Boudicca Jones and the Quiet Revolution

by Rebecca Ward

  ‘Guys. Stop! We’re getting all the wrong kind of attention. This is just what they want so they can start laying in to everyone,’ Bodi says tersely.

  She works her way between the two of them, snatches both their hands and scrambles through to the other side of the truck.

  ‘If you touch her again,’ Reed spits his fury at Evan.

  ‘What?! What will you do? As if!’ Evan replies.

  ‘Seriously. Stop!’ Bodi hisses.

  The Square is full and people are standing in silence. Suddenly Balt’s voice booms from the speakers at the back of the truck.

  ‘London, you have come in your thousands, your tens of thousands, to take your city back!’ The crowd cheer and it is deafening after so much silence.

  ‘What the hell?!’ Bodi and Evan are confused, looking round for Balt.

  ‘It’s a recording.’ Reed points at the cab of the truck where Fergus is sitting.

  The grainy sound fills the air above the square. People strain to hear what is being said through the crude sound system. A generator whirs on the truck and occasionally it stops and judders.

  ‘This is your home and your life but it is not your own, it no longer belongs to you. For too many years we have suffered at the hands of the President and her militia.’ The crowd boo, willing participants in the theatrics of the event. The recording continues: ‘Most of us remember a time when we had a say in how we lived. When we lived in freedom and prospered. When we could drink and dance in the evenings with our loved ones and chat with our neighbours on the streets without fear of being arrested. When we could look forward to a bright future for our children. When we could buy the food we needed to live, enjoy the money we worked for.’

  Bodi looks around. Lots of people are nodding and grumbling their agreement. ‘We can have that again. It can be ours, again. It is time that every man and woman of London stands up and says ‘yes’! Say it with me: ‘Yes!’. We want a new life. YES. We want our communities to thrive. YES. We want to be free of brutality. YES. We want to earn a decent living. YES. We want education for everyone. YES. We want healthcare for everyone. YES. We want the power to run our own lives.’

  Cheers and resounding echoes of ‘yes’ ripple through the crowd. He is like an evangelist preacher whipping up the crowd into euphoria. As much as he thinks he has everyone’s good intentions at heart, he still has to be the leader that gets them there.

  ‘We are not children. We are smart people. We can make our own decisions. And I urge you, I implore you, to take that step today. To take that first step towards a new city. Reclaim your city London. Reclaim the power! It’s time to take action.’

  Bodi can feel the energy off the crowd. Balt will be able to get these people to do anything he wants now.

  ‘Turn to the authorities. Face them and say NO.’ The crown turns towards the Sick Boys standing guard around them. ‘Take the city back London. Make it your own again. Will we stand for this? No. Do you control us? No. Are we going to take this anymore? No.’

  ‘No! No! No!’ rings out around them. The crowd is starting to turn. Men link arms. Women scream in the faces of the police. Fence posts and hoardings are being torn down to create makeshift weapons.

  Bodi looks at Reed. ‘We have to do something. He’s kicking off the riot. People are going to get hurt,’ she says. Before he can reply she runs off. She can hear Reed and Evan shouting her name behind her but she has her mind set on it.

  Surging bodies force her to swim upstream. It takes all her effort to reach the cab and when she gets there the door is locked. She bangs on the window and Fergus reaches over and winds down the window.

  ‘Boudicca, you can’t be here!’ he shouts. She pushes the window down and climbs into the cab. Her legs sticking out of the window, she pushes the power button on the car radio. Balt’s voice disappears. A few people still chant in the background but it dies down as the crowd turn back to the truck to see what is going on. Bodi ejects the CD and Fergus tries to grab it but she scrambles out of the cab before he can reach her. She stands on the back of the truck poised to jump off and get away but all eyes are on her. They are expecting something from her. She tries to get down but there is nowhere to go, people start to jostle the truck. She clings on as they vent their frustration at her for ending the show. Making a split decision she climbs up the speakers and stands on top of them. She whips off her mask and her hood. She is not going to be a faceless voice inciting violence. She starts to shout but realises no one can hear her. Looking around she spots Reed and he’s handing her a microphone.

