To See the Light Return

by Sophie Galleymore Bird

  *

  Craning his neck, Will saw Primrose standing with Mrs P, to one side of the people gathered in the square. He hastened towards them, then hesitated. He and the Major had rushed down from the village as soon as the helicopter had landed safely in the field above the fat farm – guided in by the torches they were waving – and the medics it was carrying had been escorted to Mal.

  Now, as Will stood behind Primrose, he felt shy, wondering if she would be pleased to see him or if he was making a fool of himself by feeling so excited to be reunited with her.

  Perhaps he should have stayed with Mal, but he had been assured his friend would be fine after proper medical attention at a facility in Saltash, and he could video conference with him in the morning. Both he and the Major had been keen to see what effect the revelations had had, as well as to check on the safety of those they cared about; they had driven back down in the Land Rover as fast as they could. The Major had vanished from Will’s side as soon as they had parked. Now here Will stood, summoning courage.

  He tapped Primrose on the shoulder. She turned, and a wide smile broke across her face.

  ‘You’re safe! I was so worried …’ It looked as though she might be blushing. Mrs P was smiling knowingly at him, then looked away tactfully as they both moved forward into an awkward hug.

  Later, when Will’s emotions and pulse had calmed, he observed the Major, sitting beside the woman he knew as Mrs Mason, on the stairs above the crowd. The Major must have told her about Fred; her expression was calm but sad. Mrs P poked him in the arm.

  ‘What’s up? You look like someone who’s lost the day, not won it.’

  ‘How could he just leave her here? If he loved her.’

  ‘You’re assuming it was his decision. She made the choice to stay. She knew that if she left the resistance would fizzle out. She made a courageous choice by staying here, having her baby, and especially by marrying Fred. The Major was in Cornwall and didn’t know she was married or that he was a dad until after Junior was born. By then, everything had changed.’

  ‘Not sure Junior will ever see it as courageous.’ Or Fred, thought Will, but didn’t say it, remembering the broken body at the foot of the stairs. Fred no longer cared either way. He pondered again the look on the man’s face as he’d teetered on the brink of the fall that killed him, and again as he died. It was as if he had seen something profound, as if a light of understanding had kindled in his eyes before they dimmed.

  Mrs P interrupted his musings. ‘Yes, it’s a shame about Junior. Flora hates herself for not keeping him closer the last few years, but he would have gone straight to his grandfather if he had known what she was up to. We just have to hope it’s not too late for him to get his head straight. Or crack open his heart.’

  ‘What about the rest of them? Do you think they’ll be glad to be rid of Spight?’

  ‘God yes, people just did what they had to do to keep going, and were grateful someone was in charge. You’re too young to remember how bad things were when he became Mayor – how many people were dying of disease and starvation. For a short while he seemed like a godsend. But now, given a better alternative, they’ll jump at the chance.’

  And it was better, Will knew that, and soon they would see it too. He remembered how he had felt when he first arrived in Saltash and saw the way people lived there, how much happier and freer they were than back in Devon. How angry and cheated he had felt, that this had been denied them in Bodingleigh. How, when he was old enough to become a cadet, he had resolved to do all he could to bring the knowledge he had to the people he had left behind.

  And they had done it. His heart swelled, filled with gratitude and love for all the people who had made this possible, putting their own bodies on the line to help bring about much-needed change.

  Long live the evolution.

  *

  Hector watched everything from the shadows, out among the fringes of the crowds in the square. He had been there some time, after following people up from the quayside, not knowing what else to do once he emerged from the state of shock precipitated by his clash with Fred. He was tired, hungry and thirsty. Again, he was observing comings and goings and listening to speeches that left him confused and, increasingly, angry.

  His mother, the girl from the boat, and a middle-aged man in mud-stained clothes, had told everyone his grandfather had lied to them. That might be true, he thought, but if so it must be for their own good. People were stupid, his grandfather often said so. They needed strong leadership, they needed to be told what to do or there would be anarchy. He wasn’t sure what anarchy was, but the way his grandfather talked, it had to be bad.

