Trust

by David Moody

  ‘No, not that. After the news. It’s on next.’

  Clare called for Penny who got up and scrambled away, leaving Tom alone in the living room. He struggled to find the right button on the right remote control, but eventually managed to increase the volume slightly. A cursory glance at the headlines running across the screen revealed that nothing much seemed to have changed in the few hours since he’d last checked. He was relieved. He felt like he’d taken his eye off the ball coming here. Anything could have happened.

  Clare passed him his drink and sat down next to him.

  ‘So what do you think about all of this?’ he asked.

  ‘Not a lot.’

  ‘You’re not excited? Intrigued?’

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘Plenty of other folks seem to be. Thatcham’s rammed.’

  ‘I know. Drayton’s the same. I tried to do a bit of shopping first thing this morning but I ended up turning back and coming home.’

  ‘Still doesn’t seem real, does it? I mean, actual confirmed contact with another form of intelligent life.’

  ‘Another intelligent life-form? What, you think mankind’s intelligent? Jesus…’

  Tom sensed another anti-male, anti-Aiden rant coming, and he moved fast to head it off. ‘Let’s just hope some good comes of it, eh? You’d think with that kind of technology they might be able to help us make a few advances and—’

  ‘The only kind of advances I’m interested in,’ she quickly interrupted, ‘are advances on my salary so I can afford to pay the bills and keep a roof over our head. Do you have any idea how much Penny’s childcare fees have been this summer? I couldn’t give a damn about bloody spaceships and the like.’

  ‘Fair enough.’

  ‘I don’t want to piss on anyone’s parade,’ she continued, fired-up again, ‘but I’ll be honest with you, Tom, because I always am. I don’t give a shit what’s happening next door, never mind the next town, the next country, or the next bloody galaxy. All I’m concerned about is making sure my little girl is safe and happy and that she has everything she needs. I have to put her first, because no one else gives a flying fuck. And if everyone’s now going to spend their time looking up at the stars, thinking about buggering off into space, then there’s less chance than ever of me getting any help.’

  Tom had touched a raw nerve, and he immediately regretted saying anything. But Christ, all he’d done was mention what was on TV. ‘Look, I’m sorry,’ he said, not entirely sure what he was apologising for. ‘You know I’m here if you need anything.’

  She smiled and gently squeezed his hand. ‘I know. Look, I’m sorry I’m such a bitch at the moment. Like I said, it’s been a bad week. I know I can rely on you, but…’

  A moment’s silence.

  ‘But what?’

  ‘But it’s not the same, is it? I don’t want to offend you, Tom, so please don’t take this the wrong way, but you’ve got Siobhan and your brother, and you don’t owe me or Penny anything. By rights we should be at the very bottom of your list of priorities.’

  ‘Thing is, I don’t have much in the way of priorities right now.’

  ‘I understand that. I’m being clumsy here… I guess what I’m trying to say is we’re not your responsibility. Aiden’s the one who should be providing right now, and no matter what he’s done, for Penny’s sake I can’t shut him out of her life completely. All I want to do is punch the fucker in the face or worse when I see him, but I can’t. I have to stay positive and keep trying, even if it kills me.’

  ‘I’m not trying to take anyone’s place, I’m just—’

  ‘As much as I hate him right now,’ Clare interrupted, not listening, ‘and I do hate him, he’s still Penny’s dad.’

  Tom resolved to keep his mouth shut and was relieved when a change on the TV brought a welcome distraction. Breaking News, a gaudy graphic announced.

  ‘Mind if I…?’ Tom asked, picking up the remote control again. He turned up the volume as yet another stuffed suit took up position behind another UN plinth. Tom’s mouth was dry and he felt uncomfortable, half-expecting the diplomat to be about to announce the beginning of hostilities or something similar.

  ‘I bet it’s all gone belly-up,’ Clare said, and it made Tom feel slightly better knowing he wasn’t the only person left who was still looking at glasses which were half-empty rather than half-full.

