by M J Dees
Under the Restoration of Higher Education Act, I have recommended your dismissal. You will find your notice of dismissal attached.
signed
The Minister for Education
The attachment was a standard form, which the minister had digitally signed.
Jim phoned the university which, at first, seemed oblivious to the news but not surprised considering his cohort of students had dwindled to zero. He established from the university that he would continue to receive his full salary until July. After that, having to rely on his severance and royalties would seriously reduce their income.
He emailed Ben, who replied with some contacts in teaching agencies and with the news that he had received an offer of a teaching position overseas. Jim filled his day applying for academic grants and writing emails to Elijah, Matthew Lewis, and Dr Green, who had got him the job at the university in the first place, and John Morgan, whom Jim had asked to make enquiries on his behalf.
When Annabel brought Olivia in from school, Jim waited until she had sat down before showing her the email.
“I’ve sent some emails, putting out feelers for other work,” he explained.
“Where?”
“It would depend on what came up.”
“I can’t rent a pokey flat in a city again, Jim, I need my garden.”
“I would need to rent an apartment wherever the job was. To pay for this place as well would require a very well-paid job and the chances of getting one of those is about as high as winning the lottery.”
“I am not leaving this house.”
Jim didn’t reply but just looked through the emails of condolences from his ex-colleagues, including one from John Morgan saying they are already planning to fill his post, so the dismissal was not a matter of redundancy.
“This reminds me of being in the army,” Jim thought out loud.
“What do you mean?” asked Annabel.
“None of my colleagues bother about me, they just think: ‘oh, there’s another one gone. Who will be next? Me?’”
“I’m sure that’s not true.”
“I know it; it’s the same philosophical comfort I gave Ben when they dismissed him.”
“What’s that got to do with the army?”
“Once, when we were under machine gun fire, I tripped and fell. When I reached cover, the sergeant said: ‘You’re here, too? I thought you were dead’. It’s the same feeling, a war mentality. If the bullet gets him, it can’t get me.”
*
“You should complain,” said Henry, accepting a drink from Jim.
Jim liked the company of Henry and Camila, who had made the trip to the house with Asher Williams, but he worried about the cost of entertaining them.
“I spoke to Devi,” said Jim. “He said that, although they have received instructions to fill the post, it does no good to complain because they just get told that it has nothing to do with them.”
“The staffing of the department has nothing to do with the head of faculty?” said Henry, amazed.
“He said it was the same in the cases of Smirnoff and Silva.” Jim shrugged.
“It’s all going pear-shaped,” Henry complained. “You mark my words; it’ll all kick off with this fishing thing. Spain’s already pissed off, but with Gibraltar.”
“I doubt Spain has much of a navy,” said Asher.
“Yes, but whose side do you think Europe will be on? All this posturing from Roberts will land us in hot water and he shouldn’t expect the US to come to the rescue.”
“Oh, I almost forgot to tell you, they have let Joe Wood go,” said Jim.
“Another,” said Henry.
“Why do you insist on staying here?” Charlotte asked Annabel and Jim. “You must be at least able to earn a little abroad.”
“But doing what?” said Jim. “That’s the problem.”
*
Jim was working at his desk when he heard a knock at the door. He opened it to find a police officer standing there.
“Jim Smith?” the police officer inquired.
“Yes?”
“I have a few questions to ask you. Do you mind if I come in?”
“What’s all this about?” Jim asked, gesticulating for the officer to take a seat.
“Standard enquiries. Do you have your birth certificate?”
“My birth certificate?”
“I just need to check your heritage. When were you naturalised?”
“Naturalised? Look here, I was born in the US, but I’m a British citizen, my father was British, I grew up in Britain,” Jim snapped. “I’m fed up to the back teeth with this persecution of ‘foreigners’.”
Then Jim fell silent, realising what he had just said and wondering how the police officer might react. She sighed and leaned back in her chair.
“Me, too,” she said. “I’ve been working for 15 years. The Tories were in power when I started. What can I do?”
“Sorry,” said Jim. “I get stressed. I lost my job at the university because of all this.”
“Ah, you worked at the university? Do you know Elijah Brown?”
“Yes, I do.”
“How is he?”
“He got a job overseas.”
“And now they’ve dismissed you, eh? The question is, do they have someone right for your post?”
The police officer rose to her feet.
“I won’t disturb you any longer, Mr Smith.”
She offered Jim her hand, and he shook it before showing her to the door. After he had closed the door again, Jim had to sit down to recover. He knew how rash he had been and knew that the situation could have turned out differently, that it might still turn out badly. He resolved not to mention it to Annabel.
He turned to his stretch to distract himself and saw that Roberts had successfully gained concessions from Europe on the fishing agreement. That would be sure to strengthen his position.
As he read on, the speeches by Andersen about exterminating foreigners ‘like fleas and bed bugs’ were disappointing and even a little scary, given the acts of violence reported in several cities.
