana in any way, meant being allocated the worst jobs.
‘Come on, wake the little fellow up,’ Bridget snapped. ‘What’s wrong with you?’
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