by Tim Orchard
But Postmistress P interrupted Petal before she could respond. Even before Paloney had asked her to help organize this meeting, she’d put some of the pieces together, the two from London and them wanting to find D.C. Something to do with drugs. If it meant that the island could survive, she was for it. On her feet, Penelope sucked her teeth. “Liz, Thatcher isn’t a politician, you can’t expect a change of policy from her; she’s a thug, a juggernaut, she just rolls over you.”
Maybe it was her tone of voice or some element of threat in P’s posture, but the other woman drew her children toward her and said, defiantly, “I voted for Maggie.”
Sweetly, the postmistress replied, “I hope she has made you very happy.”
With the shop and post office, most things passed through Penelope’s hands or were heard by her ears or seen by her eyes. Had she wanted to, she could say plenty about the finances of the island, the black economy, the work on the farms and the effects on the island of the blow-ins. Penelope knew because she cashed their dole checks, dished out the old age peeps’ pensions, gave credit late in the week. As D.C. said, it was time to stand up.
She said, “We all have our own ideas about what is right or wrong, but I agree with Petal, this is an opportunity, we should come together, and a co-op is a really good idea. Come on, let’s show a bit of community spirit. This is like a gift, and if we can keep the island going with this money, I, for one, think we should.” She paused and there was a nodding of heads and glances of agreement. She wasn’t finished. “On another note, I know some of you here don’t like the blow-ins, but they have brought new life to the island. The place was on its last legs ten years ago. There were barely enough people to work the farms, and regardless of what some of you think, without the blow-ins the island would already be dead. They keep the post office and the shop open.”
Ethel, a tough-looking old bird of about sixty in a man’s flat cap, chipped in. “I moved here in the fifties. I was a blow-in back then, but I’m still here. This is my home and I’m not moving even if they cut the ferry. I agree with the postmistress. If this is the only way, I’m for it.”
The hippie nervously raised his hand again. “Can’t we keep some?”
Quite a few of the blow-ins laughed. D.C. swung around in his seat. “Well, most of us that like a puff have already had some and you too, but this ain’t about ten quids’ worth of grass. This is about everybody on the island. This is about our survival.”
He pulled a spliff out of his top pocket, sparked it up, and took a long pull. As he exhaled he held the joint out for any takers—no one moved, not even the hippie, who was too far back. D.C. took another pull and the sweet, pungent odor drifted in eddies among the villagers. Nostrils flared but still there were no takers. D.C. took another drag and held it up again.
Paloney took the joint and held it aloft, the disbelieving stares of the islanders upon him. “I know I’m supposed to uphold the law, but I became a policeman to serve people and I’m here to serve this island. Maybe I wasn’t born here, but I want the best for this island, and in that way, I am one of you. I know I’ve only been here a comparative short while, but I feel it’s my home too. I don’t want to have to leave—I say let’s take the bounty of the sea.”
And then, ceremoniously, he handed the joint back to D.C., un-toked.
27
When Henry Stick arrived back at the house all was quiet. Dick didn’t seem to be around. He went to his favored spot, the long couch in the living room, and lay down to sleep off the few beers he’d had that afternoon. When he awoke he had a shower and went to the kitchen to make a sandwich and saw Dick’s note about the meeting, propped on the table. Dick had omitted to give a time when the meeting started or what it was about. Henry went to Dick’s flat to see if the lad had already left.
Meanwhile, half an hour earlier, Amber had made a big decision. Her father, and what she’d told him and what he could do, sat heavy on her. She knew it was emotional, knew that if she hadn’t run into Dick, she probably wouldn’t care. But everything had changed. Doing the dirty on your own father didn’t feel right, but there wasn’t any other option. Love had her. Amber had to tell Dick the truth, it had become an imperative. If she didn’t it would be a blight on every moment they had enjoyed and a blight on any future they may have.
When she arrived at Dick’s flat he wasn’t there. She flopped onto the couch, not sure now what to do. He’d already gone to the church for the meeting, and for a moment she thought about going to tell him, but the idea was just too scary. Amber could muster enough nerve to tell Dick about her dad, but not the whole island. She jumped to her feet when she heard the outside door opening and ran into the hall. “Dick, we’ve got to talk! I’ve got something I have to tell you, something I really, really should have told you already. It’s important. It’s about—”
Henry, whiskers and hair slicked back like some kind of shambling hillbilly, was a surprise. She stopped in her tracks. It wasn’t hard to guess that the man before her was Dick’s father. He was big, like a version of Simp gone to seed, but there was enough of his son there, in the eyes and the shoulders. Amber tried to stay calm, but there was already too much, just too much. This wasn’t the moment to meet the new boyfriend’s father.
Amber didn’t often cry, didn’t want to cry, but control was slipping and she could feel the tears damming up behind her eyes. The only thing Dick had told her about his dad was that he liked to shout. One thing she didn’t think she could deal with right now was being shouted at. Her own father shouted, and if she didn’t find Dick and warn him, her dad would arrive in the morning and something nasty would happen. This wasn’t how things were supposed to be. When people said love altered everything, and it did, was this what they meant? Despite herself, Amber burst into tears. “I haven’t done anything! Please don’t shout at me, please!”
