Devil in the Detail

by Leo McNeir

  “You’re very welcome to stay, of course,” Angela joined in. She sounded earnest. “But all the trips have ended for today. I’ll shortly be conducting a prayer meeting, though – for all denominations – if you’d like to wait a while.”

  Marnie turned. She was already praying. The last thing she wanted was for the reporter and photographer to see this confrontation. It would make real news and a photo opportunity, not just an in-filler.

  The gang stood as if nailed to the ground. One or two of them noticed that they were now almost surrounded by a large number of people. That many of them were women with children did not make the spectators appear less hostile.

  George took up the running again. “After prayers …” He stressed the word for emphasis. “After prayers, there’ll be the ceremony of breaking the flag by the scouts. That’s supposed to be at sundown, but we do it a bit earlier, sort of rounds off the day nicely. Remember you don’t salute the flag at the end of the day, just in the morning when it goes up.”

  “Please feel free to stay,” said Angela, absentmindedly fingering her dog collar. “You’re most welcome.”

  There was a silence for some seconds. Make-or-break time, Marnie thought. The problem was, the skinheads did not seem to know how to bow out of the situation. They needed a bolt hole. She half turned towards Anne and spoke in a whisper.

  “When I move, go round the crowd telling people to disperse. Do it quietly. Don’t let the skinheads see you.”

  Without further delay, Marnie walked quickly through the crowd to George and Angela.

  “Sorry to interrupt your conversation, but we need to check the order of service for prayers.” Her voice was loud and businesslike. If Angela was surprised by the question, she did not show it. Marnie continued. “Will this be evensong as usual, vicar?”

  She moved closer, her back now turned to the men who were becoming aware that the people around them were drifting away. George joined in the huddle to discuss prayer arrangements, expressing a preference for a choral evensong if they could get the choir to stay on. Angela was fighting to control her features, informing George that the Rural Dean would be attending that evening and he liked nothing more than a choral evensong. As they began moving towards the organisers’ desks, they found they were alone. The skinhead mob was walking quickly – but still menacingly – away.

  Marnie closed her eyes and breathed out heavily.

  “You two were brilliant … and brave.”

  “And trembling,” said Angela. She put a hand to her stomach. “Are you all right, George?”

  He nodded. “The old pulse is up a bit, but otherwise I’m fine, not bad for a nigger.”

  Anne arrived at speed looking troubled. “Don’t look now, but we’ve got visitors.”

  Over her shoulder they saw the reporter heading their way. Struggling to keep up, the photographer was switching cameras from his bag.

  “Wonderful,” said Marnie. “Here we are feeling shell-shocked and the press arrives. Great timing. Talk about star quality!”

  “Could’ve been worse,” George said quietly. “Three minutes ago …”

  “Star quality,” Anne muttered. She was staring into the distance as if lost in her thoughts.

  “Just a turn of phrase,” said Marnie. “And it’s a commodity we don’t have, sadly.”

  “Oh yes we do.” Anne walked away until she had passed the reporters and then took off like an Olympic sprinter.

  Marnie, Angela and George clamped cheerful expressions onto their faces and greeted the press people.

  “Still going strong, then,” said Susie Leigh, the reporter.

  Marnie shook hands and introduced her companions. “Oh, yes, thriving. We didn’t expect to see you again.”

  “We were in the area, thought we’d look in,” Susie said breezily.

  More likely had a tip-off that there could be trouble, Marnie thought. “Great. Wanting any particular details? I don’t think we’ve got anything new to tell you.”

  “Have you had any interesting reaction from the locals? We’re always on the lookout for the human angle.”

  “They don’t seem to mind us being here,” said George.

  “No adverse comments, confrontations?”

  “Would you expect us to tell you if we had?”

  “So you have had some?”

  “Look around you,” Marnie put in. “A lot of satisfied customers. Not so much as a nose bleed.”

  Behind them Anne approached with Serena and Luther in tow. She went straight up to Susie Leigh and shook hands.

