by Robin Crumby
“I’m afraid I’m not following you. So where’s the problem? What does this all have to do with Hurst?”
“I’m coming to that, hold on.”
“Perhaps you don’t realise, but we are working day and night. We’ve done everything we’ve been asked to do.”
“I know Jack, no one’s questioning your commitment. But the creation of Camp Wight has created a humanitarian disaster-zone right on our door step. We all have to deal with the consequences.”
“If you’re suggesting that we’re not pulling our weight? If this is some sort of lecture Captain…”
“Not exactly Jack, no,” he interrupted.
“Because if it is, then with all due respect, I don’t want to hear it. I should remind you that it’s us who are on the front line. We’re the people who find bodies washed up on the beach every day. We have to deal with all the crazy people trying to make the crossing to the island on anything that floats: dinghies, rowing boats, lilos, rubber rings. It’s lunacy. For every person we turn back or rescue, ten more make it across. We’re doing our best here. We have twenty-four hour patrols, but in the darkness, without proper equipment, it’s virtually impossible to catch them all.”
Armstrong held his hand up in an attempt to placate Jack who felt his hackles rising at the thought that their efforts were going unappreciated.
“And that’s my point,” said Armstrong with some finality. “With Portsmouth under the control of the Royal Navy and the Americans in charge at Southampton, we believe a predominantly civilian operation at Hurst is no longer feasible.”
“Surely that’s why you stationed two squads of marines there in the first place? Isn’t that enough?”
“I’m afraid the Americans don’t share your optimism, Jack.”
“So what are they proposing then?”
Armstrong sighed and delivered the killer punch Jack had been dreading.
“They are proposing a full militarisation of Hurst. All civilians will be evacuated to the island in the coming weeks. They have allowed for a phased withdrawal to give your team time to make the necessary plans.”
“That’s not going to be popular,” grimaced Jack. “People have worked for more than two years to build that place into a sustainable community, a place they can call home. You realise that, right?”
“I’m afraid there’s nothing much we can do about that. It’s for the greater good Jack, I hope you can understand. This is bigger than Hurst. The security of the island is paramount. Your people will be treated fairly, housed and accommodated on the island.”
“Let’s not kid ourselves, Captain,” sneered Jack. “We all know what happens on the island.”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Oh you know. Martial law, forced labour.”
“I don’t know where you heard that. I can assure you it’s not true.”
“We’ve all heard the rumours. Everyone on the island works, they get assigned to groups that fit their skill sets and experience. Those that work get to eat. Those that don’t fit in get reassigned to the mainland. Are you seriously telling me that we’ll be allowed to stay together, that the children will not get sent somewhere else?”
“I’m sure they’ll do their best to keep you all together. They’re not insensitive to the shared interest of families and friends who want to stay together. Anyway, there are whole villages in the south and west of the island that are being reserved for key workers.”
“Is that what we are? Key workers?”
“You know what I mean, Jack. I can put in a good word, see what can be done. But listen, you’re right. On the island, people work. It’s no holiday park, it’s a new start. It’s a massive operation that’s only going to get bigger as our focus expands to the mainland.”
“And what if we refuse to leave Hurst?”
Armstrong looked surprised momentarily, caught off guard. He seemed to stiffen a little at this veiled threat to his authority. He recovered his composure almost immediately. His reputation for political astuteness was well known and respected amongst the council. Jack knew he was playing a dangerous game.
Armstrong leaned in and lowered his voice.
“Jack. We both know that no one can force you to do anything. Your voice on the council is highly regarded as is your team at Hurst. No one is going to do anything to jeopardise the special relationship we have with you. But that said, if you’re not able to secure the western approaches, then one way or another, steps must be taken, with or without your cooperation.”
Jack clenched his fists tighter, waiting for the officer to continue.
“Listen, we both knew that sooner or later it would come to this. Hurst is isolated. It’s an outpost. The more people that flock to the South coast, the harder it will be to maintain security there. The only place where we can guarantee everyone’s safety is on the island. I wouldn’t be surprised if, in a few months, we’ll need to evacuate everyone. Living there will be untenable. As resources dwindle, it will get a little harder every day. Your team will need to scavenge further and further inland for supplies. Jack, you must realise that you have a choice. It doesn’t have to be like that. Right across the water your team can be safe. A fresh start for all. You must see that.”
Jack sighed, an air of weary resignation creeping over him. Despite the enormous sense of pride he felt after everything they had achieved, he had learned the hard way that Hurst was vulnerable. Even with soldiers stationed at the castle, sooner or later, they could expect more attacks. Armstrong was right, it was only a matter of time.
“This is going to be hard to hear for many of them. How long can you give us?”
“Not much. We’re out of time Jack. I have another squad of marines coming over today. In the short term, they have some additional hardware and equipment to make the castle more secure. They’ll take charge, oversee the handover. Free up your team to farm, scavenge and all that other good stuff you do. Can I count on you Jack? I need your full cooperation for this to work.”
“Captain, whether we like it or not, we are all in this together. You can count on our support. But if your people think they’re going to be welcome at Hurst, think again.”