  ‘Further to the information we shared with you earlier today,’ the spokesman began, ‘we can now provide you with an important update.’

  ‘They’ve brought space germs with them and we’re all fucked,’ Clare said. ‘I saw a film like that once.’

  ‘Either that or we’re all being ordered to report to processing centres first thing Monday morning so they can turn us into mindless drones.’

  ‘I think they’ve already started. Have you been into Drayton recently?’

  ‘A thorough inspection of the alien vessel has been carried out by their technicians,’ the man on the screen continued. ‘They have reached the conclusion that the ship is damaged beyond repair. Contact has been made with their home-world, and we’ve been advised that a rescue mission is already being prepared for launch. Current estimates are that it should arrive by May next year.’

  ‘Next year?’ Tom exclaimed. ‘Bloody hell.’

  ‘They managed to get in touch quick enough, though.’

  ‘Ten months,’ he repeated. ‘At the speed that thing moves? Why’s it going to take so long?’

  ‘Can’t say I’m surprised. Ten months is plenty long enough for them to get themselves well and truly settled. We’re never going to be able to get rid of them now, are we?’

  ‘We don’t know that.’

  ‘Let’s be honest, Tom, we don’t really know anything yet.’

  He didn’t bother trying to argue with her logic. On the screen the UN spokesman was still in full flow.

  ‘By unanimous agreement we have today passed a United Nations resolution which permits these travellers – our guests – asylum here until such a time as they are able to leave. It is hoped that both the visitors and ourselves will be able to take advantage of our time together in order to learn about each other’s planets, cultures and technologies. This is a tremendously exciting time for all of us.’

  ‘Bollocks,’ Clare interrupted. ‘Who are they kidding? Does anyone really believe they’re going to learn anything from us? Bloody hell, look at the state of their spaceship. Do you honestly think we’ll be able to tell them anything they don’t already know?’

  ‘You’re right,’ Tom agreed. ‘They’ve got halfway across the universe. We can’t even get a bloody unmanned probe to Mars without fucking it up.’

  ‘This is all spin,’ Clare said, ‘no substance. It’s all so bloody vague. I used to have the same problem with Aiden. He could talk the talk and he was full of big ideas, but when you looked deeper, there was nothing there.’

  Tom glanced across at her. She picked up a magazine and started flicking through the pages, her limited interest in the aliens clearly exhausted. It was obvious from her tone that, to Clare, the sudden arrival of these visitors was just another unnecessary complication to her already unnecessarily complicated life.

  The man on screen still had more to say.

  ‘We have been informed that there is a slight danger of a leak from the ship’s engines. Having fully considered the information provided to us by the visitors, the Security Council has agreed that the most sensible course of action available is for the aliens to destroy their ship. Arrangements are being made to launch the vessel away from Earth on a course which will guide it directly into the sun. We are assured by our solar experts that this will have no detrimental side-effects and that it is the safest and easiest way of avoiding potential dangers. Furthermore, when the—’

  Tom didn’t get to hear anything else. Clare snatched up the remote and switched the TV off.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said, ‘I’ve heard enough for one day.’

  Tom
looked across at her again, concerned. She caught his eye momentarily, then looked away.

  ‘Listen, I’m only going to ask you this one more time. Are you sure you’re okay?’

  She paused, and she seemed about to say something before deciding at the last possible second that she shouldn’t. ‘I’m fine,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry I’m such a miserable bitch.’

  ‘You’re not,’ he said instinctively.

  ‘I am.’

  ‘Okay, you are. But I understand. You don’t have to apologise.’

  ‘I’m probably just hormonal.’

  ‘Too much detail.’

  She smiled. ‘It’s just that sometimes I feel like I can’t breathe, you know? It’s not Penny’s fault, and I feel like a bad mum just for saying this, but I’d just like a break. I’d like to go out and get pissed. I want to pick up my studying again and try and finish my degree. I want to be more than just a mum and an employee. Does that make any sense, or am I just being selfish?’

