by Phil Gilvin
Clara stared; Jack sat with a piece of toast halfway to his mouth. Bella said gently: ‘Tom, please try to remember. Did she say when it would be?’
Tom frowned, and his little eyes grew beadier. ‘Well, I dunno, Miss. She said it’s a big plan. By the Underground. And, and they’re breaking windows up on the High Street right now – I just saw ’em.’
Bella nodded, and sipped her water. ‘Tom,’ she said. ‘Get that wet coat off. Then have some breakfast. And after that, you can pack our bags.’
‘Is we goin’ on a trip, Miss?’ said Tom.
‘We is,’ said Bella. She turned to Clara and Jack. ‘Sounds like it’s not safe anymore. I’ve been thinking of leaving for a while, and I’d say now’s a good time.’ She glanced out of the window. ‘Apart from the weather, that is.’
‘Where will you go?’ asked Clara.
Bella frowned. ‘I might go back to Mother. But I don’t know what she’d say about Tom. Or we might head west–’
‘The Underground!’ interrupted Jack. ‘Hey, do either of you know how to get in contact with them? They might know about – about my friends.’
‘Well,’ said Bella, Ms Channey probably heard it second- or third-hand, so she won’t be able to help.’
‘All I had to do,’ said Clara, ‘was to go and hide in one of the old stations – then they found me. But don’t forget, there’s a lot of different groups.’
‘And if they’re about to hold a little uprising,’ added Bella, ‘maybe they won’t take kindly to visitors.’
Jack thought for a minute. ‘First let’s go and look for your mum and dad,’ he said. ‘Then we’ll see if it’s a good idea to go looking for the Underground. Deal?’
‘Deal,’ said Clara.
Twenty minutes later they stood in the vestibule, Bella fastening her cloak and Jack trying to fold one of Tom’s rain-hats so that it would stay on his head.
‘This isn’t working,’ he muttered.
‘Here’s a spare key,’ said Bella. ‘You can stay here as long as you like. But if I were you, I’d give up now, and leave town.’
‘I’m not giving up,’ said Clara. ‘But keep the key. We’ll set off now.’
‘D’you think there’s going to be another storm surge?’ said Jack, handing the hat back to Tom.
‘The weather’s as bad as it was in June,’ said Bella. ‘I’d say there’s a good chance. And this time, the Barrier won’t hold.’
‘Then I’ll have to try and find them first,’ said Clara.
‘Well,’ said Bella, ‘don’t die trying.’
‘Come on,’ said Jack. ‘Let’s get on with it.’
‘Goodbye, Jack,’ said Bella, holding out a hand. ‘Look after Clara, won’t you?’
Jack shook Bella’s hand, but blushed and said nothing. He opened the door and stood on the landing.
Clara looked at Bella. ‘Will I see you again?’ she said. ‘I mean, I’ll miss you …’
Bella stepped forward and kissed Clara on the cheek.
‘B-Bella!’ stammered Clara. ‘Oh! You’re crying. Please–’
Bella pulled out a handkerchief. ‘Off you go,’ she said, sniffing. ‘Take care of yourself.’
Slate-grey clouds blanketed the city in thick shadows. As Clara opened the front door the wind wrenched it from her hand, slamming it into the wall and sending echoes up the stairwell. Gasping, she and Jack pushed it shut. Rain splashed down their necks, and in the gloom they had no idea whether the day was dawning or not. When they reached the bottom of the steps, Clara had to grab at the railings to stay on her feet.
‘Teacher’s tits, it’s windy.’
‘What?’ shouted Jack, his words flying away on a gust.
‘Er – I mean – it’s like swearing. I never would have said that at the Academy …’ They ran to the lee side of one of the big chestnuts, its branches creaking, its torn leaves whirling down the pavement. Cold drips fell all around them.
‘I suppose I shouldn’t swear by Ms Teacher anymore,’ said Clara.
‘I don’t care how you swear, okay? We got miles to go, an’ it’s bloody cold. Let’s get moving.’