  He was resolute in his defence of his grandfather until his mother started talking about children. He remembered the ones on the boat, so much younger than himself, and felt a chill. Were they really being sold off to strangers? Grown ups was one thing, but little kids? He’d heard whispers about what some grown ups liked to do to little kids. His grandfather had put the fear of that in him after Junior had gone off on his own once when he was younger. It hadn’t stopped him going, but it had made him wary of strangers.

  Surely it was a lie? But his mother never lied, which made the things she was saying all the harder to hear. But if she’d been a terrorist all his life, and his whole life had been one big fat lie, that meant she could be lying now.

  His head hurt and he felt sick. He sat down on the ground. The rest of the talking passed him by until the streetlights came to life. He heard the collective gasp, then more talking.

  The appearance of the helicopter overhead, the noise and the whipping wind of its downdraft, the bright glare of light sweeping across the square, made him cower where he sat. He’d never seen one before and didn’t really know what it was, just that it was loud, it was flying, powerful, and it meant these people were way stronger than his grandfather. Hector Sr’s reign was over. Hector Jr sat there, feeling numb, while his brain came to terms with all this new information.

  Slowly, he came to the most important conclusion of all. Despite all he had done to protect himself he’d been on the wrong side. And not wrong just for selling off kids, but the losing side. Thinking that made him feel angry and scared. What would happen to them all now? What would happen to him now? How could he keep himself safe?

  He looked over to where his mother had been standing, talking to the crowd, and saw her sitting on the steps in front of the microphone stand. As he watched, the man who had locked Fred in the boat shed, the one Fred had told Junior was his actual father, climbed up the stairs to sit next to her. The man who was sitting on her other side, the one who had been talking to the townspeople, got up and left the two of them together, after a quick clasp and shake of hands.

  The two of them sat close together while the man told her something that made her sad. They were close but not touching; again it was obvious to Junior, from the way their heads were angled towards each other, that they knew each other well. He felt sure Fred had not lied to him. This man was his father. There sat his father, and his mother.

  His mother. His mother was at the centre of all this. She was important. So, too, was his father. This actual father.

  Hector Jr smiled. Whatever happened now, he knew he’d be fine.

  *

  ‘Mummy?’

  Flora looked up and saw her son standing on the steps below where she and Paul were sitting, looking up at her, face shadowed by the lights behind. Then he came up another step and she could see he was filthy, his clothes torn and his knees bleeding through holes in his trousers and her heart stuttered with anxiety. But from the gleam of his teeth, she could see he was smiling at her. She had been so scared of how he would react to the destruction of everything that he believed to be true about the world, that relief not to see him screaming at her overrode surprise. Beside her, she could feel Paul tensing and withdrawing slightly.

  She sped down the steps to her son and gave him a hug that he accepted stiffly. ‘Hector dar
ling, I’ve been so worried about you! Where have you been? Are you alright?’ She brought him back up the steps to sit with Paul, who was looking awkward.

  ‘I’ve been listening.’

  ‘It must be so confusing for you. I have so much to explain.’

  ‘I’m not confused. Grandpa did something wrong, and all these people have come here to put it right. When do we punish him?’

  ‘Um, it’s not really that simple. Lots of people did something wrong. We can’t punish them all when they were lied to. We have to forgive and move on, give people a chance to change.’

  ‘Even Grandpa?’

  ‘Even him. He might have to face a trial. It’s too soon to say.’

  Hector Jr did not look relieved to hear this, and his voice was stony as he asked, ‘What about Fred? He did wrong too.’

  The clutch of fear was back. How to tell him about Fred? About Paul? Flora reached out to hug him again, but he had sidled away and she couldn’t quite reach him.

  ‘I have some bad news to tell you about your … about Fred.’

