Exclusion Zone

by Exclusion Zone (retail) (epub)

‘The only way out from most places was on foot or on the ships that used to call at the settlements to drop off supplies and pick up the wool clip. If you wanted to buy anything – soap, tobacco, chocolate or whatever – there was a settlement shop, open one afternoon a week, a company store usually run by the manager’s wife.

  ‘Whatever you wanted was debited against your wages. The rest was credited to your bank or post office account in Stanley. There was nothing to spend your money on at the settlements and they didn’t like to pay you cash in case you gambled with it. You worked long and hard and you had to keep your nose clean. If you got on the wrong side of the company’s manager you could be blacklisted throughout the islands… and if you didn’t work for the company you didn’t work at all.’

  ‘Sounds pretty much like slavery to me,’ Jane said, winning a rare smile from Bernard. ‘What did you do on your nights off?’

  ‘Well, we didn’t pop down to Stanley for a disco. We usually just sat around the cookhouse or the dormitory. On special occasions like the end of shearing, we might go up to the Big House for dinner.’ He paused. ‘You can guess what was on the menu.’

  ‘Mutton?’

  ‘Got it in one. Once a year you got a couple of weeks off, but most people saved their holidays and their money until they could afford a trip to England. We all used to call it “home” back then.’ He gave a hard-edged smile at the memory. ‘Most people still do. There’s even a council proposal to provide free trips for everyone to go to the UK every two years. They call it “social ventilation”.’

  ‘That’s where George and Agnes have just been, off to the UK to get socially ventilated. The council think it will bring us back happier citizens, but not everybody comes back, of course.’ He shot a look at a dark-haired woman sitting with her back to us.

  ‘What about schools?’ Jane said.

  Lost in his thoughts, Bernard didn’t reply, and George answered for him. ‘The bigger settlements had a school but most of them relied on itinerant teachers, like Agnes.’

  ‘I used to go all over the islands,’ Agnes said. ‘I’d stay at each settlement for three or four days, then leave the children enough work to last them until my next visit and move on to the next one. There are still half a dozen travelling teachers today.’

  ‘Sounds pretty hit and miss to me,’ Jane said. ‘We had a bit of a similar system in the outback, but teachers stayed in one place and taught us all at the same time over the radio telephone. I used to sit at the kitchen table listening to this voice coming over the RT and trying to imagine what the teacher looked like.’ She shrugged. ‘I never found out. We moved to Sydney when I was eight. My first day in a real school I nearly fainted. I never knew there were so many children in the whole world, never mind in one school.’

  ‘What did – what do the kids do when they get older?’ I asked. ‘They can’t be taught at home all the way up to A levels, can they?’

  Agnes shook her head. ‘They go to the new school in Stanley. Everyone has relatives there so they stay with them and then come back at weekends, or maybe just holidays if they live in a remote settlement.’

  ‘And before the war?’

  ‘The only decent schools were abroad, in Montevideo or England. You should ask Rose about that. She went to school in Monte.’ Agnes pointed to the dark-haired woman. ‘You should talk to her anyway, she has a few stories about the war that you might be interested to hear.’ She gave me a look but offered no further explanation.

  Puzzled, I looked over at Rose. She was tall and slim, but her face was turned away from me as she talked animatedly with a group of other women. What I could see made me curious to see the rest.

  Bernard stood up. ‘We must be going.’

  ‘Five more minutes, Bernard,’ Agnes said. ‘We don’t see you nearly often enough. George, get him another drink.’

  George was reluctant to lose any part of his audience. ‘You think we’re remote now, Sean?’ he said, laying a hand on my arm as Agnes tried to lead me away. ‘There was nothing here at all before the war. Even Stanley was a different world. It still is. Did you know that when Stanley puts the clocks forward an hour for summer time, the rest of the Falklands stays on winter time? And there are still people in Stanley today who have never visited the camp.’ He smiled at my blank expression. ‘Sorry, it’s what we call the country – the rest of the Falklands outside Stanley.’

  ‘Now, who’d like some more tea or another glass of wine, or a beer?’ Agnes said. ‘Sean, you’ve hardly touched yours.’

  ‘Tea would be fine,’ Jane said, as I struggled for a reply. ‘Let me help you.’

