To See the Light Return

by Sophie Galleymore Bird

  ‘Safe,’ replied Dwight. ‘I’ll give you the keys to the warehouse as soon as those babes arrive.’

  Spight extended his hand for a final mangling, and they shook on the deal. That done, he keyed in the number programmed into his phone. When it was answered he said, ‘Bring the first batch.’

  *

  The Major watched the two men shake hands and thought, this is it then. A few days at sea, and then what? He doubted he’d make it into a harem. Nope, for him it would be down the mines or into the tar sands for a short stint of soul- and body-destroying labour, speedily followed by an unpleasant death. Not the way he had envisaged rounding out an eventful life. His eyes lingered on Fred, standing next to Spight, just visible at the top of the ramp. If he could just shake off this lethargy and try to take him out, now, even if the attempt killed him …

  The thought was interrupted.

  From somewhere ashore, there was a bellow of ‘NOW!’ and a deafening cacophony of bells, whistles and shouting broke out. The Major could not be sure who was behind it, or what it meant, but he did know that right now, while everyone was distracted and looking around in confusion, was his chance. Pushing himself to his feet, he threw himself at a guard, who was staring up at the dock with his mouth open and didn’t see the fist heading for his temple. Pole-axed by the blow, the militia man fell to the deck and the Major leapt over him to tackle another guard, alerted by the sound of the first guard falling and approaching fast.

  Taken off balance by the motion of the boat, swinging wildly, the guard toppled into the Major’s fist and fell hard and sideways. As the guard got to his feet, Irma threw her coat over his head and started beating at him through the heavy wool. Confused, he backed away until the gunwale of the boat was behind his knees, and he fell overboard. Despite the summer heat the water was icy cold; the Major could hear the man gasping for breath when he surfaced. He left him floundering and turned away, looking for the next foe. The remaining three guards were all under attack from their prisoners and the boat would soon be theirs.

  The Major hurled himself across the deck, grasped the rusting ladder fixed to the harbour wall and scrambled up until he was standing on the quay.

  The prisoners had been put in four boats to stop them conspiring with each other, but that meant there were now four groups of passengers fighting Spight’s militia and fewer of them to come to the aid of Spight up on the dock. The Major recognised the gaudily dressed SCREW activists who were closing in on Spight, Fred, the Captain and his crewman. The Captain was grinning, a knife held in each of his enormous hands, and his mate was holding a gun produced from inside his jacket.

  All four of them were facing away from the Major and towards the approaching, noisy crowd. Now that he was standing level with them, he could hear some of what was being shouted.

  ‘Come and get it! Come and get some nice young flesh! See our specials! Today only!’

  ‘Don’t miss the dish of the day! Get it while it’s hot!’

  ‘BARGAINS! WE GOT SOME LOVELY BARGAINS!’ This last was amplified and distorted through a megaphone. He recognised Mrs Mason wielding it, and felt a sudden and overwhelming rush of love for her. She hadn’t seen him yet. She was too busy shouting at her father and her husband.

  They seemed stunned.

  *

  Will and Primrose didn’t hear the bellowed ‘NOW!’ but they did hear the din that followed. Thanks to the gradient of the hill they were stumbling down, they could see the dock from several streets away, and an acoustic trick of the river, and the hillside on its other side, meant that the brightly dressed people running out of buildings shouting for everyone to come and look at the bargains to be had that day, could be heard clearly in the streets above.

  Will put out his hand out to clasp Primrose’s arm, bringing her to a staggering stop so they could work out what was happening. He could see Mrs Mason with a loudhailer, berating the Mayor and Fred and two enormous men he didn’t recognise, on the water’s edge. The Major was behind the four men, and neither they nor Mrs M seemed to notice him as he ran at one of the huge strangers, until he took the man out at the knees with a rugby tackle.

  A gun went off and people screamed. A tide of bodies overtook Spight and the others and they were borne to the ground by sheer weight of numbers. Crowds of curious people were emerging from side streets, come to see what was going on and if, indeed, there were bargains to be had. It all looked as if the rebellion was succeeding. The Major and everyone else would soon be rescued.

