Hindy sighed. ‘Young man, take our advice and leave. This is not your house; you have no rights here. When Mr Barton discovers your presence, he will be sure to take action.’
‘He can’t evict us by force, man. He has to get a possession order.’ Dan was on confident ground again, delivering the rubric with authority. ‘There are protocols, you see.’
‘Not if he has a gun,’ Ata pointed out, amiably.
Luden chuckled at the idea, but Dan had recovered himself and was scathing.
‘Flushing pheasants? Hunting to hounds? Oh, come on, man. He’s not going to shoot us,’ he snapped at them irritably. ‘I don’t see what you’ve got to do with it, anyway. You’ve not told me who you are, or anything. What’s it to you if we’re squatting?’
Hindy raised his eyebrows at his colleagues. ‘It has a great deal to do with us, young man. A great deal.’
‘You want to join us, man, is that it? You want to be part of the new generation?’
‘We simply cannot allow this kind of intrusion,’ Hindy replied, steadily.
‘They’ve changed the cupboard,’ Ata said. He held quite still, the keys quiet. ‘There.’ He stared at a point on the old unit next to the stove.
Dan started to laugh. ‘Home improvements, you see – part of the bargain.’ But he felt the men stiffen. ‘Oh, come on – all we did was make a handle, man, so we could store our stuff in there. We just twisted a bit of string.’
Hindy glanced at Luden. ‘It appears rather a singular situation, requiring careful consideration.’
‘Get rid of them.’ Luden shrugged.
‘Yes, indeed. But an affair of this nature… if we’re not careful… Perhaps – young man, could you summon your colleague?’
Dan shook his head. ‘I’m not “summoning” anyone. It doesn’t work like that, man. There’s no one in charge here; it’s a democracy.’ He waited for them to respond, but they went on looking at him in silence. He shifted his weight and pushed at the bridge of his spectacles again. ‘What about a compromise? I could take you up if you like, to the squat.’
‘Stairs.’ Luden thrust his head sharply towards the ceiling. ‘I’m not climbing stairs.’
‘I know, old chap, I know.’ Hindy put an arm on Luden’s shoulder. ‘But it might be for the best you know.’
Ata added encouragement. ‘We’ll be rid of them all the quicker.’
Something about the performance was suddenly intimidating. Dan broke from them and went to the door. ‘Do what you like,’ he said. ‘I’m going up anyway.’
Hindy coughed loudly. ‘Haven’t you forgotten something?’
Dan paused. ‘What? No. What on earth—’
‘Your kettle, young man.’
‘I don’t want that, man. Not now.’
‘But it’s fully boiled,’ Ata pointed out. ‘You can’t waste it.’
Dan looked across to the kettle as though it might be the most remarkable of objects. ‘Look, leave the flipping kettle, man. If you want to come up, then come up. Otherwise…’ He rolled his eyes and ran his hand through his hair. ‘It’s no big deal.’
He did not meet their gaze. Instead, he flung a final glance at the kettle and left the kitchen, his steps slapping on the tiles.
After a moment, the men followed, Luden’s breath coming in short, loud puffs. They did not keep pace with Dan but pushed slowly through the echoes he left behind, climbing the stairs with difficulty, finally squeezing three abreast into the confines of the bedroom corridor. The bunch of keys jangled on Ata’s arm like the rusting chains of tortured phantoms.
Dan and Gadiel sat on the bed; the three men brought in chairs and positioned them at intervals around the room.
‘You’ve made some changes,’ Hindy began. ‘Aside from the obvious removal of furniture and the matter of general detritus, there’s a cracked floorboard, I believe, and an improvised repair to the windowframe.’
‘One of the doorknobs in the corridor has been reattached,’ Ata added, sharply.
The men looked at each other. They did not smile; Ata closed his eyes, resting his head against the thick flock of the wallpaper and tucking his legs tightly together, trapping the keys between his knees.
‘You live here, don’t you?’ Gadiel was pleasant. ‘On the estate. I’ve seen you coming to the house. I’ve seen… Ellie, she…’ It sounded too much as though he might have been spying. ‘It’s nice to meet you.’
‘Yes, we live here,’ Hindy replied. ‘We’re prisoners of war.’
Dan laughed and rolled into the slump of the bed.