  “Hallo. Have you come for the latest news? It didn’t take long to get round, did it?”

  “Latest news?” Susie looked surprised. “I thought there wasn’t anything to report.” She looked sideways at Marnie, who was expressionless.

  Anne continued. “Of course not. We weren’t going to give Serena’s story away.”

  Serena and Luther shook hands with the reporter and the photographer.

  “So, what’s the story?” Susie asked, a hint of incredulity in her voice.

  “Oh, it’s nothing really,” Serena was the picture of modesty. “It’s just, we’ve exceeded our target by over two hundred. We haven’t announced it yet, but we’ve now topped one thousand enrolments.”

  “A thousand, and you anticipated?

  “About seven-fifty.”

  Susie flipped open her notepad. “You hit that number today?”

  “Strictly speaking it was yesterday, but I only got the returns just now. We’ll be a few up again, once we’ve got all today’s sheets counted.”

  Marnie and the others withdrew slightly while Susie asked more questions and the photographer adjusted his camera.

  “Thank God for your quick thinking, Anne,” Marnie said in a low voice. “Oops, sorry Angela.”

  “No problem. I was about to say amen. And what about George? Where did you get that idea about prayers and evensong? If I hadn’t been so frightened of the skinheads, I’d have been laughing my head off.”

  “It was the first thing that came to mind. Your dog collar gave me the idea.”

  Anne said, “I told Serena and Luther what you’d done. They thought it was hilarious.”

  The photographer called over, waving them forward. “Can you all get together for a group shot?”

  “Oh no,” Marnie protested. “Just do Serena or the kids. We’ve had a long day.”

  He was protesting that he wanted something to catch the eye of the readers when a mother walked over.

  “Sorry to interrupt, but can I just ask you, vicar. What time will evensong be?”

  After a short pause, there was a burst of laughter. Angela took the mother aside and did her best to explain the subterfuge, hoping the woman would not feel offended at their reaction to her. Serena took Luther’s arm, and he inclined his head towards hers, their heads back, expressions of pure joy and happiness as they laughed together. The camera clicked several times in rapid succession.

  The photograph to appear in the newspaper next day would certainly have star quality.

  28

  The inhabitants at Glebe Farm had settled into a new routine and were now running on autopilot. Up early as usual, breakfast on Sally Ann, half an hour in the office to clear the decks of e-mails and urgent messages and then on the road to town. Serena had told Marnie that her ‘contingent’ need not feel obliged to be at the school for the departure of the coaches, but everyone wanted to be on hand to make sure the scheme was running without a hitch.

  Thursday was going to be another hot day, and humidity was rising. The morning was warm with a faint mist on the water under a clear sky. Marnie was walking the short distance from Thyrsis to Sally Ann, her hair still damp from the shower, when Dolly approached, warbling a greeting, tail up straight. She bent down to run a hand over the thick-pile fur and stroke the black velvet ears. A movement in the spinney caught her eye. Anne was arriving for breakfast. Marnie rose and was about to speak when Anne pointed beyo
nd her. Marnie turned. On the opposite bank, curtains drawn like closed eyelids on a sleeping face, X O 2 lay at her old mooring.

  “When did he get here?” said Anne.

  “No idea. First I’ve seen of him.”

  Anne held out a piece of paper. “This was tucked into the office door.”

  Marnie read: Please waken me. Any chance of a lift into town? D

  “You’d better go over and give him a call. What does he like for breakfast?”

  For a second Anne’s face was tense as if she suspected a trick question. Then she relaxed and smiled. “Sauerkraut and Wienerschnitzel, I expect.”

  “Tell him the nearest we’ve got is muesli.”

  *

  Every morning it was the same. Hundreds of children and their parents thronged the yard. Every morning brought new arrivals. The clerks at the reception desk issued forms to yet more newcomers wanting places on the outings.