  That was it then. The people destined for slavery were being saved from their unspeakable fate. At last they could pause and catch their breath. The two of them slumped against the wall of a nearby house and waited for their legs to stop trembling from the last sprint down the hill, ignoring the glances of curious and suspicious people emerging into the street to see what all the ruckus was about.

  Primrose was clutching her ribs and slid down the wall until she was sitting with her back resting against it. Will joined her. Even here in the shade the heat was punishing.

  So that was it. Mission accomplished. It felt like an anticlimax.

  Sitting, they could see nothing, though the shouting of the crowds below was still at a high pitch.

  Despite his aching legs Will couldn’t sit still. After a couple of minutes, he stood and said, ‘Prim, I’ve got to go on. They might still need me.’

  Primrose whimpered and made a move to stand.

  ‘No, you stay here, come down when you can.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ She looked torn between exhaustion, relief and disappointment.

  ‘Yes.’ He took one of the satellite phones Mrs P had given them out of his rucksack, fiddled with it and crouched to scribble something in a page torn from his notebook before handing them to her. ‘I’ll come back up, or call me when you’re ready and I’ll tell you where to meet me. The number is on this bit of paper. It’s really simple, I’ve switched it on so just hit the numbers and press Send.’

  She took the phone and the bit of paper, looked at the phone with a mixture of fascination and anxiety, and put them both in the pocket of her trousers.

  ‘Well, go on then,’ she said and smiled bravely.

  He hesitated a moment, patted her clumsily on the arm and stood as he said, ‘See you soon.’

  *

  As the inspection tour moved from the warehouse back to the boats, Bob had slipped away to return a phone call. His phone had been vibrating in his pocket, and Gloria Spight’s name was on the screen. Why would she be ringing? Not wanting to draw the attention of her husband, he had waited and ducked down a narrow alley while Spight was distracted by Dwight’s questions, before calling her back.

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘Charming,’ she laughed. ‘You’ve been hanging around my husband too long.’

  ‘I’m sorry, darling. Things are tense here.’

  ‘You don’t know the half of it. There’s someone here who needs to talk to you.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Your aunt. Wait a sec.’

  There was a moment’s pause and then his Aunty Iris started speaking. ‘Sorry, Bob, didn’t have your number and couldn’t think how else to get hold of you, but Gloria’s alright, you can trust her. More than I can trust you – I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about the live cargo! I’m very disappointed in you.’ Bob felt sick with shame. She continued, more kindly, ‘You need to know that Will got a message through to the resistance, and there’s going to be an interruption to Spight’s plans. You can either stay out of the way or help them. The choice is yours. I really hope you do the right thing, this time.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Right about now, I imagine. Before the boats leave for the freighter. I don’t know any more, I think the situation is what you call fluid. I just thought you should know.’

  Any moment then. ‘Thank you. And I’m sorry Aunty, I know I should have told you. I’ve got to go.’

  ‘Go well, Bob.’ In t
he background, as he pressed End, he could Gloria speaking to someone, sounding surprised and annoyed.

  The call had only taken a matter of minutes, but Spight and the others had disappeared from view by the time Bob left the alley. Which gave him a few moments to decide what to do. It was hard to know what that should be with so little information. This was what he had wanted, the hope that had taken him to his aunt’s door, but he risked messing things up if he got directly involved. It was probably better to stay out of the way. Busy with his thoughts, he didn’t notice Hector and Gloria’s daughter Flora, until he was standing almost on top of her. Dressed in garish red jacket and bright purple trousers, she was peering around the corner of the hotel, holding a stopwatch and a loudhailer in her hands.

  ‘Flora! What are you doing here?’

  ‘Doing a spot of shopping … What the hell do you think I’m doing? I’m getting in Daddy’s way. Don’t interfere if you value your skin.’

