No Refuge

by Greg Elswood

  Maria had twice been offered a trial period without pay, and she shuddered at the memory of the second occasion.

  ‘I’ll give you a try, for a couple of weeks,’ the balding, middle-aged man with the pot belly had said.

  ‘Oh, OK. And how much will you pay me if I get the job, after the trial?’ Maria had asked. She wasn’t sure she really wanted to work in the hardware store, where the goods looked like they had sat decaying on the dusty shelves for several years, but she might as well ask.

  ‘Oh, don’t worry about that. I’m sure we’ll come to some arrangement.’ He looked Maria up and down, and there was no doubt in Maria’s mind what he was expecting her to do for a chance of a job, or what he would be paying her for. She turned and ran out of the lecher’s filthy shop to the sound of his laughter, as he revelled in her humiliation.

  Maria felt like returning to the Refuge, but she was determined to reach the end of the street. She was not a quitter, she told herself between a couple of deep breaths, and she would not be deterred by a grubby little man with nothing better to do than taunt women. She had walked up the east side of the High Street as far as St. Leonard’s Church and was now making her way back down the opposite side. She had fewer than twenty shops to go, so the end was in sight, and at least she was now heading back towards the Refuge.

  She entered a linen and textiles store that was full to bursting with racks of ready-made curtains, bedding and fabric samples. Behind the counter at the back of the store stood an elderly woman, who looked up from the magazine she was reading and smiled.

  ‘Hello, my dear, can I help you?’

  Maria beamed back at the shopkeeper and tried to sound positive. ‘I was wondering if you have any vacancies at the moment please? I work hard and I’m good with customers.’

  The woman’s smile faded. ‘Oh no, I’m sorry, I don’t need anyone else. I don’t get that much business and can only just afford to pay myself as it is.’

  Maria looked around the shop and imagined that on many days nothing would be sold. It wasn’t the first time today she’d had that impression.

  ‘Can I leave my name in case anything changes?’ she asked.

  ‘I don’t think so. We both know nothing is going to change.’

  ‘OK, thanks anyway. You don’t happen to know of anyone else looking for staff do you?’ Maria had asked this everywhere and expected the same answer.

  The woman looked at Maria and shook her head. ‘No, not any of the shops along here, but I’ve a feeling you’ve asked most of them already.’

  ‘Yes, I have, but no joy so far.’

  Maria turned to leave, but the shopkeeper hadn’t finished. ‘Is it just shop work you want, or are you willing to do other things, like cleaning?’

  Maria turned back. A ray of hope? ‘Yes, I’m happy to do anything, and cleaning is fine with me. Do you need a cleaner?’

  ‘No, not me, and I don’t know if there is a job going, but I saw that two men had opened up one of the arches round the back today. It used to be a car workshop and they were clearing it out this afternoon. It hasn’t been used for years, but you may be lucky with your timing if they’re starting up there again. It’s just a thought.’

  ‘Oh, thank you, that’s great, I’ll take a look now. Where did you say this workshop was?’

  ‘Turn right after the takeaway next door, into Rivington Street. Go under the railway bridge, then you’ll see the arches on the other side. Theirs is the second one along, and when I popped out a little earlier they had the door open. You can’t miss it.’

  Maria thanked the woman again and her mood brightened. She skipped past the kebab shop, headed down Rivington Street, then passed under the bridge and looked down the row of arches. As the woman had said, the door of the second one was open, with a pile of rubbish next to it, although she couldn’t see or hear anyone as she stepped towards the entrance.

  ***

  Michael and Paddy had made a start on clearing out the lock-up. They had removed some of the old boxes and garbage from the store area and piled it all outside, and then set to work sweeping the worst of the cobwebs and debris away. It was dirty work, and very soon Paddy started to cough and wheeze and after half an hour he was drenched with sweat.

  ‘Hey Paddy, take it easy, I can do this bit,’ Michael said. ‘Take a break outside until I’ve cleared the worst of the dust.’

