by Rebecca Ward
‘You can choose your friends but not your family.’ Bodi can see that this week has really taken it out of her as well. ‘Maybe I can get someone to help me carry you out of here. I just need to get out first.’
‘What if you get caught? Those asshole Sick Boys are everywhere.’
‘Well I can always say I was looking for the kitchen. What is it with rich people and food? I’m starving!’
‘Is there a basement? Wherever’s the furthest you can get from here I guess. I don’t know this place at all, I didn’t grow up here.’ Ruby rubs her daughter’s arm. ‘You have to come back, promise me. I can’t lose you again. It’s been the worst week of my life.’
‘Can’t say it’s been that much fun for me either.’ Bodi smiles. ‘Of course I’ll come back and then we’ll do a runner from the old lady.’
‘I seem to have spent my life running away from her but somehow she always finds me.’ Ruby sounds resigned to this situation. Bodi wants to stay to reassure her. It feels weird to leave her mum so soon after she has found her, but she has to believe that she will be safe here for a few hours.
‘Right. I’m off.’ She kisses her mother’s cheek. ‘See you in a bit Ma. Love you.’
‘Love you.’ Her mum lightly squeezes her hand goodbye. Bodi can feel the small amount of strength her mum has.
Mother waved the newspaper in Ruby’s face.
‘What were you thinking?! THIS! I have to wake up to THIS?! I can’t even…’ She picked up another paper and waved it at her, and another. The image of Ruby on top of the Boudicca statue was front page news. It would seem she was now a ‘hooligan’, an ‘anti-royalist’ and a ‘terrorist in the making’.
Ruby sat with her arms crossed defiantly trying to stare her mother down. Rose stared down at the kitchen table. They had been roused by their mother’s hysteria and dragged from their beds.
‘And you? I would have thought better of you.’ She turned on Rose who stifled a sob but said nothing.
‘It’s not her fault. Don’t shout at her,’ Ruby said vehemently. ‘I made her come.’ Ruby didn’t see any point in both of them going down for this. Rose had carried the can for her so many times before.
A sharp ‘Get out!’ from her mother sent Rose fleeing up the stairs, the tears now free flowing.
‘I’ve had more than enough of you. It’s time for you to pack your bags.’
‘What?’ Ruby was amazed. This was harsh, even for her mother.
‘You heard me. Pack your bags. You so clearly don’t want to be a part of this family so perhaps it’s time you left.’ Her mother pointed at the front door.
‘You’re kicking me out?!’
‘I would say you’ve been half way out the door for some time now Ruby. I know for a fact that you haven’t been going to that school I’m shelling out good money for. You come home whenever you feel like it, looking like a deranged mess. Heaven knows what drugs you’re on?!’ At this Ruby rolled her eyes. She wasn’t on anything. Why did adults always think you were on something if you didn’t play the game? Honestly. Her mother hadn’t finished: ‘You treat this place like a hotel and you spend so much time with these people you might as well be one of them.’
At ‘these people’ Ruby rankled, she stood up to lean in to her mother.
‘These people have purpose, mother. They are not just self-serving egomaniacs like some people. These people will probably have more of an impact on the country than some people ever will. These people will tear down everything some people have spent their meaningless lives obsessing over.’ Ruby spat the words at her mother. Relieved to have the opportunity to say what she was feeling. It felt like a weight lifted not to have to pussyfoot around her any longer.
‘Is that so? Well, good luck with that. See how you like a country that flounders without strong leadership. See how you like a country overrun by layabouts and miscreants. Every day I spend in those godforsaken chambers…’
‘You’re keeping us safe. I know! But are you? Are we really safe? And what are we safe from? What’s so terrible about change? What’s so terrible about a little less control?’
‘I am not going to stand here and have all I stand for and all I’ve built be torn down by my teenage daughter. You know nothing of the world. You know nothing of life. Just you wait, young lady.’ Her mother was on her soapbox.