‘I don’t understand,’ Gadiel said.
Hindy began wearily, as though the old story was worthless. ‘We were incarcerated here at Marlford in 1914. We arrived within weeks of each other and, being considered a threat to British interests, we were placed here securely as aliens. I am German, of Russian decent; my friend here, Luden, is Austrian; and Ata is a Turk. At the beginning, during the war, there were many more of us and we were kept quite separate from the house but, after Armistice, everyone went away, quite suddenly, and those of us who remained made a home here. When Mr Barton returned, he chose a few of us as companions. We continue to live in the hutments of the old prisoner-of-war camp, on the southern flank of the estate towards the main road; we consider ourselves residents of Marlford.’
Luden and Ata appeared content with the summary.
For a moment, no one spoke; it seemed too fantastic a thing to begin on.
Dan broke the quiet first. ‘I don’t understand, man. Do you mean – really… do you mean prisoners?’ He seemed to be accusing them of something.
Hindy was unperturbed. ‘Yes. I believe I’ve given a full explanation.’
‘But you just stayed?’ Gadiel added, more gently. ‘Why on earth didn’t you go home? Why did you stay at Marlford?’
‘We became fond of the place,’ Hindy replied. ‘We had established ourselves here and had very little reason to leave. And Mr Barton took an interest in us.’
‘We took an interest in him,’ Luden said.
Hindy smiled. ‘Indeed.’
‘On Mr Barton’s recommendation, we adopted new names.’ Hindy made the introduction, indicating each of them in turn. ‘I became Hindenburg, my friend here became Ludendorff, and that gentleman became Atatürk.’ He looked at Dan, taking in his blank expression. ‘You’re probably too young to understand the significance of the names, but in 1918, during the war, these were the names of important men, military strategists. Powerful men.’
‘I’ve heard of Hindenburg – wasn’t there a line or something?’ Gadiel asked. ‘Or a wall?’
The men were silent.
‘Yeah, well, I know the names,’ Dan said, his confidence unconvincing. ‘It’s just I don’t see the point.’
‘It helped him remember us, I think,’ Ata explained.
Luden sniffed a dry laugh. ‘He believed he had the enemy under his nose, where he could keep an eye on it.’
‘But you don’t still use those names… after all this time?’ Gadiel asked.
‘Of course we do. It’s part of being here, for us. Marlford has made us who we are,’ Hindy replied. ‘I’m not sure I can remember what I was called before.’
‘I am the same,’ Ata agreed.
‘That’s impossible.’ Dan knelt up on the bed, shoving a curl of hair angrily from his forehead. ‘Everyone remembers their own name. I don’t believe you.’
The men’s gaze was steady.
‘It’s not impossible, young man.’ Hindy sat up straighter, a challenge. ‘It’s as we’ve told you it is.’
‘No way, man. Listen—’
Gadiel intervened. ‘And there’s just you three; there’s no one else… no other prisoners?’
Hindy kept his eyes on Dan, but answered pleasantly enough. ‘There are three of us remaining. The majority of prisoners were rehoused or deported, or just went away. There were four of us originally who stayed: one of our number died eleven years ago, from a
n aggressive form of cancer.’
‘I think you’re lying,’ Dan said. ‘I think you’re having us on, man. It can’t be right. It doesn’t make sense. No one would stay so long.’
‘Indeed. It is a long time. A lifetime,’ Hindy agreed. ‘We’re old men now.’
‘You do mean the First World War?’ Gadiel asked.
‘I do. During the Second World War, they established a small military unit here at Marlford, but that was different, quite different. And by then we were established as Mr Barton’s companions. We arrived, as I have outlined, at the beginning of the conflict in 1914. We’ve been here for fifty-five years.’ Hindy sat stiffly, upright and smart, his tweed jacket neat. The shabbiness of the room seemed suddenly significant, the stains and cracks, the tears and blots and chips betraying the illusion of permanence.
‘But all this time?’ Dan narrowed his eyes, pushing at the rim of his spectacles, still doubtful.
‘We regard it as time well spent. We couldn’t have done better,’ Ata replied. ‘What could we have done that would have been better?’
‘You could have gone somewhere. Got jobs. Lived lives – man, I don’t know. Surely there was something you wanted to do?’
The men sat back in their chairs. There was a moment of quiet.