“That’s something we’ll just have to accept. I suggest we get the Hurst team together as soon as possible and let them know. As soon as they see the next squad of soldiers arriving and the equipment they’re bringing, the grapevine will go into overdrive, believe you me.”
The two men leaned on the railing looking out in to the growing darkness where Hurst’s crumbling walls were still visible against the skyline. Jack drained his cup and closed his eyes for a second. It had a been a long day and the warm glow of success was now tinged with foreboding. How on earth was he going to break this news to the others?
CHAPTER NINE
Riley and Zed led Sister Imelda through the castle gates to puzzled looks from passers-by. The sight of a stranger, arriving alone, so late in the day, not to mention dressed in a nun’s habit, seemed totally incongruous. Passing the canteen where people were beginning to gather for dinner, there was a subdued buzz of conversation and whispering. Riley held the door open and they retraced their steps back through the Tudor gate, across the courtyard and up the outside staircase towards the reception room upstairs in the Gun Tower, where she had been reading earlier.
Tommy stood aside and made way for them to pass. He was laughing about something or other with a youth who seemed to have become his companion of choice recently, supplanting his old friend Sam. He had changed out of his wet clothes but still looked weather-beaten, his face raw and salt-streaked. As if noticing the stranger for the first time as they climbed the steps, Tommy called out.
“Aren’t you going to introduce me?”
The party stopped and looked down at him over the railing.
“I’m sorry Tommy,” apologised Riley. “This is Sister Imelda from the Chewton Glen Hotel. You know, the group Jean was with before coming here. Can you do me a favour
and go and find her for me? We need to speak to her.”
Sister Imelda inclined her head respectfully as Tommy studied her, blinking. He clicked his fingers remembering, as a big grin spread across his face. Joe’s salubrious stories about his time at the hotel had proven quite popular with the younger men.
“Nice to meet you, Sister. It’s…” he paused as if searching for the right word, “an honour to have you here.”
He was looking her up and down. “Well, if you ever need a volunteer to escort you home, I would be happy to oblige,” said Tommy playfully.
Zed stifled a laugh.
“Excuse our friend,” interrupted Riley. “He’s not the sharpest tool in the box.”
Sister Imelda didn’t seem to know how to respond, unsure whether he was making fun of her. She stared at him suspiciously before taking her leave, bowing her head and following Zed down the dimly-lit corridor. He held the large oak door open for the pair of them. Stepping inside it was noticeably warmer, lit by candles and the warm glow of a crackling log fire. Riley offered the Sister a seat but she declined, preferring to remain standing.
There was an awkward silence while they waited for the Sister to collect her thoughts.
“Perhaps you can enlighten us as to why you are really here, Sister?” asked Riley suspiciously.
“I’m grateful for you receiving me at this late hour. I had hoped to arrive a little earlier, but the journey took longer than I had expected,” she adjusted the folds of her skirt, looking up at Riley. “I’ve come here to see Jean. There’s something I need to talk to her about.”
“I very much doubt that Jean will want to talk you, though,” mumbled Zed testily.
“To come all this way, alone, just before nightfall, it seems incredibly risky.”
“My escorts camped at a safe house in Milford for the night. I thought it better that I came alone.”
“I see. So, where have you been hiding all this time?” said Riley.
“We’ve not been hiding, we simply had our hands full,” said the Sister, eyebrows raised. “After what happened at the hotel, we couldn’t stay there any longer. There were too many bad memories, too much sadness.”
She looked down at her hands, straightening the folds of her habit, before continuing. “I heard you came looking for us.”
“I came looking for Stella. How is she?” Her face brightened at the thought of her friend. “Did she have the baby already?”
“Stella is fine. She’s being well looked after.”
“And the baby?”
Sister Imelda’s face softened into a smile. “Adam,” she said inclining her head. “She had a beautiful little boy.”
Zed was nodding, looking very pleased with himself, as if he’d won a private bet. Riley sighed, doing her best to ignore him. She wished so much that she could be with Stella right now.
“When can we meet him - the baby?”
“I’m afraid that’s out of the question,” said the Sister dismissively. “After everything that happened, Sister Theodora would never allow it.”
“I hardly think that’s up to the Sister, do you?” added Zed, waving away Riley’s protest.
“Where are mother and baby now?”
“Somewhere safe, look, I’m sorry, I didn’t come here to talk about Stella, I came to speak with Jean.”
“All in good time. As I’m sure you can imagine, we might be more inclined to accommodate your request if you could facilitate ours. Sort of, you scratch our back and we’ll scratch yours,” offered Zed, his eyebrows raised.
There was a loud knock at the door which opened, without waiting for an answer. In the darkness beyond, Riley recognised the shape of Tommy and two others she assumed were Jean and Joe. Zed nodded and waved them in.
Seeing the Sister in the flesh again, Jean froze in the doorway. The colour seemed to drain from her face. Jean remained fixed to the spot, hiding behind Joe, reluctant to go any further.
The Sister swept towards Jean in a swirl of wool and wooden beads. She clasped both of Jean’s hands and ushered her gently into the room, turning to face Zed and Riley.