  Donovan had reverted to his customary black jeans and T-shirt, but wore a baseball cap and dark glasses. His own preference was for Ray-Ban aviators – classics – but he had adopted the new style of wrap-rounds as a disguise, while he unobtrusively roamed the perimeter on the lookout for troublemakers.

  The participants were in high spirits, and the area sounded like a school playground at break time. Gradually the coaches arrived, were boarded and departed, with mothers and the occasional father giving last-minute instructions about good behaviour.

  The last coach revved its engine and pulled away from the kerb leaving an odour of diesel in the summer air as the only sign that so much transport had been there. Marnie and the Knightly St John contingent were saying their goodbyes when a lone figure trudged towards them across the tarmac. They recognised him as Buzz, one of the West Indian brigade. He looked glum.

  “What’s up?” said Serena.

  He scowled. “Teresa, my little sister, she’s been sick.”

  “How sick?”

  He shrugged. “Threw up after my mum went to work. She can’t go on her trip.”

  “Where is she now?”

  “I took her to my aunt. She’ll have her for the day till my mum gets back.”

  “Nice of you to come along,” said Marnie.

  “How old’s your sister, Teresa?” Anne asked.

  Buzz thought about it. “Nine. And really miffed. It was Alton Towers today.”

  “You did the right thing, Buzz,” said Marnie. “That’s not the place to go if you’re likely to be sick. Never mind. There’ll be other trips for her when she’s better.”

  “Yeah, but I was going with her.”

  Marnie smiled ruefully. He was probably no more than sixteen. A ringing interrupted their conversation, and Serena pulled the mobile from her bag.

  “Hi, Pat. Everything all right?”

  She listened while the others waited. They heard her mutter, and her expression grew serious.

  “Where was this? … How many were there? … Going which way … here?” She held the phone away from her ear, tilting her had back. “No I can’t … oh yes, now I do. Thanks for letting me know, Pat.”

  As she disconnected, they heard the wail of a police car siren in the distance. All faces turned to Serena.

  “It’s started.”

  *

  They decided to walk into the town centre, discussing the phone call as they went. Their group consisted of Marnie and Ralph, Anne and Donovan, Serena and Luther with Buzz tagging along. Not quite Seven Samurai, Donovan had said to Anne under his breath.

  “So what did she see?” Marnie asked.

  “It’s a he,” Serena corrected her. “Pat Sullivan, one of the youth workers. He’s on a coach to Warwick Castle. Going west out of town he noticed a line of parked coaches, thinking they might be ours. When he looked carefully he saw they were dropping off very strange people, mostly skinheads, nearly all in black or grey, some carrying flags and banners, loads of them.”

  “Did he mention what colour the flags were?”

  “He didn’t say.”

  Marnie had seen those banners before, seen the flags and the motley army.

  “This is New Force, presumably,” said Ralph.

  Two police cars roared past, their sirens drowning out Marnie’s reply. Serena was reaching for the mobile again, pressing buttons to make a call. They waited while she huddled against a wall, one finger in her ear to shut out traffic noise as she spoke. When she finished, they walked on.

  “That was the editor. The Prime Minister’s due here some time this morning. He’s going to open a new business park, with several European companies involved, then lunch with the County Council.”

  “I can guess what the headlines will be tomorrow,” Marnie chipped in. “And they won’t be about business parks or European companies.”

  “Let’s hope they’re not about mayhem on the streets of Northampton,” said Serena.

  As they walked on in silence, each absorbed in their own thoughts, Anne sidled up to Marnie and spoke quietly.

  “Where are we actually going? And what are we going to do when we get there?”

  “Good questions. I think we just want to see what’s happening. Anybody got a master plan?”

  There were no takers. They were now drawing close to the town centre, and there was still nothing to see, but gradually they were becoming aware of something in the air. At first they wondered if it might be the sound of voices chanting.

  “It’s … drumming.” Donovan was inclining his head.

  “You’re right.” Serena looked at him. “Are you armed, Donovan?”