They were interrupted by the phone which her mother answered with a series of curt ‘yes’s’. She slammed the phone down.
‘I’m being called in. I’ll be hauled over the coals for this. Why, for once, could you not think of someone other than yourself?’
‘That’s what I was doing mother. Thinking about everyone, not just myself, not just you. God forbid you, the grand Edwina Chancellor, should get a bit of bad press. God forbid, you take my side and show me some support. And no one knows that’s your daughter, not really. It’s not like they’ve ever seen us together since we were rolled out ten years ago for photo opps. We’re stuck here every day while you’re off kissing arse all day and night.’
Edwina smacked her daughter in the face.
‘Ungrateful little…’ she muttered as Ruby stood there aghast. Her own palm comforting the spot where her mother’s had struck her.
Edwina left the room for the car waiting outside. ‘Don’t be here when I get back Ruby. And have a good life.’
MONDAY
Bodi tiptoes to her room, changes into her own clothes, and boots in hand tiptoes down the stairs. She creeps through the dining room to the parlour and pushes along the walls trying to find the hidden door the maid used at dinner. She carefully makes her way down the stairs to discover a long corridor with stone flagging and a low ceiling. Bodi can see the staff entrance at the end of the passage and an alarm panel glows next to it. She is surprised when she gets close enough to read the electronic display: “Enter code to reset alarm.” Has someone forgotten to set the alarm? She thinks that is unlikely. She tries the doorknob tentatively and it swings open. The alarm doesn’t go off. Seems that not everyone is loyal in the president’s household.
Shutting the door quietly behind her, she crouches down behind a low garden wall to work out what her next move might be. The sodden thud of the weary patrolman’s boots march by her head. Once he is safely round the corner she creeps low and slow to the back of the garden and hides behind a bush. Barbed wire covers the top of the wall, there is no way she can get over that. She feels around the wall, clambering over flower beds and trying to disappear into the shadows. She finds a recess. Trailing ivy covers a small wooden gate with a bolt across. Good for keeping people out but not ideal for keeping them in. She scrapes the bolt across bit by bit trying not to make a sound and carefully opens the gate. She had found a tiny hand mirror on the dressing table in her room, she pokes it out into the street to see what she is up against. ‘Reading old crime novels really comes in handy sometimes,’ she thinks. A guard is propped up right next to the gate. His rifle’s barrel rests against his leg, the butt on the floor. His hat has fallen over his face, resting on his nose, and a small snore emanates from under it. ‘Tut, tut, sleeping on the job,’ Bodi reprimands. She prays that the door has been oiled recently but no such luck. Every single time she edges it an inch it groans louder. There is nothing else for it, she has to give it one huge push and run. She kicks the gate with all her might and it swings back and hits the guard full on.
‘Stop!’ the startled guard shouts after her, fumbling for his gun. ‘Stop right there!’ By the time he has got the rifle in position she is round the corner and on her way. Someone is watching over her today, she is sure of it. Making use of the abandoned streets, she races through the no man’s land. Her greatest fear is that riots would lead to yet more oppression. They all have to find a way to manage the march so that real change can begin, rather than them being written off as imbeciles and arsonists.
Walking through more residential areas, she notices that people are up much earlier than usual. Smoke curls from chimneys
and small shafts of light escape from drawn curtains. Neighbours are moving between houses, carrying sleeping children, food and flasks. It is like watching a silent black and white movie. Bodi notices that every single adult she sees is dressed like her, head to toe in black. This is no ordinary day of rest. There is a noticeable hum of anticipation as they prepare to protest. Populus is no longer the driving force behind the march. The people are also rising up to reclaim their city.
Bodi walks up to the top of Primrose Hill. Groups of people are already gathering there, eyes squinting against the sunrise that heralds the start of this extraordinary Halloween day. Most have painted their faces or have homemade masks perched on top of their heads. Word has got round that TrueSec will be recording their every movement and as brave as they are, people want to hide their identities. The mood is convivial though that belies an underlying current of nerves and tension. They are walking into the unknown and are scared that what is intended to be a peaceful protest will inevitably turn ugly. Despite their anger and hunger for change, they aren’t violent people. They have lived through enough of that already. They want to rebuild their lives. Be heard.