Another knock at the door interrupted Jim. This time it was Garcia.
“I’ve brought the contract for the roof extension,” he said with a smile.
“And to discuss the leak in the current roof, I hope,” said Jim.
“That too, although I must warn you that the chair of the planning committee doesn’t seem to like you very much,” Garcia warned.
“He’s just a Unity member.”
“Wasn’t that a police car I passed on the way up here?”
“Yes, they wanted to know when I’d been ‘naturalised’.”
“You take care,” said Garcia. “I don’t want to extend your roof just to have someone come and burn it down.”
“Don’t be silly,” said Jim, but inside he didn’t think it sounded silly at all.
Chapter Twenty-One – 17 years 2 months before the collapse
Jim and Annabel seldom left the property, only if they needed to go into the village to shop. The stories of those with foreign heritage being beaten on the streets were on the rise and they didn’t want to risk it, even in a quiet village like theirs.
They weren’t afraid of the villagers; they had never been hostile to Annabel and Jim, but there were many stories of gangs of zealots roaming the country, purging communities of foreign scum. There had been many cases of those with foreign heritage having their windows broken.. Posters had appeared on walls: ‘Those who buy from foreigners are traitors to the unity of the nation.’
Many shop windows displayed the story of a foreigner they had found with many false names and addresses, collecting £150,000 a year in benefits.
Jim read on his stretch that the Government had passed the Protection of British Heritage Act, which prohibited marriage or sexual relations between true British citizens and those with foreign heritage.
Despite the pleasantness of the villagers, many of them were going to the Unity festival, and
they had even organised a coach. Annabel and Jim had declined the offers to join them.
They tried to amuse Olivia as best they could by having her help around the garden.
Jim continued to read the news on his stretch. Even though the lies sickened him, the tension in the country was so great that he felt he should at least be aware of what lies were being told.
He read about Jehovah’s Witnesses being sentenced to prison under the new Prevention of the Propagation of Fake News Act. Jim was not sure this was what they had designed the act for, or perhaps it was. Roberts’ government was religious, but it had a very specific brand of religion intolerant to all other brands.
“We’ve run out of butter,” Annabel shouted from the kitchen.
“I’ll pop down to the shop,” said Jim. He wanted to get out of the house and get some fresh air, keeping up to date with the lies in the news was a depressing business and he thought a short walk might lighten his mood.
“Be careful,” Annabel warned.
“Don’t worry, I will be.”
Jim left the house and crossed the garden to the gate, which opened onto the track. He followed the track until it became a road and followed the road down to the village.
The centre of the village comprised a square, around which there was a pub, a butcher’s shop, and a general store. It surprised Jim to see a queue stretching out of the general store and into the square.
“There’s been no deliveries so they’re running short of all sorts,” said Mark, a villager whom Jim had met in the pub and befriended.
“I’m after some butter,” Jim explained.
“Good luck with that, try tomorrow, it’s the farmers’ market, they’re more reliable.”
Jim hung around the square for a while listening in on the conversations of those in the queue or others milling about observing the spectacle. He overheard many rumours from countries boycotting British goods to the claim that Roberts had cancer and would not last long.
He wandered back up the road towards the house, browsing his stretch as he went, laughing at what seemed the most ludicrous story of a wing of the Unity for foreign nationals and immigrants. Jim couldn’t imagine what these people hoped to achieve, it was like Jews trying to join the Nazi party.
When he arrived at the house, he found Annabel and Olivia in tears.
“What is it?” he asked.
“It’s Wilks,” Annabel sobbed.
Jim followed her to where Wilks lay on a towel, unable to lift his head. Magennis sat nearby, watching his brother.
“We should take him to the vet,” said Jim, shuddering at the thought of the bill.
*
Jim waited for his appointment at the council offices. He didn’t understand why he needed planning permission to add an extension to the house when trees enveloped the house so that no-one could see it from the track or from the surrounding fields.
“You must have a pitched roof, otherwise you are disfiguring the area,” the planning officer explained when Jim the monitor finally called to his perspex protected video screen.
He wore a small enamel Unity badge on the lapel of his dull grey suit jacket.
“But many houses in the village have extensions with flat roofs,” Jim protested. “I’m not disfiguring anything.”
“Then there will be no building work,” the officer explained in a matter-of-fact tone. “You could appeal the decision, but I don’t think...”
“I shouldn’t have to beg for something that should happen as a matter of course.”
“I don’t think you understand the way we do things here.”
Jim wondered whether the officer meant the council or the country. He was in a foul mood, he’d had to take Wilks to be euthanised that morning.
“You are a guest here,” the officer continued. “And if you cause a fuss, I can have you detained overnight.”
Jim wondered when they had given planning officials the power of arrest, but the small enamel badge on the grey man’s lapel told Jim he had better not mess with him. He left, resigned to the fact that he would have to fork out for a pitched roof.