Henry stopped in his tracks, figuring that this must be the girl from the tent. Shout? He was in a fine mood, why would he want to shout? He’d settled, almost, on a decision. Anyway, he didn’t know this girl, and what’s more, you couldn’t shout at a crying girl. Could you? On the other hand, you couldn’t have strangers wandering about your house willy-nilly. He tried not to sound too gruff. “What’s so important?” When she didn’t answer, he waved vaguely in her direction. “Well?”
Amber sobbed, “I thought you were Dick but he must already be at that meeting.”
A little patch of carpet splashed with evening sunlight caught her eye and she looked down at it, and half of her hoped when she looked back up again he would be gone, but he was still there. Haltingly, she said, “They are all at that meeting.”
Henry’s big loose mouth blew an involuntary sigh of disdain. He hated bloody meetings. “And?”
In over her head with Dick’s father, her father, both fathers, the situation, Dick, everything, Amber was at a loss. She prevaricated through her tears. “Don’t know, but Dick said the whole island was involved. It’s complicated.”
Most of the time Henry didn’t do complicated, but he made an effort. Something was going on and he needed to catch up. Meetings these days usually had something to do with the ferry. “Okay. If it’s about the ferry, I’m a part, a big part, of this island. Why ain’t I involved?” Even when Henry didn’t mean to sound harsh, he sounded harsh. Amber ducked her head, like a dog waiting for a kick, and Henry tried to tone it down further, way down into something that wouldn’t scare a newt. This time, his voice emerged gently: “What’s going on, please?”
Amber knew everything because Dick had told her and because her dad and Simp had told her too. She also knew Henry knew absolutely nothing. Amber dropped back down onto the couch, put her head into her hands, and started to cry harder. Dick was all she could think about. In a rush, she stuttered, “I-I think I love him! I do love him. It’s only been—can you really be in love after two days? I can’t help it. My dad’s going to go mad.”
Henry didn’t know what he was expecting, but an open
declaration of love from a strange girl who was decidedly not Petal wasn’t it. He put his hands up to his face for half a second and hid behind his cupped palms, then he put them in his pockets. It was going to happen eventually: Dick would leave. And Henry only had to look at the girl on the couch to know the future was here and now. After what he’d been thinking about when he was in Dymchurch, it was almost a relief.
It had taken years of sorrow and anger at his loss before he’d understood the mistake he’d made by coming back. The bitterness he’d felt toward his own father was never resolved and it had carried over into the rest of his life. He’d lost good friends and a wife and made silly enemies, he’d turned from an openhearted, generous man into—well, he didn’t know what. Sometimes he couldn’t look at himself. The idea of Dick leaving him all alone scared him. From an early age, he’d more or less forced Dick to take over much of the farm’s day-to-day running, hoping the responsibility would keep him at home. But not very deep down he knew Dick would leave, as he’d done in his day.
Henry swallowed and said, even more gently, “What’s going on?”
For Amber that made things worse. She’d thought she didn’t want to be shouted at, but sometimes a soft word was worse, much worse. Tears rolled, Amber grizzled. “I’m sorry, we—we just—it happened. It was like one of those films where people meet each other, like love at first sight. We couldn’t help it…”
Although it went against the grain, Henry reached down and patted the girl’s shoulder. His touch was warm and comforting and surprised them both. She looked up at him big-eyed.
Henry moved to an armchair opposite her and said, quietly, “Come on now, wipe your eyes. You’d best tell me what’s going on. You and Dick and what?”
Tears were palmed away, sobs suppressed, as Amber tried to move things forward. “I told my dad where the bales were. It was stupid and I shouldn’t have done it, like I knew it was wrong even as I told him, but he’s my dad. Anyway, Dick and that other girl and a couple of others, they moved the stuff, and when Dad gets here and can’t find it…”
Still in the dark, Henry scratched his beard. “I don’t understand. What did they move? What’s this about your dad? Bales of what? What’s he after?”
That did it. Amber teetered. The truth hurt, but she didn’t have anywhere else to go.
Henry sat back, amazed at his own uncharacteristic patience, as he waited for the full picture to emerge. He held his breath, because change was a strange thing. Life went on as though nothing would alter its direction, inertia ruled until it didn’t. Then the whole world started to slip and slide. Here he was, sitting in his son’s flat, a place he knew as well as he knew himself, but what he was looking at, when he looked at this girl, was something altogether new.
After she’d blown her nose, Amber told Henry everything. They went together down to the cellar and looked at the bales of grass. Amber told Henry what she remembered about the ferry and Petal’s idea and about the meeting. Even as he looked at the bales of marijuana, it was hard to take it all in. This had all been going on and he’d known nothing. Enough elements of his ancestry were still in him, enough at least for him to visualize a time when smuggling was the family’s trade and this cellar was stacked with wine, brandy, claret, and lace. Henry sat atop one of the bales and thought.
He thought about Amber and about Dick, he thought about the past, he thought about the future, he thought about his life on the island and what would happen when the ferry stopped, he thought about the law and the life his ancestors must have lived and how hard it must have been and the circumstances that had driven them to break the law of the land, he thought about Amber’s dad and a bunch of thugs coming down to strong-arm himself and his neighbors. He thought it was time to stand up.