Bodi spots Sam and makes her way over to him.
‘You managed to follow them from the meet yesterday?’ she says, skipping any formal hellos.
‘Yes, we know where they’re holding him. We’ve had someone on it all night and we have a few contacts working inside so if he’s moved we’ll know about that as soon as it happens.’
‘And Reed?’
‘I persuaded him to lead another group coming in from south London.’ Sam says.
‘Good. Best he’s kept out of it.’
Sam nods. A hunting horn bellows behind them.
‘Sounds like it’s time to go,’ Bodi says, a frisson of excitement in her voice.
Sam hands her a mask. It is white with blue war paint smeared across both eyes.
‘I thought it was about time our new warrior queen came out to play,’ Sam says theatrically.
Her breath flushes across her face behind the mask. It is claustrophobic but also reassuring. No one, friend or foe, will recognise her with it on. The group starts walking down the hill in silence. The closer they get to the centre of the city more and more people join them. Leaving their homes and loved ones behind them, men and women in black with painted faces or masks come out of houses and snake in behind them. Their numbers swell at every junction. They are a silent, black river of skulls flowing into the heart of the city.
Nerves start to jangle as they encounter groups of Sick Boys. No one marching looks at or acknowledges them. The march continues in silence through the streets. Ultimately they want rid of these jumped up militia but that is not their fight today, their sights are set on bigger things. The traffic has stopped, doors shut, shops shuttered. The city has responded to its people’s wishes and left the veins free for the blood to flow to its heart, to give it new life. Bodi walks near the front of her group alongside Sam. Masks hide the faces of the other Populus members but she knows they are each leading a group that joins them along the way. They walk down Park Lane where the once luxurious hotels are run like mini citadels. Places of gambling and trafficking, where people fight for their lives every single day. Gangs and slumlords rule the streets here, a reimagining of Fagin’s London. There are hollers from the windows and wolf whistles as they pass but most of the residents are too strung out to take in what is happening outside.
By now the march is tens of thousands strong. Progress is getting slower as they meet more and more groups at Wellington Arch. The Sick Boys have set up a huge roadblock there and the march halts. Guns are loaded but pointed skyward. Even TrueSec acknowledge that this is a riot in the making, and so much bigger than anything they have seen before.
A voice bellows from a tannoy system: ‘Return to your homes. This is an unlawful demonstration. You can go no further.’
The crowd stand firm. They are not going to fall at the first hurdle. Still no one speaks. This tactic unnerves the guards, they are used to verbal abuse giving them reason to retaliate. They repeat the warning. By now they are surrounded and outnumbered. Sam rifles through some sheets of paper, looks up and studies the faces to determine who is who among the guards. He steps forward and proffers one of the pieces of paper to a grunt who takes it and passes it to the superior Sam has been eyeballing. He balks, looks around him and commands: ‘Stand down. Let them through.’ The guards look surprised. His deputy questions him but he isn’t going to change his mind. They move the barriers back slowly.
‘What is on that piece of paper?’ Bodi whispers to Sam when he resumes his place next to her.
‘His home address. The address of his mother. His sister’s and his in-laws. Even the big dogs won’t bite when their families are involved,’ Sam says.
Bodi doesn’t need to ask how he has got the information. Balt has been working on this plan for years, and his plan is being seen through to the letter even if he isn’t there to execute it.
‘Do you have people there? Holding them?’ Bodi doesn’t really want to know the answer.
‘Maybe. Maybe not. But he has no way of finding that out right now. The power of information trumps brute force once again, my dear.’