  Michael was worried about Paddy’s health, especially the effects of the dust and workload on his lungs, although his main concern was the mission itself. If Paddy exerted himself too much he might need medical treatment, and that was the last thing they needed. It would draw attention to what they were doing and could even jeopardise the bombing if Paddy became too unwell. He was on borrowed time and may not get another chance, and now that they were into the operation, Michael was keen to get on with it. He also didn’t want to be associated with an aborted mission due to someone else’s failure; he had his reputation to uphold.

  ‘Yeah, thanks, I think you’re right. Once the dust has cleared a bit, I’m sure I’ll be better and I can help with the mopping. I’ll go and fetch us some tea from the café around the corner. At least I can manage that. Fancy one?’

  ‘Sounds grand. Take your time, I’ve got this covered.’

  While Paddy was gone, Michael swept the rest of the ground floor. He then glanced up at the loft section and decided he should take a look. It might also need sweeping out to remove any dust, to avoid it settling through the hatch once the yoghurt was delivered.

  He flicked the switch for the light, climbed up the ladder to the platform and surveyed the space. Several boxes lay scattered around, coated in a thick layer of muck and covered in cobwebs. He also recognised the tell-tale signs of rodents: tiny droppings and tracks in the dirt and nibbled holes in the boxes. He didn’t think the rats and mice would disturb the dust, but they might be attracted to the food they’d be bringing in, so they’d need to take precautions against that.

  A train rumbled overhead, as they had every few minutes since he’d arrived. However, unlike downstairs, up on the platform he felt a tiny vibration from the passing train, and there was also a very faint breeze up here that he hadn’t noticed downstairs. On closer inspection, he found a couple of holes in the wall, which may have housed piping or vents in the past but were now just gaps. He guessed they would lead to the arches either side of this one, and ultimately into the open air somewhere, and maybe this was where the rats and mice got in. But he didn’t think it would be worth trying to block them up, as there were probably other smaller holes they used too.

  ‘Hey, Michael, where have you got to? Tea’s here,’ Paddy said from downstairs.

  ‘Up here, I’ll be down in a minute. I’m just going to push these boxes away from the hatch and up against the wall.’

  Two minutes later, Michael took his tea from Paddy, who looked better than earlier but still not up to helping with the mopping.

  ‘How are you? OK to go on?’

  ‘Oh, I’ll be fine, don’t you worry yourself, Michael.’

  Paddy then coughed as he breathed in the steam rising from his cup, and brought his hand to his chest with a wince. He looked at Michael. ‘Honest, I’ll be OK, once I’ve finished my tea. We have work to do.’

  Michael was about to argue when he heard footsteps outside. He looked over Paddy’s shoulder, immediately on guard.

  ‘Hello, is anyone there?’ a female voice said, accompanied by a tentative knock on the wooden door, and Maria stepped into view.

  ‘What do you want?’ Paddy demanded.

  His terse tone left Maria in no doubt that she was unwelcome, but undaunted she answered, ‘I saw the door was open and was wondering if you needed any help.’

  She looked around the space and saw Michael. She addressed him and hoped for a more sympathetic response. ‘It looks like you’re cleaning this out, so are you starting up here? I’m looking for work and am happy to do most things. I’ll work hard.’

&nb
sp; ‘No,’ Paddy said, ‘there’s no work for you here.’

  Michael recognised the desperation in Maria’s eyes, but she hadn’t flinched or looked away at Paddy’s curt response and she stood waiting for Michael to respond. He liked her. He put his hand on Paddy’s shoulder and said, ‘Maybe there is something she can do.’

  Paddy shot him a look, but Michael whispered back to him, ‘It’s OK, I’ve got an idea.’

  Michael stepped forward and smiled at Maria.

  ‘Don’t mind my friend, he’s a bit of a grouch as he’s a little unwell at the moment. As it happens, we may need some help, but it would only be for a day or two to start with. Is that any good for you?’

  Maria was delighted that at last someone was talking to her. ‘Oh yes, that’s fine, but could it be for longer if I work well? What’s it doing?’