  ‘It makes complete sense.’

  ‘I just want to have a little control back, you know? It’s like every minute of every day I’m doing stuff for other people, and there’s never any time left for me. I think that’s why I’m not interested in these bloody aliens. I’ve already got too much to think about.’

  There was nothing Tom could do or say. He waited a few seconds longer before making his excuses. ‘I should go…’

  ‘I don’t blame you. I would if I was you.’ She smiled. ‘Thanks for your help with the computer, Tom.’

  ‘No worries. If you need anything else…’

  ‘I’ll call.’

  ‘Promise?’

  ‘Promise.’

  CHAPTER 6

  It took Tom over an hour to get back home from Clare’s. He could have run to Thatcham in half the time, and he would have if he’d known how bad the traffic was going to be. He even considered abandoning the car and coming back for it later, but there were no spaces in which he could leave it, and no sign that the congestion was going to ease.

  He eventually parked up outside the bungalow and stretched his back, glad to be out of the car.

  ‘You leaving that there?’

  Tom looked around and saw his neighbour, Ray Mercer, storming towards him. They’d had their differences from the outset, after Tom had savagely pruned several of Mercer’s Laburnums which had been overhanging his garden, blocking the light. Mercer had threatened to report him to the police. Tom had told him to stop complaining and find something better to do with what was left of his life, and things had gone downhill from there.

  ‘Well seeing as I’ve parked on my drive,’ he replied, ‘yes. Is there a problem?’

  Mercer grunted. ‘Spoils my view of the sunset when you park there.’

  ‘Oh well. I’ll bear that in mind if I go out again later.’

  ‘You do that,’ Mercer said, turning his back on Tom and marching back to his house.

  Arsehole, Tom thought, making a mental note to leave his car there more often. He found it strangely reassuring that, aliens or no aliens, Mercer was as objectionable a prick as ever.

  From his high vantage point Tom looked down over Thatcham and the surrounding area. There seemed to be even more tents in the campsite just outside the village now, barely any spaces left between them. A flood of people disembarked from a usually half-empty train. Crowds of drinkers spilled out onto the street outside the Badger’s Sett. Mrs Grayson was standing in front of the supermarket, leaning up the window and puffing on a cigarette as she did most times he saw her. Life goes on, he said to himself. This time yesterday, he hadn’t been sure that would be the case.

  The eyes of the world seemed still to be focused on Thatcham, and Tom felt that he was right at the centre of it all. He didn’t like it. He’d come here to get out of the limelight, to find somewhere he could go unnoticed. Maybe the madness would die down as quickly as it had begun? Despite the intense media interest, he was surprised at how relatively normal things still felt. He’d half expected the scaremongers and prophets of doom to have been out in force by now, dispensing their fabricated stories about the visitors to anyone who’d listen. But they hadn’t. It seemed the importance of this situation had been recognised by everyone. Every media outlet appeared to have access to every detail about the aliens. He guessed that there was plenty more being withheld at the highest levels but, even so, he hadn’t yet heard much in the way of speculation. Enough information had been released to avoid the need for second-guessing.

  Maybe that’s for the best, Tom thought. Sensationalism and scoops have been put to one side temporarily. Just for now it’s all about disseminating the news as efficiently as possible. It’ll all be about ratings, circulation figures and profit again in no time.

  He wondered whether things would ever get back to normal, before telling himself that this was normal now. A few days back, everything that had happened would have seemed completely unbelievable, laughable even. But the fantasy of science-fiction had become reality within just a few seconds yesterday afternoon. The aliens were here, and nothing was ever going to be the same again.

  CHAPTER 7

  Sunday was another lazy day – Tom had had a lot of those recently – and most of it was spent at home with Siobhan. With the new term looming, Rob had caught a train into Drayton, then another on to Willsham and the university where he studied and worked. After an afternoon spent dozing in front of the TV after lunch, Siobhan too went home rather than stay the night with Tom. She had an early start at the office on Monday, with several clients to see and the realistic possibility of a flood of new work after the events of Friday afternoon. She’d been on the telephone to Mona already. Working in recruitment, they knew the suddenly swollen population of Drayton and the surrounding area would be ripe for exploiting.