It was a struggle against a strengthening wind that heaved and whirled between the buildings. In some streets Clara and Jack were sheltered, in others badly exposed. The gusts sometimes knocked them sideways, sometimes backwards; time and again Clara would raise a foot, only for it to land back where it started. And always the rain fell, drenching them and smacking into their faces so that they had to turn their heads away. She turned to Jack. ‘You all right?’
‘F-freezing,’ shouted Jack. ‘Never felt no wind like that before. D’you think it’ll snow?’
They passed the Underground station where Clara had once been captured by May and June, and came to Vauxhall Bridge. Today there was no fog, no gunfire: instead, they had to crouch low and hold onto the parapet as the wind blew through it, and the old iron vibrated under them. On the south side, they sheltered in a doorway while they got their breath back. Then they took to the side streets where, though the pavements were flooded, at least there was more shelter.
‘What time d’you think it is?’ said Jack, brushing water out of his eyes.
‘It’s getting a bit lighter,’ said Clara, glancing up. ‘It must be nine by now.’
They turned east, and trudged on.
They came to a place where only a small park stood between them and the seething river. The gale galloped amongst the bent trees, flinging leaves and twigs through the driving rain.
‘Nearly there,’ called Clara, hanging on to a weathered lamp-post. ‘I wonder which way now? We’ll have to ask.’ She let go and staggered on, her hair blowing in her eyes.
‘Look out!’ Clara was thrown to the ground, smacking her face on the stones. She was aware of Jack’s hands around her middle and a swishing sound in her ears, but little else besides the pain.
‘Sorry,’ Jack was saying. ‘Sorry, sorry. Shit, look at your nose.’
Clara let herself be lifted and dragged. ‘Ow,’ she said. ‘Wh’append?’
‘Look,’ said Jack.
Clara turned and saw, lying by the roadside, a small tree. It had been torn off at its base.
‘Would’ve got yer,’ said Jack.
They staggered on for a hundred yards, into the shelter of another doorway. Jack slid her down the wall into a sitting position and began dabbing at her nose.
‘S all right,’ said Clara, tipping her head back. ‘Thags.’
‘What?’ said Jack.
Clara was pressing the end of a sleeve onto her nose. Bright red streaks covered her tunic. ‘Thag you,’ she said.
They remained in the doorway while Clara tried to stanch the bleeding. Jack was staring out at the street, and after a few minutes he said, ‘Not many people about, are there?’
‘I’ve seen one or two,’ said Clara. ‘But it’s not great weather.’
‘Nah,’ said Jack, ‘that’s not it. People still got ter live, ain’t they? They got to go shopping, go to work and that. It’s fishy. Either they’re all indoors hiding …’
Clara hauled herself up and stood next to him, dabbing her nose and peering through the thinning rain. ‘Or they’ve left,’ she said.
‘It’s the Barrier, ain’t it? If it goes, everywhere’s gonna be flooded. Everyone’s gone.’ Jack clenched his jaw. ‘As if they knew something. Are you – y’know, scared?’
Clara nodded. ‘Yes.’
‘Me too,’ said Jack.
A mile and a half further on, a lone woman with a dripping holdall stopped reluctantly, and gave them directions to the rec-gang compound. ‘Straight on till yer come to a cross-roads,’ she said, ‘then go left. Poor sods,’ she added with a shrug, before disappearing into the rain. Clara wasn’t sure whom she’d meant.
They found the place: an old school building opposite some ancient flats where pegs on empty washing lines leapt in the wind. A couple of Repsegs guarded the doorway. Clara and Jack circled round be
fore coming to an alley that went down the far side of the site.
There in the old playground, behind a low wall topped with thick-wired mesh, they saw them: a throng of figures in dirty orange overalls, huddling against walls and in corners. A few looked up when Clara and Jack arrived, only to turn away again. As far as Clara could tell under the noise of the wind, no-one was talking. A few trudged up and down the yard, beating their hands together to warm them.
‘There’s got to be an ’undred of them,’ said Jack.
Suddenly, all the heads turned. There was only one set of doors into the yard, in the far corner, and on these a woman was beating her fists. ‘We’re freezing out here!’ she shouted. ‘And we’ve had no bloody breakfast. For pity’s sake! We’re no use to you dead, are we?’