28
When Postmistress P had finished speaking, hands sprang up. Petal was ready. She waved her arms for a bit of quiet. “Okay, I’ve done a bit of research and I’ve got to say, it’s all pretty boring stuff, so when you’ve had enough just tell me to shut up.” She began to count the things she’d learned off on her fingers. “Right, cooperatives are owned and controlled by the members. That would be us, and everybody on the island would get a vote. We have to prepare a business plan. We have to choose something called a governing document, which would set out our co-op’s rules. We need a name. We need to set up a bank account. We have to vote in directors, a chairperson, a secretary.”
One of the blow-ins shouted, “All right, all right, enough already!”
There was laughter and Petal laughed too. “I told you it was boring. But there is one more thing.” One arm in the air, a single finger pointing to the ceiling, she said, “We need a quorum!”
Probably 90 percent of the people there had absolutely no idea what a quorum was, but Julie started to giggle, Si had a big crooked grin on his chops, John Newman gave her the thumbs-up, and D.C. made silent clapping gestures. Postmistress P apart, most everybody else looked bemused.
Paloney and the vicar joined Petal at the head of the church, in front of the altar, ready to call for a vote, when Henry Stick barged in through the closed church doors, Amber beside him. Heads turned. Everyone in the building knew Henry and everyone knew what he was like, a force of nature. Most winced. The rest goggled at Amber.
Without acknowledging a soul, Henry strode up the aisle. Before he reached the altar, he stopped and glanced behind him. Amber had come to a halt where Dick was sitting. They were touching hands and looking stupidly into each other’s eyes. Henry came back and, taking Amber by the hand, said quickly to Dick, “Look, son, you two can sort things out later, but right now there are more important things and I need Amber.”
Dick watched, stunned, mouth agape, as Amber and his father went hand in hand up the aisle. Petal gave Amber the pure evils as she and Henry stepped up. It was a pointless gesture. The church was crowded and there was so much going on in Amber’s head, just standing there made her feel like a sacrificial lamb. All eyes were on her and it was like a moment in a film she’d seen, where a girl was made to stand on a box in front of some fundamental Christians and tell her sins.
Much to everyone’s surprise, Henry shook hands with the vicar, Paloney, and Petal. As he shook Petal’s hand, he said, “This whole co-op thing was your idea, right?”
Petal nodded. Henry smiled at her. Petal blinked back in surprise. She couldn’t remember him smiling at her before, ever.
He said, “Good idea, very clever.” and turning to Paloney, “Who knows about this?”
The policeman waved at the gathered people. “Well, we all know now. The whole island knows. In fact, we were just about to take a vote before you arrived.”
Henry turned back to Petal. “Who found it in the first place?”
Petal sighed. Things weren’t turning out quite as she had imagined. She nodded toward D.C. “Me, my dad, Si—” She paused and, with a twist in her voice, added, “And Dick.”
Henry Stick looked over at his son, who shifted his eyes and gave his head a few ambiguous nods and shakes. Dick had no idea who that man was, impersonating his dad. As though there was only one answer to Dick’s mystification, D.C. sparked up another spliff and passed it back to him.
For the first time in a long time, Henry had actually surprised people, even his son, and he didn’t know why but he wanted to laugh. It felt good to surprise people. He asked, “What do we know about the people who’re looking for the bales?”
Paloney said, “The only people who’ve had any real contact with them are D.C., Julian, and Penelope.”
Henry gave a little laugh and pointed to Amber. “She may be able to help you there.” Then, to Paloney, he asked, “What about your lot? Won’t the police be after us?”
PC Paloney shook his head. “My superiors don’t know anything about this. They won’t catch us. They won’t know unless someone tells them, and it won’t be me.”
On his feet again, D.C. offered, loudly, to take the blame. He thumped himself on the
chest. “If a scapegoat is needed, I’m your man.”
Not everyone believed him, but Julie and John stood beside him and, to everyone’s surprise, Henry too.
Paloney shook his head. “Let’s not go mad, this ain’t a Spartacus situation.”
To calm some of the people’s fears of the law and prison, Julie and John offered to take responsibility for setting up the co-op and to put their names to the legal documents, if needed.
Henry clapped his hands to get attention. “Anyway, if we are going to go through with this, we better listen to what this young woman has to say.” He reached down and gave her hand a little squeeze.
Amber looked out on the little world in front of her, coughed, stuttered, then said, “His name is Carter, he’s my dad. I came down here to find out where the grass was hidden.” She paused, and Dick’s look of total shock rocked Amber. She felt her chin tremble, bit her lip and held hard. She’d done enough crying; now only the truth would work. “I told him where it was.”
Dick’s mouth opened and he shot forward in his seat, shaking his head in disbelief. Was he a complete fool! He’d taken Amber totally on face value, and now Petal was there shaking her head, a crooked little smile of triumph on her face. Dick didn’t know if he was angry or hurt or humiliated. He made to speak but there were no words, and Amber kept her eyes on him as she continued: “He’s planning to come down here tomorrow and take it back.”