  ‘First things first, what’s your name? Mine’s Martin,’ he said, ‘and my friend here is Peter.’

  He held out his hand in greeting. Paddy had seen this performance before from Michael, turning on the charm when he wanted something, particularly from women. But he still didn’t know why he was encouraging this girl. They needed to keep their activities quiet.

  ‘I’m Maria,’ she answered, blushing as she took Michael’s offered hand. ‘Pleased to meet you.’

  ‘Pleased to meet you too, Maria, and you may have arrived at a good time. Peter and I were just talking about the work we have to do in the store room here. We are in the food business and we really need this area cleaned before our first stock arrives tomorrow. I’m afraid we may have misjudged it, especially as Peter is feeling a bit under the weather.’

  ‘I can help, but how are you going to do this by tomorrow, as it’s already late in the day? And what happens after that, is it just one day’s work?’

  ‘Well yes, I’m afraid it would mean working late tonight, so we’ll pay extra. But if you have family to get home to, does that work for you?’

  Maria thought about it for a second. She had been out all day, but she didn’t need to get back to the Refuge early and no one would miss her. She decided to keep quiet about the shelter. She mustn’t lose this chance.

  ‘No, that’s OK, I live alone. I can do it. But I will need to get some food soon, as I haven’t eaten much today.’

  ‘Excellent, that makes two of us. I’m starving too,’ Michael said, and then continued with his charade. ‘You also asked what happens after tomorrow. Well, after the delivery has come in, we need to distribute it, which we’ll probably do the following day. You can help with that too, and who knows, it may be the start of something big. You see, this is a brand-new product, all hush-hush at the moment, and if it catches on we could all do well out of this.’

  Maria’s eyes widened and she grinned at Michael. ‘Where do I start?’ she asked, not needing any further encouragement.

  Within minutes Michael had her wiping down work surfaces and mopping the floor, but once she was occupied, Paddy signalled to Michael to follow him outside.

  ‘What the hell are you doing? I know I was struggling with the work, but what makes you think we can trust this girl? She might go home and tell all her friends about it, and what if they all turn up looking for work? Our cover will be blown.’

  ‘Trust me Paddy, she won’t tell anyone. You heard what she said, she lives alone, and after tonight she’ll be too tired to do anything but sleep when she gets in. And I bet she won’t share this with anyone until she knows she actually has the job herself. It’s human nature.’

  ‘But after the event, she will lead the police to this place. Then they may be able to track us down,’ Paddy said, still concerned at Michael’s plan.

  The veneer of charm he had adopted to recruit Maria fell away, and an evil glint appeared in Michael’s eyes. ‘Ha, that’s the best bit, don’t you see? There is no after the event for her. If we get her to hand out the yoghurts, she will go up in the blast. No, believe me, this is perfect. Not only is she helping us, she will also be the first one the police investigate afterwards. From the look of her, I’d say she’s from Eastern Europe or the Med and there is nothing to link you or me with her, so they’ll be looking in the wrong direction.’

  ‘You better pray you’re right, Michael. If they ever link us to that girl, we’re dead men.’

  Michael peered through the crack in the door at Maria, a young woman he had met barely minutes earlier, now sentenced to death. ‘You worry too much. She has been sent to help us. God works in mysterious ways.’

  Maria hummed to herself as she scrubbed shelves, unaware of the plot against her. What unbelievable luck to find this job. She would work as hard as she could to justify Martin’s faith in her, and she prayed that the new product would be a smash hit.

  9

  There was a fresh edge to the late afternoon air as Jacob made his way past the former St Michael’s Church and he pushed his hands deep into his coat pockets. It was going to be a long, cold night.

  When he reached City Road, he noticed more people than usual walking the streets. Then he remembered overhearing that the tube strike started this afternoon, which meant that more City workers would be walking or cycling than on a normal day. The pavements would be busier and more hazardous and it would be best to stay away from the main roads, so Jacob decided instead to head for the relative tranquillity of Bunhill Fields. The home of the dead.