  ‘I wouldn’t hear of it, my dear,’ Agnes said. ‘Tell Bernard and George a bit more about Australia.’

  She steered me away from them. ‘Rose, come and meet someone.’ Rose and I stood in an awkward silence for a moment, studying each other. She looked quite unlike the other women in the room, more angular, more delicate, and far more beautiful. She had a watchful, guarded look, hinting at a secret sadness, and fatigue had left marks like bruises beneath her dark eyes. Her pale, almost translucent skin was accentuated by the colour of her jade-green dress. It had faded a little with age; it could even have been her mother’s, carefully preserved and painstakingly altered.

  She scanned my face. ‘Have we met before?’

  ‘I don’t think so. I’m sure I would have remembered.’

  A hint of colour touched her cheekbones and her smile made her look even more beautiful. She held my gaze for a second, then looked away.

  ‘Agnes said you had some interesting stories to tell about the war. I only know what I’ve read and heard about it back in England, and I’d like to know a lot more.’

  She did not reply, but as she continued to study my face, a different look came into her eyes, almost as if she had found the key to a mystery. The colour in her cheeks heightened a little further.

  ‘If you’d rather not talk about it.’

  ‘Oh no, it’s not that. I – I just wonder if now is the right moment.’

  ‘Another time then,’ I said, not sure what was expected of me.

  ‘That would be better. I’m sorry to be so cryptic, I just feel a bit awkward about it somehow, with all these people around.’ She hesitated and seemed about to say more when Bernard appeared at her elbow. ‘Time to go.’

  Rose resisted the pressure on her arm for a moment. ‘You’re in the Falklands for some time yet, Sean?’

  ‘Four months.’

  ‘Then please come and see us.’ She gestured towards Jane. ‘Both of you.’ She looked to Bernard for confirmation.

  There was a momentary pause, then he gave a slow nod. ‘You’ll be welcome.’ His eyes conveyed a different message.

  ‘Black Beck House, above Cattle Creek. The telephone number’s 102,’ Rose said, as he hustled her away. ‘But just call in, we’re always there.’

  I stood watching her all the way to the door.

  ‘Penny for your thoughts,’ Jane said. ‘Why are men always such suckers for that vulnerable look? And don’t bullshit me, I know you too well.’

  Agnes’s approach spared me from the need to find a reply. ‘You didn’t have much time to talk to Rose, I’m afraid.’

  ‘No, Bernard was soon on patrol.’

  ‘They had the evening work to do on the farm.’ She paused. ‘You shouldn’t judge Bernard on first impressions. His manner’s a little abrupt, I know, but he’s a good man at heart and a very hard-working one. Their land is marginal even by Falklands standards and he’s sweated blood to improve it. He works all the hours that God gives, but if ever a neighbour were in trouble’ – her gaze rested on George for a moment – ‘Bernard would be the first there to lend a hand.’ She looked up and smiled. ‘Anyway, do make the effort to talk to Rose again. George and I saw very little of the war. The Argentinians herded us down to Goose Green with most of the other farmers and penned us in the shearing sheds like our own sheep, but Rose’s family were on their farm throu
ghout the worst of the fighting.’

  ‘I’ll definitely talk to her,’ I said; ‘and now I’m afraid we really must be going ourselves.’

  The speed with which Jane set off to collect our coats suggested she was in general agreement with the idea.

  ‘Thanks for inviting us, Agnes,’ I said. ‘I’ve enjoyed it, I really have, and I’m touched that you should invite two strangers into your home and make us so welcome.’

  ‘There are no strangers here, my dear, just friends we haven’t yet met. I hope you’ll come and see us again before you leave. And I hope you find what you’re seeking.’

  I hesitated, uncertain whether it was a traditional Falklands farewell or one directed at me alone, but Jane had returned before I could reply. Our departure seemed to be the signal for a general exodus, and I had no chance to speak to Agnes again.

  Several of the farmers directed shy, wistful looks at Jane as we said our goodbyes and a couple of the bolder ones planted wet, smacking kisses on her cheek.

