by Chris Harris
My anxiety had been a source of great amusement for everyone else and it was a standing joke now that whenever a patrol was about to leave, someone would shout, “Don’t forget the hobnobs!” I’d heard so many false reports about sightings of them, I’d stopped believing any of them.
We hardly ever saw anyone at our barricades now. The only people who did drift by from time to time were those who had chosen a nomadic existence, roving through abandoned and empty cities, towns and villages and gathering up whatever they could find as they went.
Modern day gypsies, I suppose you could call them.
Good manners dictated that we should offer these people a meal, but we were more than happy to do so. These people had survived without walls around them. They carried weapons for protection and they lived on their wits. That meant that on their travels they picked up all sorts of useful information. Information we could use.
Some of them had even made a living out of it, carrying messages between the communities, and passing on information in return for a meal or two.
The intricate networks of society were starting to repair themselves.
In the meantime, the news from the base was all positive. The plans to rebuild were in full swing and groups were beginning to spread out from the base to start farming and developing their own communities.
Undoubtedly, mistakes would be made and things would go wrong from time to time, but as everyone was working towards a single goal, eventually they would succeed.
Attacks on these newly formed communities were rare. The composition of each group was carefully thought out to include a broad mix of people, all with different skills. This included a few soldiers plus equipment and weapons. Careful planning also went into the locations of these new communities.
They were far enough away from each other to allow room for expansion, but close enough to maintain contact and offer each other assistance if required. For instance, extra manpower might be needed at harvest time, or for security purposes.
After losing so many of us to the plague, our compound seemed a little empty. The familiar faces of people we had shared so much with, would never be seen again.
Some of the more artistic members of our community had turned an outside wall of the church into a memorial for the people we had lost. The names of all our absent friends had been lovingly painted on to it. Friends and family members had followed suit by adding pictures and mementos. It had become a place of quiet contemplation and healing; somewhere to remember old friends and happy memories. And somewhere to shed a tear.
In rare quiet moments, I found myself drawn to the wall.
Not a day went by when I didn’t feel blessed that my own family had survived, and the wall was a constant reminder of how fragile life is.
The plague had had other consequences for our community. We’d lost more women than men to the disease and this had resulted in the men outnumbering the women by some margin. In fact, it soon became clear that the disparity between the sexes would have to be addressed before it became a problem.
The young single males in our group were mostly soldiers who had volunteered to remain with us. They had become important and useful members of our community, not least because they were all young and fit and were able to take on most of the heavy work.
But being young and male, it was amazing how often they would appear when the young single females were out doing their chores, offering their assistance with whatever task they were performing.
It was all very chivalrous and good natured, as everyone knew what the women had been through, but as time wore on it became clear that this good-natured competition for love would eventually lead to friction in the group.
Much to the embarrassment of certain younger members of the group, who believed their behaviour had been discreet, the topic was brought up for discussion at an evening meeting.
Allan made a valid point:
“It’s not just the youngsters we need to think about. The plague has left behind single parents too. I know it’s too soon for any of them to be thinking about it, but in the future, when their wounds are healed and they’re ready to accept someone else into their lives, in a community as small as ours, potential partners are going to be hard to come by.
If we’re going to prosper, I think we’ll need to think about expanding our population. But, if we do, we’ll need to give careful thought to who we invite to join us.”
Over the next few months the community did expand. We didn’t just invite the strong and physically fit. After careful consultations with the base, a wide variety of people helped to make our community whole again. Be they young or old, male or female, they all came with the kind of skills we needed and the type of personality that would fit in with us all.
As relationships were formed, Pete joked about asking the base for a supply of bromide, so that he could start adding it to the morning tea to calm all the raging hormones.
Allan and Michelle finally announced their wedding date. It was going to take place on the summer solstice, the longest day and shortest night of the year in the northern hemisphere. We had always planned to celebrate the summer and winter solstices, as in years gone by, but now the summer solstice was going to be a big party.
It would be the first marriage to take place in the UK since the event.
CHAPTER THIRTY
As the day approached, the preparations intensified.
The event was to receive the full backing of the base. The following message came back from Colonel Moore:
“Her Majesty the Queen offers the full support of the government to help celebrate this momentous event. Any assistance or equipment will, if at all possible, be made available.”
A civil ceremony was planned and the registrar was expected to arrive the day before the wedding on a convoy of invited guests from the base.
Engineers had arrived in lorries loaded with equipment, and were busy erecting a small tented village to provide temporary accommodation for all the visitors.
Michelle was too wrapped up in her own preparations to notice all the extra activity taking place, but Allan was not taking it well, particularly as he had overheard a radio conversation between Paul and the base about the extra security that would be required for the Prime Minister and the other VIPs.