They start to lead the rally forward again. The sheer number of people joining the protest makes for very slow going. As they make their way through Green Park, Bodi looks towards the walls of Clarence House. Her mum is still in there most probably facing questions about her daughter’s whereabouts. She promised Ruby she would be back in a couple of hours, though she hadn’t said she would be returning with tens of thousands of people. While this is still a peaceful demonstration Bodi fears for her mum’s safety. If this turns bad Clarence House will be one of the first places to get ransacked. She tries to move towards the gates but she can’t get across the crowd. They are packed in and there is no way to change course. Sam grabs her hand and pulls her back towards him.
‘Don’t get lost. We need to stick together,’ he hisses at her.
‘Did you know, about who my grandmother was?’ she asks.
‘I had my suspicions. Now shhh.’
They get to Old Parliament Square eventually. Bodi sees a truck loaded with speakers is leading their sister march across Westminster Bridge from the south. She can see a familiar figure standing at the front of the truck. The face paint and clothes cannot conceal Reed from her. He grips the side of the truck’s cab and looks like he has shed the boy she had first met.
She has to get to him. He will help her get Ruby away from Edwina. But she knows that if she runs to him things will start to fall apart. The crowd will follow her lead and there could be casualties. She moves carefully across the front of her group leaving Sam looking round for her. She skirts round the edges, aware that the Sick Boys are watching everything, weapons in hand. She doesn’t fancy a baton to the kidneys so walks with the group a little further. When a gap appears, she tries to run across to meet Reed’s truck but before she can get there an arm reaches out and grabs her.
‘What the…! Get off me!’ she yelps.
‘Shhh!’ Her assailant lifts his mask. Evan slams her back against the wall next to him. She wriggles her arm from his grip, trying to summon the self-defence techniques that Balt had taught her. She’s sure neither of them anticipated she would be using them on Evan.
‘Evan, what are you doing? How did you even know it was me?’ He lifts a stray red curl that has escaped out of the side of her hoodie. She tucks it back in.
‘I have to get to Reed. I need his help with something,’ she begs.
‘No way Boo. You’re coming with me. I don’t know what you’ve cooked up with Sam but I can’t see my dad anywhere about, can you? This is his march and he’s not here to lead it. It’s not right. You and me, we need to go see your old mate Tommy the Sick Boy and get him back.’
‘Not now Ev. It’s all in hand. Honestly.’ She lifts her mask and looks at him. She sees in his eyes the s
adness and fear that she has felt for the past week.
‘How can I trust you now?’ his voice breaks, despite his bluster. He feels she has betrayed him and she feels terrible because it is true.
‘I’m so sorry Ev. Really.’ She squeezes his hand. He slumps against the wall.
‘Promise me we’ll get him back. Can you promise?’ his eyes plead with her. He looks like a young child.
How can I promise anything right now? she thinks. There’s no way I want Balt leading anything after what he did to me and mum, but I don’t want him to die and I definitely don’t want to lose Evan. She leans in and gives him a hug.
‘It’s on you,’ he whispers in her ear.
‘Feels like everything is right now,’ she says.
Bodi takes advantage of Evan being off guard to run to Reed’s truck. He pulls her up by one hand.
‘It’s not safe for you here B. You need to go. If anyone finds out…’ he stops. He looks towards the road that leads to the President’s residence.
‘Who I am? Reed, I didn’t even know that until yesterday. How can I be responsible for that?!’ she says.
‘It won’t matter to them. The truth tends to go unnoticed at times like these,’ he replies.
‘I need your help. My mum, she’s being held hostage in there and I can’t get her out by myself. They’ve drugged her and she’s too weak to escape.’
‘How? Tell me. How can we do that Bodi?’
‘Just come. Please.’
Someone pulls at her leg and Bodi grabs hold of Reed. It is Evan. She kicks back, clinging onto Reed but it is no good, the three of them land in a heap at the side of the truck.
Reed leaps at Evan, fists flying. ‘Don’t touch her!’ he yells. The Sick Boys notice and are on their way over, happy to have someone to get stuck into.