‘There is nothing we have ever wanted more than this,’ Hindy said.
Gadiel spoke quietly, with reverence. ‘I can’t imagine what it’d be like. To be here all that time.’
Hindy smiled. ‘We’ve rather enjoyed it.’
‘Oh, come on!’ Dan slapped his palm against the bedpost, affronted by their games. Tiny flakes of rotting fabric floated around him. ‘How could you enjoy it? You said you were prisoners.’
‘Indeed. We were.’ Hindy stretched, preparing to rise, a signal. The other men shifted in their seats. ‘But that was a long time ago. I was simply recounting our history for you. As a matter of interest. But you should know that we really are quite happy with arrangements as they stand. Quite happy. Our freedom is in no way curtailed.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Now, we should report your presence to Mr Barton.’
Dan slid from the bed with a thud. ‘Wait! When I brought you up, you said you wanted to talk.’
‘We’ve decided the best thing is to tell Mr Barton,’ Hindy continued.
‘What do you mean? You can’t have decided! There’s not been any kind of discussion, man.’
‘We’ve seen enough,’ Luden said.
‘If we told you about ourselves, perhaps…’ Gadiel began. ‘Would that help? If we explained our intentions?’
‘I don’t think that interests us,’ Ata answered.
‘Your intentions are clear,’ added Luden.
‘How? How can they be? If you won’t talk – if you won’t listen…’ Dan flapped a frustrated hand at them. ‘Why did you bother coming up if you’re just going to sit there?’
‘We wanted to see what was going on. We wanted to consider. And we’ve considered,’ Hindy explained, evenly. ‘And now we shall inform Mr Barton of your presence here, and recommend action.’
‘No way! You’ve no right to do that, man.’
‘Isn’t the purpose of a squat to confront ingrained social customs? To publicly advocate an alternative means of domestic organisation?’ Hindy smiled. ‘And isn’t the effectiveness of such a gesture rather diminished if the existence of the squat remains a secret?’
‘More like a camping holiday,’ Ata said.
‘It’s not a gesture, it’s more than that and’ – Dan tugged at the bridge of his spectacles – ‘we’re just starting. We’re the advance guard, that’s all, man. There are others coming.’
‘We hadn’t decided how to tell them – Ellie and Mr Barton,’ Gadiel explained. ‘You see, it’s not a personal attack on them in any way…’
Luden stretched out the stiffness in his hands. ‘I don’t want to waste time. I want to get this finished; it’s dragged on long enough.’ He glared at Dan. ‘You’re intruding.’
Ata stood now, too. His keys clinked.
‘But you don’t have the right to do this,’ Dan protested. ‘It’s a betrayal – of our efforts, of our common situation.’
‘We have very little in common with your situation,’ Hindy replied.
‘But you do! Don’t you see? You’re the oppressed, man, like us. You explained – you’re prisoners here.’
‘You don’t appear very oppressed,’ said Ata.
Dan was loud. ‘You don’t know what you’re doing. Come on, think about it. You haven’t thought it through.’
‘You’ll find we’ve thought it through entirely,’ Luden replied.
The men smiled at Dan’s anger, a ripple of shared satisfaction.
Dan scowled. He looked at Gadiel, but Gadiel was standing quietly by the window, his arms folded and his feet planted, watching the men quite calmly.
‘We will wish you a good day.’ Ata moved away, his keys rattling quietly. His companions followed him from the room. They did not wait for a reply.
Dan kicked at the bed frame. ‘Man, why didn’t you say something, Gadiel? Why did you let them get away with it?’
Gadiel looked at him steadily. ‘They’re probably right, don’t you think? Don’t you think Ellie and her father should know?’
‘But they’re holding us to ransom, man. It’s not fair. It’s not… it’s iniquitous, that’s what it is.’
‘It won’t be so bad.’ Gadiel sat down wearily on the bed, waiting for the creak of the springs to subside before speaking again. ‘It’ll just mean everyone’s straight with what’s going on, that’s all. Anyway, what could I have done?’
Dan snorted. ‘You’re the strong one, aren’t you?’
‘And what do you want? Do you want me to beat up three old men?’
‘Don’t be stupid, man. But we’re supposed to be in charge here. We’re squatters, man – we’ve got the power of the people.’