  ‘He’s not my dad – he told me.’ Hector turned towards Paul. ‘Fred said you’re my dad. Is it true?’

  Paul was practically shaking as he said, ‘Yes.’

  ‘And you’re a hero, right?’

  ‘Er, well …’

  ‘Yes, he’s a hero,’ said Flora, putting her hand on Paul’s arm briefly.

  ‘OK. Mum, I’m hungry. I’ve not had anything to eat all day.’

  Could it really be so easy? She hoped so. Something didn’t feel right, but in the rush of relief and the wish to believe all could be so easily repaired, she found herself setting her doubts aside as she rose, heart swelling to hear that he didn’t hate her. Her hand grasped her son’s as she said, ‘Come on, let’s go home and get you something to eat, and then I can tell you about Fred. Paul, maybe we can talk later?’

  The Major nodded. ‘I’ll come and find you in a while. There are things I need to do.’

  As she walked down the steps with her son, she could sense his attention was still on Paul, his head craned over his shoulder. She must reassure him he would now be her sole focus, that she wouldn’t be rushing into anything. Even if there had never been much warmth between her son and her husband, particularly since that horrid thing with the cat, she was shocked by his rapid acceptance of changes that must be devastating to him. He didn’t even know about Fred’s death yet.

  *

  The Major watched Flora and Hector walk away, letting out a pent-up breath. His heart was still pounding. That had been more terrifying than facing down Spight and a whole battallion of his militia.

  From the foot of the stairs, Merryn beckoned him down to join him and said, ‘We need to decide what we’re going to do about Spight. People are demanding to see him, and from what I’m hearing, it isn’t for a polite chat.’

  ‘Where is he now?’ asked the Major.

  ‘Still in the car. We moved it a couple of streets away to make it less likely he’ll be spotted.’

  The Major scratched his head and stifled a yawn. ‘I suggest we get him across the border to Cornwall as soon as we can. We can bring him back for the trial when everything’s calmed down.’

  ‘How can we bring him to trial? Devon declared its independence. They have their own laws now.’

  ‘But surely what he’s done is illegal, even here.’

  ‘Not necessarily,’ Merryn replied. ‘So far as I’m aware from talking to Bob, nothing he’s done is against the law, because of the part of the constitution that says “Any citizen of Devon is bound by law to do all in his or her power to promote the security of the county and its people. This consideration shall over-ride all other concerns.” Besides that, he’s made it law that the actions of the Mayor are above scrutiny or prosecution. Taking him across the border, even holding him now, is probably illegal, because we have no extradition arrangements.’

  The Major laughed shortly. ‘Great. Didn’t we plan for this?’

  ‘We were so caught up in the logistics, not so much. It seemed like tempting fate.’

  ‘What if he asked us to?’

  Merryn laughed, ‘What, prosecute him?’

  ‘Maybe not that. To give him sanctuary, take him across to Cornwall. We can’t leave him here. There will still be people supporting him, quietly at least. People who did well out of their ties to him. It’ll be like missing cancer cells and stopping the treatment, if we just let him stay. And, which might be worse, they might decide to lynch him. Not a good start for a new democracy.’

  ‘True. We’re not really interested in punishing him, we just need to contain him, for everyone’s sake. You got any ideas?’

  ‘I just might.’

  *

  The electric helicopter had shaken him. He knew technological development had continued apace in the wider world, after a brief but dramatic lull caused by stringent carbon taxes, but he’d had no idea it was so far advanced, or that the Cornish – the Cornish for fuck’s sake – had access to it. For the first time, Spight had to acknowledge he might lose this war. The only thing he had going for him was that this was a load of wimps keeping him prisoner. They didn’t have it in them to do what was necessary to win. The fact he was still alive proved that. If it were him in charge, the first thing he would have done was to find a quiet spot and deliver a bullet to the brain. He’d seen who was under those hoods and masks – had they killed anyone in the whole time he’d been fighting them? His own grave sites were full of their fallen. He was the one with the balls to see things through.