  ‘My name is Boudicca Jones and I love London.’ A tentative cheer rises near her. Bodi wracks her brains for what to say. ‘But I’m coming to realise that London no longer loves us. She is not what she was. She is tired and fragile, and frankly, she is over us. She wants us to move on and leave her in peace to die with dignity. She has stood here for a few thousand years and everything we have done in recent memory, whether it’s for the ‘good of the people’ or more often the good of a few, has dragged her backwards. We cling onto the idea of her as a great city, as the heart of all things, but she’s not. We have ruined her, trampled on her and we are all to blame. We stopped caring. We stopped noticing.

  ‘We used to be great. We stood up for what was right. Had a code we lived by. Fought against poverty, not poor people. You know what, we saw people. Saw each other.’ Bodi takes a deep breath. She is gradually winning people over. The crowd is quieter, straining to hear what she says.

  ‘I know that you love London too and that you want to build her back up again. You came here today because you want every street to be safe and you want to be happy to go to work in the morning. You want the perpetual misery of Edwina Chancellor’s presidency to end, today. But is more fighting the answer? Is more violence the answer?’

  Someone heckles her from the crowd: ‘Go home little girl!’

  Bodi laughs.

  ‘I would love to go home! I wish I could go home. And I know I look like a little girl to you but I am a young woman. I’ve had to grow up very quickly; learn how to take care of myself, in this society that keeps taking and gives little in return. This week I have lived both sides of this sad story. The authorities took my mum away, but it was the people she trusted the most that gave her up.’ Bodi stops, holding back tears when she thinks of Ruby. ‘It’s trust that we don’t have anymore. Trust in the people that govern us. Trust in those that want to change things. Trust in what we truly believe is right. Most importantly we no longer have trust in each other.’

  The crowd is calming down. People are listening to her. Bodi’s stops and tries to take a deep breath. Reed, who is crouched on the bed of the truck, smiles at her, encouraging her to continue.

  ‘The people holding those guns, yes, those ones right next to you, are Londoners too. They are doing a job, just like you do, to support their families. I have been afraid of these men my entire life. I have hated them my entire life. I didn’t see them as people. But I do now. I ask you, I implore you, to please see us as people as well.’

  The Sick Boys stand firm. Bodi had hoped they would retreat a little. Show some signs of understanding. Maybe that was a stretch? she thinks. Undeterred, Bodi turns back to the crowd. All eyes are on her.

  ‘Do you want to destroy even more of our city? Do you want to burn more of it to the ground and turn it into an even worse place to live? Do you think our voices will be heard if the rest of the city hate us? If we aren’t seen as people but as thugs and arsonists?

  ‘Think of the consequences. There are other ways for us to be heard. Reasonable and right ways to redeem the city. Ways that don’t destroy our homes. Ways to rebuild our lives here, where everyone is heard. We can-’ The microphone is grabbed roughly from her hand. She feels a strong arm wrap round her shoulder, fingers tight round her bicep. It is Balt, standing on the roof of the cabin. ‘How has he got out so quickly?’ she panics. The deal was that he would be let go only once the march was over.
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  ‘Let’s have a cheer for our young friend here.’ Balt roars. The crowd cheers in response. His outer persona oozes control, but closer up Bodi can see his eyes are seething with rage. She is ruining his big day. She pushes the microphone down and it reverbs.

  ‘You can’t be here Balt. They want you dead.’

  And almost as if Bodi commanded it, an order is declared and the guards around the perimeter pick up their guns and aim them at Balt. The crowd scream and rush towards the truck. People are getting trampled. Balt uses the cover of the chaos to jump down from the cab and drags Bodi with him. He pushes her down towards Reed with a forced smile.

  ‘You gotta break a few eggs to make an omelette!’ he says, delighted. He is clearly getting a huge buzz from the bedlam happening around them. ‘Go! You’ve done your bit. Fly home to mummy, little bird.’ He jumps off the back of the truck and runs away from them, grabbing Evan by the arm and pulls him along with him. A barrage of gunfire pummels the air.