For a moment, nothing happened. Then, swiftly, the doors opened inwards. Surprised, the woman fell forward, and Clara caught a glimpse of two blue-clad guards. The woman was dragged inside; the doors thudded shut. A few of the recworkers ran to help, but the doors had been re-locked.
Clara and Jack had dropped down behind the wall, and it wasn’t until all had fallen quiet again that they dared look.
‘That’ll be the last anyone sees of her,’ muttered Clara.
Jack tugged at her sleeve. ‘Down there,’ he said, inclining his head. ‘There’s some of them in the corner.’
In the angle of the fence and the building, a few workers were huddled under an overhang that afforded some shelter. Crouching, Clara and Jack scuttled along the fence.
‘Hey,’ Clara hissed. ‘Hey!’
The stocky, round-backed woman nearest them turned and stared with blank eyes.
‘I’m looking for someone,’ said Clara.
The woman shrugged. ‘Well,’ she sneered, ‘you found someone.’
‘I’m looking for two people. They’d be–’ Clara realised she didn’t even know her parents’ ages ‘–thirty-five or forty, I suppose. A woman and a man. Sophia – Sophie – and James.’
‘Look, girl,’ said the woman, gesturing over her shoulder with a thumb. ‘We’ve come here to die, ain’t we? We don’t bloody care what we’re called. It don’t matter no more, right? Anyone who’s here, they’re gonna be dead soon. There’s nothing down for us, ’cept a trip to the Barrier any minute now. And if the storm surge don’t kill us, the bloody work will. All right?’
Clara swallowed. ‘Are you sure they’re not here?’
‘I told ya, we don’t even bother with our own names no more. So look: this place is crawling with guards. They’ll be out in a minute – they’re late already. If they catch you here, you’ll be joining us. And by the look of you, you won’t last five minutes. Do yerselves a favour and git out of it.’
‘I can’t go,’ moaned Clara. ‘They’re called Sophie, and James. They must be here. They’ve got to be.’
The woman shook her head, and sank down on the steps. Clara felt Jack’s hand on her shoulder, and was turning to go, when she heard a shout.
‘Clara? Clara? Is it you?’ It was hoarse, it was feeble; but it was a voice that made Clara’s heart leap. A dirty face appeared: lined and creased, and covered in thick stubble. The head was shaven and scabbed, the cheeks were haggard, but she could never forget those pale blue eyes.
Clara felt her own eyes welling up. ‘James!’.
‘Clara!’ he gasped, pressing himself against the fence. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I’ve come to get you out,’ she whispered, unsure whether to smile or to weep.
James made a choking sound. His fingers groped through the mesh. ‘You’ll never get me out,’ he said. ‘There’s – there’s guards everywhere. How did you get here? How did you find me?’
Clara looked up and down the fence. ‘I’m getting you out. There’s got to be a way.’
‘No, no.’ said James. ‘They’re coming for us, soon. Taking us to the Barrier.’
‘But there’s going to be a surge. You’ll be right in its path.’
‘I know, I know.’ He glanced up at the sky, where the heavy clouds rolled low and fast. ‘Look, I’m glad you came back, Clara. But you can’t save me, you just can’t. Save yourself instead.’ He peered at her. ‘What happened to your nose?’
‘I fell over. Is – is Mother with you?’
His head dropped. ‘They took her away. I don’t know where. Not to a rec-gang.’ He put a hand to his eyes. ‘I hope she’s safe.’
Jack had been watching. ‘What’s going on at the Barrier?’ he said.
James turned to look at him for the first time. ‘Hello,’ he said, nodding. ‘I’m James.’
‘Jack,’ said Jack.
James nodded. ‘Well, Jack, listen – you’re right about the storm-surge. The Barrier needs to hold, and the motors don’t work. So we’re going to have to raise the gates by hand. They’ll need all the rec-gangs from this end of town–’ He broke off into a long fit of coughing that bent him double. ‘Sorry,’ he gasped as it subsided. Then he spat on the ground and Clara saw that the spit was grey. What was it he’d he said, the night she left the Academy? The dust gets you in the end. It fills your lungs up, till you can’t breathe any more.
‘And all of you have got to go?’ said Clara.