“May I speak with Jean alone?” she implored.
“I’m sorry,” said Riley, “I think Jean would rather we stayed.”
Jean nodded, reaching for Joe’s hand and looking anxiously at Riley for support.
“Very well,” said Sister Imelda, turning to address the young girl. “Jean, we’ve all been very worried about you. What possessed you to run away? To help those men escape? I will never know. I can only assume that Seamus and the others talked you into it.”
“Jean should never have been allowed to spend time with that man in the first place,” started Joe before Riley pleaded with him to let the Sister continue.
Riley noticed Jean’s discomfort, staring at her shoes and wringing her hands. She was refusing to look the Sister in the eye.
“You do realise that seven women died in that fire. Countless others suffered life-changing injuries they’ll never recover from. People are naturally suspicious that you ran away that night. What were you thinking? I don’t suppose you were thinking at all, were you? You stupid child.”
“Okay, I think that’s enough,” intervened Riley her palm raised. “She knows that what she did was wrong.”
“Wrong? It was nothing short of murder.”
“You can’t seriously be suggesting that Jean started the fire on purpose?”
“That’s exactly what people have been saying. And it’s only fit and right that Jean is brought back to stand trial for what she did. We need to get to the bottom of what happened and why. Only Jean knows the truth.”
“That’s not going to happen,” said Joe, stepping forward in between Jean and the Sister. “There’s no way Jean is being taken anywhere against her will.”
The Sister held her ground, snorting in disapproval.
“It hardly surprises me that you, of all people, won’t allow it. You are as much to blame as Jean is.”
Riley tried to defuse the mounting tension between the pair.
“Look, we’ve been here before. Last time you accused all of us of being involved and we gave you our assurances that we had nothing to do with it. I’ve told you before and I’ll tell you again, we had nothing to do with the fire or with the men’s escape. For a start, your group locked us in a room for the night, for goodness sake.”
“We accept that you all had no direct involvement. Which just leaves Jean, no one else could have done this.”
“And it hasn’t occurred to you that the fire was just an unfortunate, terrible accident?”
“This was no accident. We have proof.”
“Proof? What proof? You have nothing,” said Joe testily.
The Sister waved him away, refusing to listen to any more of their excuses. She wagged her finger at Riley.
“I can see I’m wasting my time with you. Who’s in charge here anyway? If you refuse to listen to reason, then perhaps someone else will.”
“You really are a piece of work, aren’t you?” interrupted Zed. “Who do you think you are, breezing in here and bossing everyone around?”
“Do I really need to remind you that we took you in, saved your life, nursed you back to health? Is this how you repay that kindness?”
“Perhaps you’re forgetting that you locked up this man. Suggested Joe was a danger to others. Treated him like an animal, a ‘breeder’? Accused us all of murder. Is that really what we should be grateful for?”
Joe seemed uncomfortable with Riley speaking on his behalf, shrugging as if to say that it wasn’t all bad. Riley batted away his levity.
“I think we’re done here, don’t you?” said Riley as she turned to face the young girl. “Jean, you don’t need to listen to another word. Let’s go.”
“I’m not leaving until I’ve spoken to your leader,” said the Sister, crossing her arms, finally sitting down. “Perhaps you would let him know I’m here.”
“I’ll let Jack know. B
ut you’re wasting your time.”
“We’ll see about that, won’t we?” sneered the Sister.
Riley and Zed rose from their seats and with one last scornful look at the Sister, slammed the door behind them.
They headed downstairs to the canteen in search of Jack. Down here, the smell of cooking was over-powering. A heady and not altogether pleasant smell of stewed vegetables. It reminded Riley of school sports halls and boys’ changing rooms. Three long wooden tables were set out with bench-seats on either side. Elbow to elbow were sat more than fifty men, women and children, giving in to their hunger, slurping stew in near silence. Scottie looked up at their approach, his face shrouded in steam. He looked concerned, trying to get a sense of how the meeting had gone. Riley shook her head in disappointment.
She scanned the room but Jack was nowhere to be seen. She learned from Sam that he was still on his way back to the castle after this morning’s salvage mission. He was expected within the hour. He had asked Sam to gather everyone together. They had Captain Armstrong coming to address them, some important announcement.
“An announcement?” mused Zed. “I wonder what the old man has gone and agreed to now?”
“I dread to think,” puzzled Riley, rolling her eyes.
CHAPTER TEN
Back on dry land, Jack limped through the castle gates and into the shelter and relative peace of the courtyard. His hip was still hurting from where he had slammed into the Santana’s hull when climbing aboard during the storm.
Ahead of him was the canteen and dining area, freshly rebuilt, its timbers repainted in navy blue. Above the doorway, there remained the scorch marks from the inferno that had torn through here during the attack. It was a fitting reminder of those who had lost their lives defending the castle, many of whom had been gunned down in cold blood. He still blamed himself that he hadn’t been here to oversee the defence of the castle, that their preparations had proven so inadequate. He had promised himself that would never happen again. He would never let down his guard.