  Petrified, Reed and Bodi clamber off the truck. Bodi can’t believe that she was minutes away from turning things around and yet again Balt swooped in to ruin things. They run towards her grandmother’s residence, through the streets which are a riot of beatings and screaming. Their ears still ringing, they hear more gunfire resounding around the Square. Balt couldn’t have orchestrated it better.

  At Green Park they find people pushing at the gates of Clarence House; some to escape the crush, others to tear it down along with the people inside it. Lit petrol bombs are pitched over the gates aimed at dispersing the guards. Reed follows Bodi as she runs down a side road. She is going to the gate she had left by this morning. People are following them, thinking that she is going to ransack the house. The guard at that gate is now two guards, both with their rifles cocked. Bodi approaches them calmly and holds her hands up to stop the crowd behind her from following.

  ‘Please. I’d like to go in. My mother is inside. She is Edwina Chancellor’s daughter, Ruby,’ she says. The crowd mutter at this revelation. ‘If you could just radio through, they will tell you that’s the case. I need to see her.’

  The guards laugh in her face.

  ‘The little revolutionary is the president’s granddaughter. Do me a favour. I know you see us as ‘people’ now and that’s all very nice, young lady, but I can’t let you in. I’m not feeling like much of a people person right now.’ More laughter.

  ‘Thomas Cleaver is my uncle. Your boss. I’m sure he’d like to hear about how unhelpful you’ve been.’ She thinks it’s worth a try but the guards look at each other nonplussed. Her uncle opens the gate behind them. ‘How does he always know…?’ she marvels.

  ‘Bit late to play the little princess card isn’t it Boudicca? ‘Don’t you know who I am?’’ he whines. ‘Unfortunately for you, I do. And it’s way too late. They’ve gone Boudicca. You don’t think the grand madame would hang around for your sorry soliloquy, do you? She left as soon those ugly, old boots of yours hit the pavement. And as for mommy dearest, she’s right by her side, drugged up to the eyeballs. Right boys, grab her!’

  Two of the guards put down their guns to go for Bodi but the crowd take their opportunity to rush the gate. Reed grabs Bodi and pulls her to the floor, covering her with his body as the crowds trample over them to get inside. The people lunge at Thomas and he disappears under the barrage of a dozen boots. Reed rolls Bodi to one side she starts to scream. Reed yelps, holding onto his side where he has been crushed.

  ‘I said I’d come back for her. I said it would be okay. And now she’s gone.’ Sobs wrack Bodi’s whole body. She is a million miles away from the euphoria she felt when she addressed the crowd. ‘And Sam, where’s Sam?’ She is panicky.

  ‘He’ll be fine B. He has a way of keeping out of trouble. Probably found the only pub that’s open and holed up there.’ A tremor in Reed’s voice shows that though he is joking he is worried too. Sam is all the family he has in the world. ‘We’ve got to get out of here. Get home. It’s all kicking off. The Sick Boys are just itching to annihilate the lot of us. I’m not sure that ‘we’re all people’ thing quite did the job!’ Even though he is mocking her Bodi laughs. She punches him in the arm.

  ‘I didn’t have much time to work on it,’ she laments.

  They look up and down the street. Some people are still trying to leave but others are fighting. Makeshift petrol bombs are being handed along to the front line. The Sick Boys are moving in en masse towards the heart of the action and there are only a few minutes before they are trapped here.

  ‘Where’s Evan?’ Bodi feels responsible for him. Her fight and his are bound together now and though Balt is free she still needs to make things right with him.

  ‘I don’t know B but we’ve got to go now. If we leave it any longer we’ll get kettled in and we’ll all get burned alive. Let’s go. Now!’