The quiet, simple wedding he’d envisioned, celebrated with a few good friends, was now a beast running out of control and he didn’t like it one bit.
He complained loudly to Pete, Harry, Paul and myself, but had the sense to keep his feelings from Michelle. He didn’t want anything to ruin her day, and as she was oblivious to what was happening, he was determined to keep it that way. He told her that the extra accommodation was for the people they had befriended from nearby communities, who had insisted on coming to celebrate their special day with them.
It was partly the truth, as some of the accommodation was for them.
His stag night, held at Michelle’s insistence, a few days before the event, took place in the tennis pavilion of Chantry Tennis Club, in the park our road backed on to.
The tennis courts had long since been turned over to polytunnels, and the historic wooden clubhouse, a place that held happy memories for most of the road’s original residents, had been left intact. No one had had the heart to knock it down so now it stood there forlornly, looking increasingly more exposed, as the trees around it were cut down one by one for firewood.
Michelle’s hen night was held on the same night in the church hall. Harry had managed to arrange for disco equipment to be delivered and set up in the hall as a surprise. I never found out how. So, the women got to spend the night dancing (probably to cheesy music) while the men settled for darts, pool, beer and banter.
I’m not sure who had the wildest night, but Harry’s account of barely escaping with his life, following a quick visit to the girls to check that everything was working OK, had us all in stitches.
As Allan had done me the great honour of asking me to be his
best man, I took my duties seriously and ensured that his memory of most of the night was hazy but happy.
Formalities were observed, and Michelle and Allan spent the night before the wedding apart.
As he was unable to sleep because of nerves, I spent most of the night sitting with him in our favourite planning spot, the hut on the main barricade, drinking coffee and chatting. As the sun rose at about 5.30 in the morning, we gave up on the possibility of sleep, and carrying a weapon each, spent the next few hours walking the perimeter until it was time for us to get ready.
I had been looking after Allan’s police ceremonial uniform, which had been delivered from the base.
Michelle was expecting to see him in a standard suit, so seeing him resplendent in his uniform was going to be just one of the surprises planned for the day.
A large marquee had been erected for the ceremony, on the main road in Moseley village. At the allotted hour, we all began to gather. Becky was with Michelle, so I tried in vain to keep Stanley and Daisy from running around with their friends and ruining their immaculate clothes. Other parents were attempting to do the same, with varying degrees of success.
Everyone had made an effort and dressed in their finest clothes. Most of us were delighted at the opportunity to get dressed up, something we all thought we wouldn’t be doing again.
The soldiers looked fantastic in their dress uniforms. As a member of the royal household, Harry’s was particularly impressive. Kim was breathtakingly pretty in a dress she’d found from somewhere.
Paul Berry stood proudly next to Mel. After a very gentle courtship, they were now very much in love and had continued to look after Penny whom they loved like a daughter.
Everyone was smiling and enjoying the occasion. Chris Garland stood laughing with Pete and the others. He had met a woman recently, while running a survival course at another community. He had invited her along to the wedding and we all had hopes that the relationship would develop.
Well known political figures, including the prime minister and his family, were milling around and exchanging pleasantries with everyone, and enjoying the sunshine. The wide gulf that had previously existed between high profile politicians and personalities, and the general public, had long since disappeared.
I spotted Harry walking over to Allan with a serious expression on his face. I knew what it was about, so I quickly put on my game face.
“We have a problem. The registrar has fallen ill. I’ve just been to check on her, and there’s no way she’s going to be able to perform the ceremony,” he said frowning.
Allan went slightly pale, pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his forehead.
“Can we delay it?” he stammered, “what am I going to tell Michelle? I knew it was all going too well ...”
He stopped when he noticed that Harry was trying, and failing, to suppress a smile.
“What’s so funny?” Allan snapped.
“Oh, nothing dear chap,” Harry replied, trying and failing to look serious.
Allan glared at him.
“I know you, posh boy! You only act like that when you’re up to something. Tell me! I’m on edge enough as it is. Today is not the day to wind me up.”
Harry checked his watch and cocked his ear, as if listening for something.
“Allan, my good friend. Trust me, there is no way I’d really wind you up on a day like today. It’s just that some surprises are just that. Surprises.”
I could now hear the faint whump of a helicopter approaching.
The noise gradually grew louder, until two helicopters appeared overhead and circled the compound slowly.
“What’s going on? Who’s coming now?” Allan shouted above the increasing din, as they slowly began to settle and prepare for landing.
I was smiling now too, as I’d been let in on the secret only a few hours before. Harry hadn’t wanted the downwash from the helicopter to ruin Michelle’s carefully coiffured hair, so he’d told us both what he had planned and asked Becky to keep Michelle inside until after the helicopters’ arrival.