  As we drove off down the track she burst out laughing. ‘I’ll never complain about another boring night in the Mess again.’ She shot me a sidelong glance. ‘You seemed to be enjoying yourself, though. You should have seen the looks Bernard was shooting at your back before he barged over and reclaimed his blushing bride.’

  ‘You should have run interference for me.’

  ‘With Bernard? I like the strong, silent types, not the psychotic, speechless ones. Anyway, I didn’t notice you rushing to rescue me when Agnes dumped me in the middle of the Young Farmers’ Club. Most of them were so paralysed with shyness they could barely speak and the ones who did could have bored for Britain. One of them was such a disgusting lech that he kept asking me if I was wearing suspenders and squeezing my thigh to find out. I’d have decked him, but I was on my best behaviour today, so I just asked him to point out his wife to me. He went white – which was quite an achievement for a man with a face like an overripe beetroot – and didn’t say another word.’ She paused. ‘So, were Rose’s war stories up to much, or were you too busy salivating to notice?’

  ‘She didn’t tell me any. She said she didn’t want to talk about it in front of lots of people.’

  ‘I knew it. She’s trying to get you alone.’

  I shook my head. ‘I felt that both she and Agnes knew something…’ My voice petered out. ‘I can’t really explain.’

  She touched my arm. ‘Sorry, I’m just being flippant when you want to be serious.’

  I drove on in silence for a few minutes, straining my eyes to pick out the line of the road in the darkness. There were no marker posts, white lines, reflectors or cats’ eyes to help me and mud and peat washed down from the slopes had stained the surface to almost the same colour as the surrounding land. I braked involuntarily at each slight bend, rise or dip as the road disappeared momentarily and the beam of the headlights dissolved into a void. It was the only light visible in the whole sweep of land and sea.

  A painted skull and crossbones flared white in the headlights and I braked: ‘DANGER! MINEFIELD! Keep To The Road. Do Not Enter Fenced Area. Special Care Must Also Be Taken On Beaches And Rivers Adjacent To Fenced Areas. All parts of the Falkland Islands may contain dangerous materials and ammunition. Do not touch anything suspicious. Place a marker nearby and report it to the Joint Services OED Operations Centre, manned 24 hours a day. Tel: Civil 229, BFFI 2393.’

  Beyond the sign, I could see the dull glint of barbed wire. ‘Sixteen years since the war and they still haven’t cleared them.’

  ‘They’ve cleared a lot of them,’ Jane said, ‘and they’d probably do the rest if they knew where to find them. The Argentinians didn’t even map the minefields and it’s a bit much to ask some bomb-disposal bloke to risk his life to clear an area just so that one or two people a year can go for a stroll there.’

  I stared at the sign for a moment, then turned the engine and lights off and opened the door.

  ‘Where the hell are you going?’

  ‘Not for a walk, that’s for sure. I want to look at the stars.’

  After a moment I heard Jane’s door open and her hesitant footsteps as she groped her way round the car to stand at my side.

  There was no moon but the night was clear, crisp and very cold, with only a few small patches of cloud, racing from west to east. My breath fogged in the air before being blown away on the wind.

  I had flown jets all over the northern hemisphere and as far south as the Gulf, but until that moment I had never set eyes on a clear, southern night sky before. I had never seen so many stars in my life. The whole sky seemed filled from horizon to horizon. It was veiled with a faint glow of light, pierced by the diamond-hard shine of individual stars.

  It was an awesome, but disturbing, sight. The familiar constellations, as fixed and immutable in my mind as the points of the compass, had disappeared. In their place was a profusion of utterly different clusters and constellations, as if the whole earth had been thrown out of its orbit into some far reach of the galaxy.

  I thought how terrible it would be to die here, so far from home that even the heavens were unrecognisable. Finally I discovered a couple of familiar constellations, though even they appeared distorted.

  Jane slipped her warm hand into mine. ‘Makes you realise how far away you are, doesn’t it? It’s how I felt when I first came to Britain, but this feels like home to me. When it was really hot in Guneela I used to sleep outside on the decking. I’d lie awake listening to the cicadas and watching the sky darken. Moonless nights there were as black as your hat, but I’ve never seen as many stars as this. Even a hole in the ozone layer’s got its good si—’ She broke off, staring upwards, entranced. ‘Wow! Look at that.’