  It wasn’t so difficult to make the decision after all, and as soon as it was made he felt much better about himself. This was more important than one person. ‘Me, too. Getting in the way, I mean.’

  ‘Really – you? Sorry but you always seemed so much the lickspittle. Though Mummy speaks highly of you.’

  Bob coughed. Best not tell her why just now, too distracting. ‘Anything I can do?’

  ‘Only if you can get that minion out of the way.’ She gestured towards the corner and Bob put his head round cautiously. One of the militia men forming the perimeter of Spight’s negotiations was standing in the next street, smoking a cigarette and looking bored. Beyond him, Bob could see Spight, Fred and the others standing by the water’s edge.

  ‘When?’

  Flora checked her stopwatch. ‘Now would be good.’

  Bob approached the militia man and told him he needed to move his post two streets out. The man shrugged and moved off in the direction Bob was indicating. Once he had passed her hiding place, Flora emerged, running into the square.

  ‘NOW!’ she shouted. Doors opened, and dozens of people boiled out of the buildings facing onto the open space. Bob stood and watched. The minion he had sent away was standing looking confused but, seeing Bob, seemed content to stay where he was for now.

  *

  Before Primrose had a chance to wish him luck Will had gone, running down the street towards the town square. She was devastated to be left behind but he was right, she was in too much pain to move just now, and Will had been training for this for years, from what he had been telling her as they made their journey. She couldn’t ask him not to go, however terrified she was to be left alone.

  She leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes. Colours flared before her eyes in time with her racing pulse, the display slowing as her heartbeat and breathing calmed.

  Voices nearby brought her back to her surroundings. People were still standing in the street looking down the hill and muttering to each other, but it wasn’t them she had heard.

  A dozen yards from where she was sitting, a side street led up from the dockside to the warren of alleys and terraces that covered the hillside this side of the river. Hurrying up it, moving away from the water, were a middle-aged woman and a man with a beard, both pushing strollers holding babies of about six months old. There were slightly older children strapped to their chests and backs. Behind them was another woman with a toddler propped on each hip.

  The adults all looked strained. The man was speaking angrily but Primrose couldn’t hear what he was saying. None of the children looked as though they were related to each other, showing a variety of skin tones, hair colours and facial features. Another moment and they had crossed the road and disappeared. Primrose followed them with her gaze, Will’s words of the previous night reverberating around her head: ‘They don’t just sell grown ups. It’s babies too.’

  With difficulty, she pushed herself up to standing on shaky legs.

  What should she do? With no one to tell her, she was almost paralysed with indecision. What would Will do? Or Mrs P? That steadied her and enabled her to think. First, she needed to follow them and see where they went.

  She hurried to the corner and turned right, then slowed down so she could keep them in sight but wouldn’t catch up. The odd family group carried on up the road before going through the front door of a mid-terrace house. Should she call Will? Or should she find out more first? Primrose took the phone and Will’s scrap of paper out of her pocket. She keyed in the number, then slipped the phone back in her pocket without pressing Send. She needed more information before she called for help.

  Not giving herself time to think or talk herself out of it, Primrose went straight to the house, and knocked on the door. There was a moment of delay before it was opened by the woman who had been carrying the toddlers. With a shock, Primrose realised she knew her from her first year at the fat farm.

  ‘What do you want?’ the woman asked suspiciously, looking past her and up and down the street.

  ‘Esther? It’s me, Primrose, from the farm.’

  ‘Primrose? What you doing here?’

  ‘Oh, er, Spight sent me to lend a hand.’

  ‘Spight? He looked like he had his own hands full.’

  ‘That was just a trap to get the insurgents out in the open. He’ll mop them up and then he’ll send for the babies. He’ll contact me when he’s ready. See, he’s given me a phone.’ Primrose waved it at the woman before returning it to her back pocket.