Gadiel lay back, his sigh swallowed by the puff of the old mattress. ‘Perhaps they’re bluffing. Perhaps they won’t go through with it. They seemed weird enough.’
‘We need a plan of campaign,’ Dan said. ‘I’ll come up with something. I need time to think, that’s all.’
Ellie was surprised to find the men in the study at this hour. She paused at the door. ‘Is something wrong?’
‘It seems we have interlopers, my dear,’ Ernest replied, turning slightly to acknowledge her arrival. ‘Those blighters with the van.’
‘They’re squatting,’ Hindy said. ‘Occupying the house. Apparently it’s a political statement. They’ve taken root in the kitchen and disordered the bedroom corridor. They have established some kind of headquarters in the room with the gold four-poster.’
Ellie tried to keep her voice calm. ‘Well, they could stay for a while, couldn’t they? Since we know them.’
‘They have to go, Miss Barton.’ Luden narrowed his eyes at her. ‘Immediately.’
Ernest could not stay still. His hands ran over chair backs, the table; he pulled at his trousers. ‘It does seem rather absurd,’ he offered, gingerly.
‘Absurd?’ Hindy was scathing. ‘Mr Barton, it’s insupportable.’
‘They deserve to be flogged,’ Ata added, amiably.
‘Oh, now wait—’ Ellie began.
But her father was already taking his cue from the men. ‘It’s true.’ His tone was hardening. ‘I don’t want yobs traipsing round my house. It’s my bloody house. It’s Marlford, after all.’
‘After all,’ Hindy agreed.
‘But, Papa, you know they’re not yobs. You met them yesterday. They’re perfectly nice.’
Ernest glanced across at Luden. ‘They’re trespassing. They shouldn’t be here. Should they?’
The old man shook his head slowly, with mechanical regularity.
‘Exactly.’ Ernest spoke too quickly. ‘Exactly.’
‘They might find out what happened here,’ Hindy said. ‘They might begin to ask awkward questions, Mr
Barton.’
Hindy’s suggestion seemed to unleash sudden energy in Ernest. He began to dart from side to side, in case the squatters were hidden perhaps, tucked away in dark corners, or cowering behind the sideboard. ‘I’ll get the police.’ He slammed his fist against a section of empty shelving; the split wood moaned. ‘I’ll get the bloody army.’
The three men shuffled more closely together, closing ranks. Ellie stepped forwards from the doorway, but they turned their faces towards her. She took it as a warning and stopped.
‘Better to deal with the affair yourself,’ Hindy suggested, calmly, directing his attention back to Ellie’s father.
‘Indeed,’ Luden agreed. ‘Better get rid of them our own way.’
Ernest bit his nails.
‘Haven’t you always kept Marlford safe?’ Hindy went on.
Luden fixed Ernest with a steady gaze. ‘More or less.’
‘And you could secure it – everything,’ said Ata.
Luden snorted. ‘Or you could stand there and let them rampage, and lose it all.’
Ernest looked hard at the men, his resolve stiffening.
‘Mr Barton, out of respect for the family legacy, and as master of such a place…’ Hindy did not need to finish.
‘I’ll shoot the lot of them.’
He announced his intention quietly. There was no reply. He raised his voice. ‘Ellie – get me my gun.’
She did not move. She was pale and fixed, insubstantial against the stones of the long wall.
‘Ellie! Gun! I will not have strangers in my house.’
With a sudden lunge, Ernest pushed past Ata, grabbed the poker from the set of irons at the fireplace and strode towards the door, brushing his daughter aside.
‘Papa! Wait!’
Hindy restrained her. ‘I should be careful, Miss Barton. We shouldn’t get involved.’
By then Ernest was out of the study and in the hall, the poker fixed at a defiant angle, an old soldier.
Ellie groaned. ‘You’ve made him do something terrible,’ she snapped. ‘How can you just stand there? You’ve set him off again and now—’
‘We simply made him aware of his duty,’ Hindy replied, amicably.
‘No. No, you know that’s not it – you know.’ She felt them moving towards her, in a line, impregnable. She backed away. ‘If something terrible happens, it will be your fault… if he does something terrible…’ But her accusations deflected back, like water running against a dam, and the men were still advancing. ‘Please – don’t…’ she pleaded. ‘You know what I’ve said is true.’
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