  There was a streak of light towards the northern horizon, then another and another, as a trail of shooting stars blazed its way to oblivion. As the last fragment of the meteor shower flared then faded, I became increasingly conscious of the pressure of Jane’s hand on mine.

  Faintly illuminated, her face was turned towards me. I hesitated for a second, feeling my heartbeat quicken as I held my breath, then I stepped away from her and released her hand. Her fingers sliding over mine felt like a caress.

  ‘Come on,’ I said, ‘we’ll have to get back.’

  I could feel her gaze on my face as we drove in silence down the rutted track towards Mount Pleasant.

  ‘Let’s have a beer before we turn in,’ Jane said, as I drove in through the main gates.

  I hesitated, reluctant at first, then nodded. ‘Okay.’

  ‘Not the Mess though,’ she said. ‘It’ll be heaving with people and I’m not really in the mood for that. Why don’t we try out the Fighter Town fridge? With luck there won’t be anyone else there until the Mess shuts.’

  I pulled up outside the Death Star, dutifully parking the Land Rover facing out, with the keys in.

  Fighter Town was in darkness, but I flicked on the lights and grabbed a couple of cans from the fridge. We sat facing each other in two of the battered armchairs. Jane watched me for a moment. ‘Tell me something about your brother.’

  I shrugged. ‘He died a long time ago. You’d hear plenty about him if you visited my mum and dad’s place though. It’s like a shrine, but with Mike in place of the Virgin Mary. They must have about twenty silver-framed photographs of him, including a huge one over the fireplace of him in his dress uniform at his passing-out parade. There are three spotlights trained on it. It’s like everything else in the room is in darkness.’ I smiled. ‘There’s only one picture of me in the room, and even that’s one of me and Mike together.’

  She rested a hand on my arm for a moment. ‘That’s tactless of them, but it’s the way it goes, even among the living. The child who’s a long way away – particularly if they’re on the other side of the world – always seems more precious to parents than the one in front of them.

  ‘I’m the beneficiary of that in our family, but I do know all about trying to compete on an uneven pl
aying field. Everyone from my headmaster to my dad and my sister told me I was crazy to think about joining the Air Force. The head wanted me to stay on at school and go to university, and my dad and my sister both thought the Air Force was no place for a woman, though for different reasons.

  ‘My dad, bless him, is scared shitless of flying. He’s never even been to an airport, let alone got in an aircraft, and he couldn’t bear the thought of his precious daughter risking her neck in one. My sister thought I’d be beaten down by a bunch of blinkered sexists. She was half-right, there’s no shortage of those, but I haven’t let the bastards grind me down yet. I get sick of it sometimes, though. It’s always the same. You don’t just have to be as good as the men, you have to be better than them. And even then, you still get a few tiresome wankers who think you must have screwed the squadron boss to get there.’ She gave a toss of her head, shaking her hair back from her eyes. ‘Anyway, stuff them.’

  She paused and gave a rueful smile. ‘I’m sorry, we were talking about you and, as usual, I managed to steer the conversation straight round to me. Tell me some more about Mike. I can’t imagine how hard it must be to have to compete with someone else’s memory.’

  ‘You can’t. Compete, I mean. How could you? I felt like I almost had to apologise to my parents for surviving, for not being the one who died.’

  ‘Was he killed here?’

  I nodded.

  There was the sound of voices and unsteady footsteps in the corridor and a moment later the door crashed open. Shark, Rees and Jimmy burst in, their faces flushed with drink. ‘Oops,’ Shark said. ‘Not disturbing anything, are we? If you were just about to have sex, don’t let us stop you.’

  Jane rolled her eyes. ‘I can only think of one thing worse than having sex with you watching, Shark.’ She paused. ‘And that’s having sex with you.’

  He opened the fridge and tossed her another can. ‘I love it when you talk dirty.’

  I stood up. ‘I’ll pass on another beer, thanks, Shark. I don’t want to cramp your style. See you in the morning.’

  Jane opened her mouth to say something, then changed her mind and shook her head. ‘Forget it. I’ll see you tomorrow.’ She ripped off the ring pull and took a swig of her beer.