  The question surprised them all, except Donovan. He patted the bag slung over his shoulder.

  “All set. I’ve got a new film in.”

  “You’ll have to be discreet.”

  “Don’t you worry. I’ll not risk anyone getting hold of my camera.”

  *

  The streets were eerie, practically deserted like a western movie, the set empty and expectant waiting for the gunslingers to face each other in a shootout. Marnie and the others made their way towards the drumming. It was clearer now and hung over the town like a pall of smoke. All of them were sweating, only partly from their rapid pace on the hot pavement. Marnie found herself recalling the words, it’s going to be a long hot summer. She hoped no warm guns would be involved.

  Instinct led them up towards the old racecourse and they spilled into the roadway, having the streets virtually to themselves. What little traffic they encountered was travelling away from the centre. More than one of the group was wondering why they were not doing the same.

  “Why we goin’ this way,” said Buzz, “when everybody’s goin’ that way? Maybe they know somethin’ we don’t know.”

  Serena gave him his reply. “Because this is our fight, our struggle. We have to see it through.” Her voice was hard.

  Marnie was alarmed. She alone had seen New Force on the march. Only she knew what they were facing.

  “I think we may be slightly outnumbered. Perhaps we’d better limit our ambitions to just seeing what’s going on, from a distance.”

  Serena kept looking straight in front. “We need to be close enough to bear witness, to get evidence.”

  They walked on, and the closer they came to the racecourse, the stronger was Marnie’s impression that the sound of drumming and marching was now no longer only ahead of them. Her eyes wandered down each side street that they passed, but still there were no sightings of New Force on the move. A cold hand was gripping her by the throat. She knew that Anne would be sharing the same thoughts. They had both faced violence in the past, both come close to death. Whatever Serena thought she was doing, Marnie had other plans and would not let anyone push their group into close combat with an army of thugs.

  Reaching the main road they could now see movement in the distance. The throbbing of drums was everywhere, rolling unimpeded across the flat parkland that had once been a racecourse. They were crossing the street when sirens came wailing from behind them. A p
olice car followed by two ambulances roared up, scattering the group. From the lead car an officer shouted at them from the front seat. No-one heard his words, but the message was evident. He did not have a high regard for their intelligence.

  Marnie reached the opposite pavement with Ralph, Serena and Luther. Anne had retreated to the other side of the road, Donovan and Buzz diving with her. It was time to get out, and Marnie was raising an arm to signal the trio to fall back when Serena gasped. A crowd of demonstrators was marching along some way behind them, waving flags and chanting. At the sight of potential victims a cry went up and the column broke into a run, whooping and spreading out across the full width of the street. The seven were divided now with no chance of regrouping. Marnie watched helplessly as Anne and the other two bolted back down the road from which they had come. Ralph seized her arm and pulled her away. They had no choice but to run for their lives.

  *

  Anne had gone three paces when she realised Buzz was no longer beside her. She braked and turned in one motion. He was standing still, looking back up the road.

  “Come on, this way!” she yelled at him. He swayed slightly but did not follow. “What are you doing?”

  Buzz pointed to the crossroads. “We could hide in there.” He pointed to a restored Victorian tram shelter standing on the corner at the edge of the park.

  “We’d be trapped.” She grabbed at his sleeve and pulled hard. “Come on, we’re wasting time.”

  Donovan ran back and took his other arm. They yanked him along and he fell into step. They knew he was scared. They knew they were all scared. The more space they put between themselves and the mob on the main road, the better. Anne was hoping their pursuers would lose interest and continue on their way to join the New Force army on the racecourse. She was worried about Marnie and the others, but knew she had to concentrate on getting out of this situation.

  She risked looking back and was relieved to see that the mob was not in pursuit. Suddenly she cannoned into the back of Donovan who had stopped running. He staggered forward. Anne bounced sideways, spinning off the pavement into the gutter. Pain shot up her leg as her ankle twisted.