The Scheme for Full Employment

by Magnus Mills

  The Scheme for Full Employment

  Magnus Mills

  PUBLISHER: Flamingo

  COPYRIGHT: ©2003

  ISBN: 0 00 715131 4

  For my father

  Leaflet

  T12

  SAMPLE DUTY

  (for training purposes only)

  Start/finish Long Reach depot.

  8.00 Collect keys.

  8.02 Attend vehicle during loading/unloading.

  8.15 Depart Long Reach depot and proceed east along Ring Road.

  10.15 Arrive Cotton Town depot. Attend vehicle during loading/unloading.

  11.00 Depart Cotton Town depot and proceed north.

  (Note: observe 20mph speed limit along Butler’s Causeway.)

  12.45 Arrive Bell Tower depot. Attend vehicle during loading/unloading.

  13.00 Dinner break.

  13.30 Attend vehicle during loading/unloading.

  13.45 Depart Bell Tower depot and proceed west.

  (Note: during diversions, drivers should be aware of low bridge at New Borough Sidings. Normal cautions apply.)

  15.00 Arrive Rudgeway depot. (Enter via Rudgeway Approach, not rear gate.) Attend vehicle during loading/unloading.

  15.45 Depart Rudgeway depot.

  16.20 Arrive Long Reach depot. Secure vehicle and return keys.

  16.30 End of duty.

  (All journeys subject to curtailment or rerouting as exigencies dictate.)

  Of course, if this had been any other country The Scheme would still be going today. In any other country it would have been regarded as a national treasure, with the entire workforce striving to maintain the high standards and principles on which it was established. As a matter of fact, many of our continental neighbours adopted versions of The Scheme for their own use, and in each case they achieved unbounded success. Yet there’s no question whose idea it was in the first place. It was ours. We thought it up. The Scheme for Full Employment was the envy of the world: the greatest undertaking ever conceived by men and women. It solved at a stroke the problem that had beset humankind for generations. Participants had only to put the wheels in motion, and they could look forward to a bright, sunlit upland where idleness and uncertainty would be banished for ever. Planned to the finest detail by people of vision, The Scheme was watertight, and could not possibly go wrong.

  Except in this country.

  In this country we managed to destroy it. We destroyed the last thing that could save us from obscurity and ruin. And we did it with our own hands too, not at the behest of some errant leader whom we could obey and then blame later. No, we can’t lay the guilt on anyone but ourselves. The Scheme was created for us, and it was we who finally brought it down.

  1

  Len Walker saw the dangers long before the rest of us. I remember a conversation we had one morning as we stood on the loading bay at Blackwell depot, watching the UniVans roll in and out of the yard. It was a fine day, the first after a long damp spell, and several drivers were treating their vehicles to a trip through the automatic wash. At the same time goods were being cleared from the bay as quickly as they came in, with not an item of clutter in sight. It was a hive of activity, and I remarked that everything appeared to be running smooth as clockwork.

  “Oh yes,” said Len. “It all looks very rosy, but you know it could easily come to an end, don’t you?”

  “Come to an end?” I said. “Surely not.”

  “It could happen overnight.”

  “But you always say we’re living in glorious days.”

  “Certainly we are! Glorious, glorious days!”

  “Well then.”

  “Well then nothing.” Len lowered his voice. “These may be glorious days, but if we lose them they’ll never come again.”

  “Why should we lose them?”

  “Because some people have started taking too much for granted. Too many liberties, if you get my meaning. I’m not naming names, but there are a few individuals around here threatening to undermine everything that’s been built up over the years. They don’t seem to realize it could collapse like a house of cards if they’re not careful.”

  “Really?”

  “Oh, it may not happen for a while yet, and I’m sure we’ll be able to continue just as we are for quite some time. Nonetheless, if we’re overcomplacent, if we fail to cherish what we have, then I tell you, one morning we’ll wake up and find it gone.”

  “Have you mentioned this to anyone else?”

  “Only those who’ll listen. There are a number of us scattered about, spreading the word, so to speak. Obviously it’s a slow process, getting through to everybody, trying to make them fully aware of the situation. Not everyone’s as conscientious as you and me.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t say I was particularly conscientious. I like an easy time, same as the next person.”

  “Maybe so,” Len replied. “But I can see you appreciate The Scheme more than most of them.”

  “Possibly.”

  “Not so sure about your assistant though.”

  “George? No, I don’t think he ever considers such matters. More interested in distributing his cakes than anything else.”

  “Well, do me a favour, will you? Try and drum the message into him and all those others who just drift along thinking this’ll last for evermore. Otherwise, ten years from now they’ll come back here and find the gates locked and trees growing up through the concrete.”

  “Alright, I’ll try my best. Look, Len, I’d better get going. Osgood’s peeping out. I’ll catch you next time round, OK?”

  “Yes. See you.”

  He moved aside and watched as I descended the steps and walked to the front of the UniVan. He was still watching when I climbed inside, and I got the feeling he was observing me to see whether his words had sunk in properly.

  I slid the cab door shut. George was sitting in the dummy seat, surrounded by a stack of pink and white boxes.