  ‘Well, you’d best come in then.’ Esther turned and led the way into the house. Primrose took a deep breath and followed her inside.

  emerging from the shadows

  It was risky, working in daylight, but they were against the clock now. Merryn just had to hope no one would be passing who could see over the overgrown hedge and observe them clearing the overgrowth from the few solar panels that had been left by raiders, and bringing in more from the vans parked inside the field. Stage Three had to be complete by the time the call came in from Mrs Mason, or all their years of scheming would have been wasted. It was unlikely they would get another chance. Merryn was fully aware of the weight of responsibility resting on him but tried to concentrate on every separate electrical connector. If one failed it could ruin their plan.

  It was stiflingly hot under the panels of black glass, but the appearance of the sun had been greeted with delight when it rose, bloated and red, from the horizon. The recent weeks of cloud and rain had been a worry, and had slowed down the work of local operatives, leaving him with more to do. He was falling behind.

  It didn’t help that Mrs Mason had taken a large proportion of their agents with her to Dartmouth and he was working with only the handful that could be spared. Everything had sped up after the mad and reckless actions of the Major. He couldn’t fault the man for caring about his recruit, but could curse him as he set to the task of feverishly checking yet another set of connectors. They were rusted through. That was another twenty minutes or so gone while he replaced them. Meanwhile someone was cleaning the panel above him, and cold, dirty water was seeping through his shirt and soaking his skin.

  *

  Once she was inside the house Primrose had to admit to herself she had no idea what she was doing. Her plan had consisted of getting through the front door. Now here she was, being led along a dim and dingy corridor, past a small front room to a kitchen at the back of the house, lit by a small window and a glazed back door, but still gloomy. There was no sign of the two younger babies but the toddlers and the others, whom she guessed to be about a year old, were all in the kitchen.

  The one year olds were sitting on the floor under a table, around which the toddlers were running, screaming with delight. Esther gestured towards a chair by the table. She looked exhausted, aged beyond her thirty something years, with grey streaks in dull brown hair that hadn’t been washed in a while.

  ‘Where are the others?’ Primrose asked as she sat down. The toddlers started using her as something to attack
each other from behind. She tried to ignore them.

  ‘Upstairs, changing nappies.’ Esther replied. ‘How come you got out the farm?’

  ‘Dorcas never got me to sign. I decided I’d had enough so I asked for something else to do. Spight calls me in when he needs to.’ This was like lying to Agnes all over again. It was almost worrying how good she was at it. Maybe all those years of reading silly stories were paying off in this ability to spin a tale from a slender thread.

  ‘Funny … he just called and didn’t say nothing about traps. Or you.’ Esther seemed more confused than suspicious.

  ‘Well, like you saw, he’s got his hands full. Guess it slipped his mind. I’m just here to help wipe bums and pass on instructions when there’s a new rendezvous arranged.’

  ‘You think he’s going to get that rabble under control?’

  ‘Sure. Like I said, it was all planned like that.’ She shot out a hand and stopped one of the children from hitting the other on the head with a sauce bottle grabbed from the table. Taking the bottle off him, she put it gently down in the centre of the table, out of reach.

  ‘Not what it looked like to me.’

  ‘Well, who else knows you’re here, eh?’ Primrose put some tetchiness into her tone. It always worked for Dorcas. ‘It’s good to see you, Esther.’

  The girl seemed underwhelmed at their reunion. ‘Maybe you can help me get this pair washed up a bit. Don’t want them starting new lives with mucky faces.’

  *

  When Will arrived at the dock it was to find that the day had not yet been decisively won. Emerging from the shadows of a lane running down the side of an old half-timbered building, he could see that Spight, Fred and the two big men were in custody, sitting on the ground with their arms tied behind their backs, being guarded by Mrs M, who was holding a gun. A larger group of underlings were tethered together nearby. As he drew closer he could see the Major and several members of the resistance down on the pontoons, trying to board boats containing caches of young people, who looked confused but were not getting involved in efforts to defend or board the boats. Knots of townspeople were standing around the quay and the square, watching what was going on, looking interested but not as though they had much stake in the outcome.