  After being surrounded by family and friends almost all of the time for the last few weeks, Tom’s small bungalow felt huge once they’d all gone and he was alone. He sat in front of the television with a sandwich and a few bottles of beer. He put a film on just after ten, but was asleep before the opening titles had finished. He woke up several hours later, the only light in the house coming from the TV. His neck was stiff, his back ached, and he’d knocked over his drink.

  His planned lie-in the following morning didn’t happen either. He usually enjoyed Monday mornings and the smug satisfaction of staying in bed when pretty much everyone else was having to force themselves to get up and begin yet another week. This Monday, however, at some ridiculously early hour, the phone rang. It was James, scrounging a lift because his car had let him down (again). Much as he wanted to, Tom couldn’t bring himself to say no. He had no excuse and absolutely nothing else to do.

  James worked in Drayton. The volume of traffic was just slightly heavier than usual rush hour levels and it wasn’t a particularly long journey, but before they’d covered more than a couple of miles, James had left Tom in absolutely no doubt as to why leaving his job in Birmingham had been the best move he’d made in a long time. Sure, his life might have been lacking a little purpose and direction since he’d moved out to the sticks, but it still seemed immeasurably preferable to the alternative.

  ‘So let me see if I’ve got this right,’ Tom said, feigning interest. ‘Your boss has said he wants you out.’

  ‘Not in so many words, but that’s the gist of it.’

  ‘There must be a reason, though. He can’t just sack you because he doesn’t like your face.’

  ‘We had a run-in last week.’

  ‘And?’

  James paused before reluctantly answering. ‘And I might have said a few things I shouldn’t have. A few home truths. Nothing that wasn’t justified, mind.’

  ‘But that’s not the point. Bloody hell, bad mouthing your boss is never going to be a good idea, no matter how much of a shit he is.’

  ‘Well you don’t know Sachs.’

  ‘True, but I do know a fair bit about employment law and disciplinary procedu
res.’

  ‘Anyway, it’s all right for you.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘No offence, mate, but you don’t know what it’s like. You don’t understand the pressure. I’ve got a wife and three kids to support. I can’t afford to lose my job.’

  Tom shot him a sideways glance. ‘Then don’t piss your boss off. Anyway, you forget, I do know what it’s like. I did have a job, remember? A frigging high pressured one at that.’

  It was clear that James wasn’t listening. ‘Okay, here’s an example,’ he continued, unabated. ‘This is the kind of thing I’m talking about. Last Wednesday we had this meeting about sales, and we all got given our targets. He gives me this ridiculous figure that we both know I’m never going to hit.’

  ‘And what about everybody else?’

  ‘What about them?’

  ‘Did they get similar figures?’

  ‘All us full-timers got the same.’

  ‘Then you don’t have a leg to stand on. Or he doesn’t. He can’t sack all of you if none of you hit the target.’

  ‘Whatever. Anyway, I told him it was impossible, especially at this time of the year. Holidaymakers come into our store for phone chargers and the like, not flat screen TVs. They buy those things when they’re back home. Then I told him I couldn’t do any extra hours this month because of the baby, and he starts going on about my lack of commitment. Bloody hell, my lack of commitment! I’ve been there longer than the rest of them combined, and he has the cheek to question my commitment.’

  ‘I know what you’re going through, actually. I had a similar situation myself. I always found the best thing to do was to overachieve. It really used to piss my boss off, and she couldn’t touch me. She’d set me a target, and I’d do everything I could to blitz it without making a noise about it. In the end she was the one who got kicked out, and I ended up being promoted into her role.’

  ‘Yeah, but it was probably easier where you worked, surrounded by all those fat cats and crooks.’

  ‘Is that right? Well you could try working somewhere else.’