  “You been here all the while?” I said. “I thought you were going to see Osgood.”

  “No,” he replied. “I’ve decided to leave it for the moment. It’s going to require careful timing.”

  “Suit yourself. You ready to go then?”

  “Yep.”

  “Right, let’s move.”

  I started up and headed across the yard and out through the gates.

  “What were you and Len talking about?” George asked, raising his voice above the engine. “You’ve been rabbiting on for ages.”

  “Well, you know what he’s like once he gets going.”

  “Yeah …”

  “He’s been telling me how The Scheme’s likely to fizzle out of existence at any minute.”

  “He’s changed his tune. Last time I spoke to him he told me we’d never had it so good.”

  “Oh, he still believes all that,” I said. “But he thinks no one else does. Apart from a select few.”

  “What, like him and Mick Dalston when they’re up in the games room for hours on end? Keeping it spick and span, as they put it.”

  “Exactly.”

  “So what’s his problem then?”

  “Well, you know Len takes his breakfast, dinner and tea breaks all rolled together into one?”

  “Yeah,” said George. “Has done for years.”

  “But despite that he always keeps on top of the work, doesn’t he?”

  “Suppose.”

  “And when was the last time you saw a muddle on the bay at Blackwell?”

  “Can’t remember.”

  “Well, I can. It was when Len had his summer holiday and Charlie Green took over for two weeks.”

  “Oh, that’s right.”

  “And Charlie kept going on about
how Gosling was good for the clock if you leant on him a bit. Got himself signed out early three days in succession, and by the time Len came back there was enough backlog to make several loads.”

  “He got quite upset about that, didn’t he?”

  “I’ll say he did. Went up the wall, as a matter of fact. Didn’t speak to Charlie for several months. The point I’m making is that Len always does his full eight hours even though he spends half of them upstairs. He never clocks off early because he doesn’t want to jeopardize his darts, and his cards, and his snooker, and all the other leagues he’s running. He’s been on The Scheme a long time, don’t forget. He wants it all to stay exactly as it is, but he’s afraid it could crumble into nothing.”

  “Why should it?”

  “Because none of us values it enough.”

  “Oh, he hasn’t got to worry about that,” declared George. “Lenny’s trouble is he takes it all too seriously.”

  “You sure about that?”

  “Course I’m sure. Look, you know as well as I do The Scheme’s unsinkable. These UniVans were purpose-built for the task, weren’t they? Thousands of them, specially designed with interchangeable parts and immunity to rust. They’ll go for years and years if they’re looked after properly, and as long as they’ve got a future, then so have we. Nobody in their right mind’s going to take them off the road. There’d be a public outcry if they did, and besides, what would become of all the depots, and the service plants, and the ancillaries? They’re no use for anything else. Trust me, we won’t get closed down just because Charlie Green works an early swerve from time to time.”

  “Well, I hope you’re right,” I said. “If only for Len’s sake.”

  While we’d been talking we’d got onto the Ring Road and were now heading east. Every so often we encountered UniVans coming the other way, and if they were from Long Reach we gave them a flash with our headlights. (If they originated from other depots we ignored them.) We’d already said hello in this manner to Dave Whelan and Mick Clark, followed shortly afterwards by John Ford and Colin Regis. A minute later we ran into a spot of heavy traffic, and I had to slow down to just above walking speed.

  “Changing the subject,” said George. “You know I’m off the next two weeks, don’t you?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I saw the holiday list.”

  “Oh, right. Will you be OK for the cakes then?”

  I turned to him. “What?”

  “The cakes.”

  “Yes,” I said. “I know the cakes. I meant: what do you mean ‘the cakes’?”

  “Well, can you do them?”

  “Course I can’t do them.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because they’re your cakes, George. I don’t mind you bringing them on the runs when you’re here. That’s one thing. But I’m not lugging them round while you swan off on holiday.”

  “There’ll only be a few.”

  “I don’t care; I’m not doing them.”

  “But Trace’ll kill me.”

  “That’s between you and Trace,” I said. “The Scheme doesn’t exist for your girlfriend’s personal benefit, you know.”

  “I’m aware of that,” said George. “But, come on, as a favour to me. You know I’ll see you alright.”

  Suddenly something dawned on me. “This is why you put off seeing Osgood this morning, isn’t it? You’ve got to ask him as well.”

  George sighed. “Yeah. Look, mate, I could really do with your help on this one. I know she pushes it a bit sometimes, but when you’ve got a job like ours you have to make the most of it, don’t you?”

  “If you say so.”

  “And you won’t need do them Wednesday.”

  “Why, what’s Wednesday?”

  “February 29th.”

  “So?”

  “Leap year, isn’t it? There’s no birthdays. Not round here, anyway.”

  “Well, that’s something to celebrate,” I said. “Hello, what are they up to?”