  Jacob often passed through the historic burial grounds, but he didn’t like spending nights there. Bunhill Fields closed every day just before dark, although it wasn’t unusual for homeless people to evade the attendant so that they could spend the night undisturbed amongst the tombs and headstones. But this wasn’t for Jacob. The park offered little in the way of shelter or warmth, and he preferred to find a doorway or recess at night, or a disused building away from the elements. Even in the summer it didn’t feel right, the thought of all those bodies lending a chill to the sultry London air.

  However, the grounds would be open for a couple of hours yet, so Jacob entered them by the City Road gate and clambered over the green railings to avoid the attendant’s office. Even though he had no intention of staying for long, it was still likely that he’d be moved on if he was seen, so he wouldn’t take that chance.

  All was quiet in the grounds. It wasn’t a tourist hotspot at the busiest of times, but maybe the transport strike was keeping away the few that might have visited today, and Jacob smiled at the welcome desolation around him. He extracted some newspapers from beneath his coat and laid them on the ground, behind a tomb of the Cromwells, then sat back against the wall. He took the photo from his pocket and stared at the image of his wife and daughter, before eventually closing his eyes. The buildings of the Honourable Artillery Company were behind him, exactly where he wanted them, and to the sound of the rustling leaves he soon drifted into a light doze.

  The mood during the drive into the derelict village was sombre, heavy with dread at what they might find. The radioed message had told them to prepare themselves for the worst, to suspend all of their belief and trust in humanity and to steel themselves against the most unimaginable barbarity. This they did, and yet they were still unprepared for the horror that awaited them.

  From the outside, the building appeared like any other; battered and bruised from shelling and gunfire, but still standing and capable of providing basic shelter. The first indication of what was to come was the image of hardened, grown men gagging at the open doors as they approached, and a sense of foreboding fell over the unit.

  The first assault on Jacob’s senses was the smell, a stench of decaying, rotting flesh peculiar to human remains. Flies swarmed around the doors and the air was thick with death. Hundreds of cartridges and shell cases littered the floor, and streaks of dark red, almost black stained the concrete where bodies had been dragged across the warehouse and piled to one side. The entire floor at that side of the building was covered in corpses, in places three or four deep. From the position and angle of some of them, it a
ppeared that many of the victims had survived the initial shooting and had crawled across their prone friends, family or neighbours, only to be executed before reaching safety. Three of them still lay on the sills of the side windows where they had almost escaped, slain just as they believed they could reach freedom on the other side.

  As if that wasn’t diabolical enough, scores of dismembered bodies lay slumped against the right-hand wall, splashed with blood and bearing the marks of ritual slaughter. What possessed men to kill others like this, not only rounded up and executed in cold blood, but allowing them to suffer for hours from their wounds and then shooting them when they could no longer summon the energy to cry out in pain?

  Jacob noted that all of the victims wore civilian clothes and all were male, several of them little more than boys. What had they done to the women and girls, and the youngest boys? He found out, when he was led round the side of the building to a deep trench at the back. They hadn’t spared the village’s women and children; they had raped and butchered them and made the men of the village watch, before killing them too. And as he reeled in shock at the mass burial ground of the innocents, all Jacob could see was a sea of faces, all in the image of Selma and Leila. The field of the dead.

  ‘Hey you, wake up, you can’t stay in here. Come on, I’m locking up.’

  Jacob jolted, suddenly wide awake. Dazed and confused, he struck out instinctively, his eyes wild and bulging, and caught the attendant with a glancing blow to his cheek as he leaned forward to pull Jacob to his feet.

  ‘What the hell? There’s no need for all that. I’m just doing my job and don’t want any trouble.’

  It was almost dark and Jacob was disorientated. But as his breathing slowed, he remembered where he was: in Bunhill Fields surrounded by the dead of long ago, not a mass graveyard of a foreign land. He took a long, deep breath and exhaled slowly. The attendant had retreated a couple of yards and studied Jacob with narrowed eyes, aware that he might lash out again.

  ‘It’s OK, I’m going. Just a little creaky in the bones nowadays. Give me a minute.’