A curious crowd gathered around the two helicopters, as their rotor blades slowly stopped spinning. The side door on the first helicopter opened and a soldier ran forward and placed some steps up to the door.
Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II appeared in the doorway and took Harry’s proffered hand for support, as she stepped from the helicopter followed by Prince Phillip.
The crowd broke into spontaneous applause, which increased in volume as the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge stepped from the other helicopter.
Allan turned to me and saw the smile on my face.
“You knew?”
I nodded.
“Only for a few hours, my friend. Harry told us what was happening this morning.”
He frowned.
“But there can’t be a wedding. We don’t have a registrar.”
I laughed.
“There never was a registrar. The person you met yesterday was an aide to one of the ministers pretending she knew what she was talking about.”
“Well how the hell are we going to get marr………”
A look of panic came over his face, as it occurred to him that the Head of the Church of England, the Defender of the Faith, had just stepped from the helicopter. I watched as his brain kept suggesting and then dismissing the possibility that the Queen might be performing the marriage ceremony.
I slapped him on the back.
“Yes, mate, she is! Harry put the idea to her a few weeks ago, and she agreed that it was an unusual but wonderful proposal. No one could confirm if she could legally perform the ceremony, so I believe she used her royal prerogative to decree that she can.”
He was lost for words. He looked at me and his eyes filled with tears.
“I can’t believe it. I just wanted a quiet wedding to confirm my love for the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with. There I was moaning about what a circus it was becoming, but I take it all back. Michelle’s going to get the wedding of her dreams. I can’t thank you all enough!”
A look of trepidation settled on his face, as he saw Harry leading the Queen directly towards him.
I whispered theatrically, “Keep calm and remember your manners.”
He had no time to respond, but my remark seemed to have the desired effect because he began to look calmer.
Harry made the formal introductions.
The ceremony, which was delayed for a few hours due to the Queen’s arrival and the need to make a few changes in the marquee, couldn’t have gone better.
Michelle looked truly beautiful in her dress, and radiated happiness. The look on her face when she saw Allan in his uniform was everything we had hoped for.
The Queen, looking magnificent in a fur gown and the crown jewels, performed the ceremony with great dignity, and there wasn’t a dry eye in sight.
The day meant so much to us all. It wasn’t just a celebration of a wedding; it was setting the scene for the future.
After the wedding breakfast the Queen gave a rousing speech thanking everyone present for the contribution they had made to the recovery of the UK. It was through all our efforts, she stressed, that the country had not only picked itself up after the event, but was beginning to prosper again. Her speech concluded, she set off back to the base.
Much later, I sat with a drink in my hand, grateful for the opportunity to have a few moments to myself. The evening was warm and balmy and seemed to last for ever.
I looked round the marquee at all the people who were important to me: my family and my friends, particularly my former neighbours. We had all put so much work into the community we had created and into this place we called home.
Not really knowing why, I walked out of the marquee and down the road.
The security cordon provided by the base for our protection had been widened to include the temporary accommodation, so the gates to the compound were sitting open and unmanned.
I found myself sitting in my usu
al lookout post on the wall. I found its familiarity comforting.
As I sat enjoying the peace, my mind began to wander.
We had achieved so much already, what would the future hold?
I leaned back and closed my eyes.
Ten Years in the Future
I sat watching the traditional summer solstice celebrations.
Allan came up and handed me a bottle of homemade wine.
“We’re getting better at this wine making. This year’s vintage is the best yet; remember our early efforts? It tasted like paint stripper, but it was all we had.”
I grimaced and made choking sounds at the memory.
We were interrupted by Allan’s son, Billy running up and jumping on to his lap. He was eight and full of energy.
After a couple of minutes of tickling and hugging, he ran off to rejoin his friends, who were making the most of being allowed to stay up late.
He called after him, “Don’t forget to include your sister. She may be younger than you but she loves playing with you.”
Billy turned and shouted, “No, Dad! Katie’s OK, look she’s over there playing with her friends.”
Before Allan could respond, he was out of sight.
I topped both our glasses up and we clinked them together.
“Happy anniversary, mate,” I said.
“I know. Ten years! Who would have thought it? And where has the time gone?”
“Some would say it’s been non-stop hard work. But not me!” I replied, grinning.
I twisted in my seat to look around.
The many windows of the large country house we now lived in were brightly lit with lamps and candles.
In the fading light, I could still see the acres of crops and fields full of livestock we tended and nurtured to feed our community.
“Well, at least we know now that it was the right decision to leave the city. It was crumbling around us. We’re much better off out here. This one building, although it might be old and cold in the winter, is so much easier to maintain than all the houses we used to live in. The fields are easier to tend and the surrounding properties still give us room to expand.”