  Waiting to emerge from a junction just ahead of us was a UniVan containing the two Steves. Actually, I could only see Steve Moore from this angle. He was behind the wheel as usual, but I knew that the person lost from view in the dummy seat would be Steve Armstrong. What caught my attention, though, was the way the vehicle was being driven, which struck me as slightly out of character. Rather than forcing his way into the line of traffic, in the manner typical of most drivers on The Scheme, Steve was politely holding back, waiting for a space to appear. None did, of course, as nobody wanted to get stuck behind a UniVan if they could avoid doing so. It would be up to me to let him in, and as we drew nearer I flashed the lights and waited for some sort of acknowledgement. Instead, without even a glance in our direction, he simply pulled forward into the gap I’d left him, and then went straight across the junction and up the road opposite! At the same moment I realized that he was quite alone in his cab. Steve Armstrong was nowhere to be seen.

  “Who does he think he is?” I cried. “Cutting across there like that!”

  “Dunno,” said George. “Bit dodgy coming off the authorized, isn’t it? I thought he and Steve were supposed to be on twenty-two.”

  “So did I! See the way he just cruised in front of us without so much as a nod?”

  I had to admit I was rattled by the sight of Steve Moore gaily sailing along an unauthorized route, enjoying the freedom of the road and doing so completely on his own. As far as I knew this was unheard of. In all the time I’d been on The Scheme I’d only ever had a UniVan to myself when we were parked up and George was off performing one of his many private errands. To drive without an accompanying assistant was prohibited, and having seen Steve doing just that made me feel quite envious. How, I wondered, did he think he would get away with it at eleven o’clock in the morning, in broad daylight?

  “He’ll get booked if he carries on like that,” remarked George.

  “Yes,” I agreed. “Let’s hope he does.”

  We watched as Steve’s vehicle gradually disappeared into the hinterland of side streets, industrial premises and warehouses that lay to the south of the Ring Road. Then, without further speculation, we continued on our way. We were due to arrive at Cotton Town depot at twelve forty-five, but as usual by mid-morning we were well ahead of schedule. This didn’t bother us, though, as we had an extra call to make. After another two miles I pulled up beside a parade of shops, and George clambered out with his stack of cake boxes.

  “Do you want to come and say hello to Sandro?” he asked. “So you’re clued up for next week?”

  “You’ve decided I’m doing them after all then, have you?”

  “Oh come on, mate. I thought you’d agreed.”

  “Alright, but you’d better bring me back a stick of rock.”

  “Where from?”

  “The seaside.”

  “I’m not going to the seaside in February, am I?”

  “Where are you going then?”

  “Nowhere.”

  “Well, you can still get me a stick of rock,” I said. “It’ll give you something interesting to do while you’re off work.”

  “Thanks, pal.”

  Strictly speaking it was a bookable offence to leave the vehicle unattended, but nearly everyone did it these days so I switched off and we went to Sandro’s Bakery, taking care to leave the cab doors shut. We’d had the heater switched on since ten to eight that morning and we didn’t want to lose the warmth so carefully accumulated. The fiery blast that hit us when we entered the kitchen, however, made us wonder why we’d bothered.

  “Blimey,” I murmured as George ushered me inside. “Imagine having to work in this heat all the time.”

  I had in fact met Sandro on one former occasion when Trace saddled George with so many cakes that I’d had to help him carry them all in. He appeared to have forgotten this, however, and it was easier for the two of us to be introduced afresh. In truth, there was only time for a quick handshake and exchange of greetings because Sandro and his assis
tants were rushing round like madmen, each apparently performing several tasks at once, just as they had been on my previous visit. This call was really just so that Sandro would know me when I turned up with the cakes next week, but when we departed a few minutes later I had a large bagful of doughnuts in my hand, presented as a gesture of goodwill. This made it quite worthwhile. We sat in the cab and ate half of them, and I decided that helping George out wasn’t going to be such a hardship after all.

  We’d also collected one additional box from the bakery. This contained the cake that George hoped to leave overnight in Osgood’s office. It had received its coat of icing and was now ready for the next stage in its journey, namely, to be passed into the hands of Pete Giggs.

  “How long’s Pete got left on run seven?” I asked, as George carefully placed the cake on top of the dashboard.

  “Finishes end of next week,” he replied. “Then he goes onto fourteen.”

  “So he’ll be no use to you for a while after that.”

  “It’s not a question of use,” George protested. “It’s a mutual arrangement. I help him with his bits and pieces. He helps me with mine.”

  “Osgood’s not going to be so easy though.”

  “Well, he was alright last time I asked him. Should be OK if I handle him carefully. I think I’ll have to regard this as a test case.”

  By the time we got moving again it was comfortably past twelve o’clock, so we enjoyed a pleasant spin along the Ring Road before pulling into Cotton Town exactly on schedule. This was fortunate because Hoskins was standing just inside the gate timing everyone in. He gave me a little sort of friendly nod as we passed by, but I paid him no attention at all and went straight across the yard before reversing back onto the loading bay. We were supposed to spend the next fifteen minutes waiting by the vehicle on the off-chance that someone would come and unload it before one o’clock. In reality, of course, the morning was already considered to be over, so after a quick check to make sure Hoskins was still busily engaged at the gateway, we slipped off for dinner.