‘They haven’t told us – they never do – but it’s what we heard. Site we were working on yesterday,’ grunted James, licking his lips. ‘Three people came – looked like they didn’t know their way round – trying to make contact with the Underground. There was a big fellow, spoke posh. Told us what was going on, and promised to help us escape if we could tell ’em where they could get food. We laughed. We dream about food, we told him. And there was this mean-looking bloke. He said he knew what was in for us – we were for the Barrier. Then the guards came, and they ran. But we knew they were right. It’s a death sentence – if the Barrier doesn’t hold, we’ll go under.’
Clara reached out and stroked the fingers that still clutched at the wire. ‘I want to get you out.’
‘No!’ James looked over his shoulder. He raised his voice against the wind. ‘You’re in danger, Clara – for pity’s sake, why have you come?’
Clara reached her fingers through the mesh, towards his face. ‘I want to get you out. We can find Mother, and run away.’
Jack had been staring at James. ‘Hey,’ he said, suddenly. ‘Did you catch their names?’
Clara had bowed her head, her tears mingling with the rain. James blinked. ‘What?’
‘The three people,’ said Jack, grabbing at the fence and making it rattle. ‘What were they called?’
James knotted his brows. ‘I don’t know. There were two tall blokes, a fat one and a thin one. And a small woman, fair-haired.’
Jack’s eyes widened. ‘The fat one – you said he talked posh? And the thin one, did he have a knife?’
‘I didn’t see any knife. But the fat one – yes, he did seem fond of his words.’
‘Where did you see them?’ said Jack. ‘Where?’
‘Chelsea Bridge Wharf, up river. Why?’
Jack grabbed Clara’s arm. ‘Clara, it’s them! It’s the Don, and Acker, and Ma.’
‘Jack, you can’t be sure. And they’ll have moved on since yesterday.’
‘I am sure – it’s got to be them.’ He’d already let go of the fence and was backing away down the alley.
‘But, Jack – we’ve got to get James out.’
Jack shook his head. ‘I’m going to them now. I’ve got to hurry.’
James shook the fence. ‘Clara, you’ll never get me out. Look at this wire. And the guards are coming. We’re dead people in here. Go on, go with Jack.’
Clara shook her head. ‘I can’t leave you,’ she said, fighting back the tears. ‘I won’t!’
‘We got to go,’ pleaded Jack. ‘We got to go! I want to find them!’
She turned to look into his eyes. ‘You go, Jack. Go on. I’ll come after you.’
Jack nodded, holding her gaze for a brief moment before turning
and pelting off.
‘Clara,’ gasped James. ‘You should have gone with him. You’ve got to save yourself. Please.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, as the tears came. ‘I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault …’
‘No!’ said James. ‘Whatever it is, it’s not your fault.’ He swallowed, and sniffed. ‘Listen, Clara – if you can, look for Sophie. Find your mother. Tell her–’
‘Oh, James,’ cried Clara.
From the far side of the compound there was a commotion, as the doors were thrown open again.
‘It’s the guards.’ said James. ‘Go. Go now!’
Clara shook her head. ‘But I – I–’ she blinked back the tears ‘–I love you,’ she whispered, ‘Father.’
James stared at her. Then he covered his face with his free hand and began to sob. ‘Oh, Clara!’ he cried. ‘I can die happy now. I’ve loved you all these years, and you’ve never known. So many times, I wanted to take my own little girl in my arms. But to hear you call me that – yes, I am your father, love, and I’m proud of it.’
Over James’ shoulder, Clara could see the guards hauling the stragglers away. ‘They’re coming.’ she said.
‘You’d better go,’ said James, forcing a smile. ‘All right,’ he told the guards, ‘I’m coming.’ Then, with a last long look at Clara, he turned and disappeared through the doors.
‘Father!’ sobbed Clara, ‘James!’
The doors banged shut, and keys rattled in the locks. Clara jumped up. They’d take the rec-gang out through the front doors – if she ran round, maybe she could see him again. Maybe there’d be a way of freeing him. She turned – and ran straight into someone. Someone in a grey uniform.
‘How very touching,’ said a voice.