  He was still talking himself up, in the back of the car he was locked inside – his car fuck it – when the locks popped open. The Major opened the driver’s door and climbed in. At the same time, the man who had been talking up on the stage got into the front passenger seat. The stranger twisted round to look at him and introduced himself as Merryn while the Major started the engine and began navigating his way through the twisty streets.

  Spight ignored Merryn and demanded to know where they were going. Merryn shrugged and turned to face forward.

  The Major looked at him in the rearview mirror, then turned his attention back to the road. ‘It’s late,’ he said. ‘You’re not a young man and it’s been a long day. We thought you might appreciate us finding somewhere safe for you to sleep.’ They were turning right onto the old bypass and heading downhill. There was no other traffic, but still the Major kept his gaze on the road. No doubt his bleeding heart was worried there could be donkeys.

  ‘Then take me home. It’s not far. I’m sure even you could find it.’

  ‘Not a good idea, Mayor, people know where you live.’

  What was that supposed to mean? Of course they did, he was their elected representative, had kept them fed. Despite what they had been told this evening, they wouldn’t forget that so soon.

  The house to which they drove him was down by the river. It was clearly one of their safe houses, spartan and unlived in, but there was food in the cupboard. Merryn made him a cheese salad sandwich and said he’d be keeping him company for the night. The Major left, locking the door behind him and promising he would be back first thing in the morning.

  ‘You know you can’t detain me, don’t you?’ Spight challenged Merryn as he bit into the sandwich.

  ‘Quite right. This is for your own protection, while things calm down. You can do what you like in the morning.’

  Mollified, the Mayor took himself and his sandwich off upstairs. The bed, in a small room on the first floor, was a bit damp and musty, but tolerable. On a whim, he tried the bedside light. It worked. They were making good on their promise so far. How could he turn that to his advantage? There must be a way. Schemes and plans chased themselves through his brain until he fell into sleep.

  In the morning, he dressed in his suit and returned downstairs to the smell of eggs scrambling. Merryn was cooking them on a small camping gas stove.

  ‘No compunction about that fossil fuel the
n?’ he goaded, in a good temper now he was rested.

  ‘Biogas – carbon neutral,’ Merryn replied equably. He served the eggs on to buttered toast and put the plate on the kitchen table. Spight set to with gusto, ignoring his captor until he had polished off the lot. Merryn poured him tea and offered milk.

  ‘So you’re going to let me go then?’ he demanded.

  ‘Certainly. Where do you want to go?’

  ‘Never you mind. Just unlock that door.’

  Merryn took keys out of his pocket, unlocked the front door and returned to the kitchen. Spight thought for a moment. He didn’t want to walk far. Even after a night’s sleep his bones ached from the activity of the last few days.

  ‘I’ll need a phone.’ He would summon a minion to come and get him.

  ‘You can have yours back.’ Merryn rummaged in a small canvas rucksack left by the front door and brought out the phone they had confiscated from Spight after his capture. He threw it to the Mayor.

  Spight found Fred’s number in his contacts list and hit Call. The phone rang a long time but no one answered. Lazy sod. Bob, no answer. Dug. Biff. No answer. He went through every number in the list and not one answered. Merryn watched him, his face impassive, but Spight felt mocked nonetheless. Wrenching open the front door he strode outside into the full glare of day.

  The thick stone walls and curtains of the house had kept the heat out. Outside, even at midmorning, the force of the sun was fierce. Hatless, Spight put his hand over his head to protect his scalp, and headed for the shade across the street. He hadn’t paid much attention to where they were the night before; now he saw he was a few streets away from the river, in one of the more run-down areas of the town, prone to flooding on spring tides.

  He had a choice. He could make his way back to Bodingleigh and his house and wait out this ridiculous farce; sooner or later the Cornish would leave and he could resume control. Or he could go to the quayside and find a boat, get downriver and make his way round the coast to allies in Dorset. Give up, in other words.