On the way back through the village, Jim noticed queues at the general store. He stopped at the pub for a pint, where he met Mark.
“Have you not heard?” Mark answered Jim’s question about the queues. “The French have closed the channel tunnel because of the trade dispute. The only goods coming in are by air or boat.”
When Jim dragged himself away from the pub and back up the track, he found Annabel and Olivia still in the garden, even though it was getting dark. He reflected on how much happier Annabel seemed in this house in the country.
She was listening to their old digital radio on which they could hear Roberts, mid-speech.
“What’s going on?” Jim asked.
“This dispute with Europe is making Roberts more popular than ever. He is proposing a new referendum on his policy of ‘peace and freedom’, which he’ll win without having to fake a single vote.”
Jim stopped to listen to the speech.
“They accuse me of being a dictator,” he shouted. “They cannot see I have simplified democracy by giving the decisions to the people.”
“He only gives them the vote because he knows he will win,” Jim commented.
“How did it go?” Annabel asked, giving him a kiss.
“It was terrible,” said Jim. “But the vet was very good.”
“Have you been drinking?”
“I popped into the White Harte. There are queues again.”
“You’re drinking too much.”
“I’ve had a hell of a day. The idiot at the council threatened to have me arrested.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s a cunt and we have to have a pitched roof.”
*
“I’m worried that we haven’t heard from Jon or Jenny,” said Annabel.
“We’re we meant to?” asked Jim.
“Yes, they said they would get in touch with us to do something together.”
“What?”
“I don’t know, go out somewhere.”
“Have you got the money to go out, or for a babysitter?”
“I don’t want to be stuck in this house with you all the time.”
“Thanks.”
“You know what I mean. I worry that they have been told not to fraternise with foreigners.”
“I think people have accepted Roberts,” Jim sighed. “As the lesser evil.”
“Than what?”
“Than Europe, the bogeymen.”
There was a knock at the door.
“There you are,” said Jim. “That’s most likely them now.”
“They said they’d call, not just turn up at the door.
“Bloody hell,” said Jim as he opened the door. “Tony!”
Annabel got up and went to see it was Tony.
“Let him in, Jim.”
“Oh, sorry, come in, Tony. How did you find us?”
“Your sister.”
“Oh, you’re still...”
“No. Not really. But she told me where you lived. I wouldn’t have come, but I didn’t know where else...”
“Is everything okay, Tony? Sit down and let me get you a drink. What would you like?”
“Do you have any single malt?”
“How do you take it? Ice? Water?”
“A little ice please.”
By the time Jim returned with the drink, Tony was calming down.
“Thank you,” he said, accepting the drink and taking a large gulp. “I just wanted to get things off my chest and say goodbye. I’m finished, I want to die.”
“What do you mean?” Annabel asked.
“I have my razor with me. I can pay instalments but not the full amount.”
Annabel and Jim exchanged concerned glances.
“I can’t take it anymore, I want to die!”
“Why? What happened?” Annabel asked.
“There was a girl and an aborti
on.”
“Jesus!” said Jim. “I thought they were illegal now?”
“Exactly. It cost a fortune and I’ve paid half, but they need the other half next month. I want to die. I’ve already cashed in my savings. I could pay by instalments but not the lump sum.”
Jim was wondering how much it had cost Tony to find them all this way in the country and at the end of a track.
“Sounds like someone is trying to extort money from you, Tony,” Jim suggested. “Surely you have nothing to worry about.”
“You don’t know these people,” said Tony.
Jim was sure of this
“What about the girl?”
“We’ll get married.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, how old is she?”
Tony looked embarrassed.
“Eighteen,” he admitted.
“Oh, Tony,” said Annabel.
“We can pay the instalments together. It’s just the lump sum.”
When Jim went to refill Tony’s glass, he beckoned Annabel into the kitchen.
“Do you think he actually intends to kill himself?” Jim asked.
“I don’t know. What about marriage?”
“She’s only eighteen.”
“Can’t we lend him some money?”
“We won’t get it back.”
“Maybe not, but you remember how he helped us. We owe him, Jim.”
Jim had to concede this was true.
“We can lend you something,” said Jim as he delivered Tony his refill. “I doubt it’s enough, but it might help.”
“Thank you. I’m sure my fiancée and I will manage the rest. And once we’ve paid him back, we shall pay you back in instalments.”
“Who is it you borrowed the money from?” Jim asked.
“It’s best you don’t know.”
After another drink, Tony said he should settle as soon as possible, thanked them both and left.
“I expect that’s the last we’ll see of him,” said Jim.
“Maybe,” Annabel agreed.
Jim started an assessment of their finances, which made gloomy viewing. His severance and royalties were still in the bank, but they had used almost all of it.
There was another knock at the door.
“Has he come back for more?” Jim speculated.
Annabel opened the door to find Jon and Jenny Lee on the other side.