  They keep to the edge of the wall and Bodi pulls her hood up so that she won’t be recognised. Trails of red run like veins through the debris of discarded masks and banners, draining the streets of their earlier energy, and the air is thick with the smell of smoke, blood and vomit. The sound of smashing glass, the shattering whoosh of the petrol coming alight, the screams of the protestors and the steady bang of the Sick Boys’ batons against riot shields is their new soundtrack. The reality of the riot is much more terrifying than anyone could have imagined.

  Bodi runs but her legs feel separate from her body. Her head is back in that room at the Residence, her mum lying next to her and Bodi promising to return. She can never take that decision back. She chose to leave and now she will be as hunted as one of faces of Populus. She is officially one of them and unless the riots are successful – and how do you measure that kind of success? – she has lost all her freedom. Reed pulls her into a side street and flattens her against the wall with his body. He starts kissing her.

  ‘Now? We’re doing this now?’ she manages to get out before he kisses her again. Out of the corner of her eye she spots a large group of TrueSec guards marching past. A couple of them nudge each other and one of them makes the peace sign with his fingers.

  ‘Make love not war, man.’

  Bodi looks away from them and pretends to be a teenage girl whose only concern is kissing her boyfriend. ‘If only that were the case,’ she thinks.

  As they pass through the streets they see that the fighting is not confined to the centre of the city. Being at the front of the march neither of them had realised the volume of people marching. And though some have run home to escape trouble, many are still brawling. Some people are trying to leave but they are cordoned off by row upon row of Sick Boys.

  ‘We should help them,’ Bodi says, struggling to leave people behind.

  ‘Yes we should B but we can’t. The minute the guards work out who you are they’ll make an example of you. I’m not going to let that happen,’ he says, trying to be kind but sounding irritated.

  It is getting increasingly more difficult to get along the roads. Either because of serious walls of fire, or because the demonstrators or the Sick Boys are blocking streets.

  ‘I don’t think we’ll make home, or to St James’s,’ Reed says, he is exhausted and panting. He rubs his eyes which are streaming with tears, he holds his side which is bleeding. Smoke fills the streets and makes moving anywhere hard going. Bodi looks around. She sees somewhere familiar. It is the last place she wants to go but they have little choice. She points up above them a couple of streets over.

  ‘What’s that then?’ he asks.

  ‘Balt’s flat.’

  ‘You are insane. Certifiably insane.’ he drags himself along behind her.

  When they get to the foot of the stairs they are met by a huge pile of furniture. The residents have thrown all they can down the stairwell to create a barricade to prevent the Sick Boys from getting in. Reed and Bodi pull some things out of the way and endeavour to climb over the pile of old sofas and sideboards.

  ‘Maybe we should rethink this, cos there�
�s still more than a dozen floors to walk up afterwards!’ Bodi is laughing, slightly hysterically.

  ‘At least there’ll be a good view,’ he jokes.

  The two of them have picked a weird time to see the funny side of things. They laugh until their sides ache, Reed gripping his ribs. ‘Ow. Shut up B. God! Enough!’

  She pulls him over the final piece of furniture and they begin the long climb up to Balt and Evan’s flat. Half way up they stop for a breather.

  ‘How did Balt get free anyway?’ Reed asks Bodi.

  ‘I’m not very proud of it. But if you can’t beat them join them…’ she hesitates, she doesn’t want Reed to see this side of her.

  ‘What did you do this time?!’ he asks.

  ‘While I kept Thomas busy with Evan and Balt; Morag, Flip and some others went to Thomas’s house. They held Rose until Edwina instructed Thomas let Balt go.’

  ‘That’s harsh B.’

  ‘I know. I do. It’s hideous. I don’t even want to think about it. Doing that to poor Rose, but we had no choice. Tit for tat. That’s what it comes down to at times like this. My mum is going to freak when she finds out. If she ever finds out. If I ever see her again…But Rose is fine. Well I hope she is. I have no idea.’

  ‘Even after everything you want it all to be okay, don’t you? That’s pretty amazing.’

  ‘Really? I think it’s cowardly but I’m not sure there was much else I could do. As much as I don’t want Balt in my life I couldn’t take away Evan’s only parent.’

  They get to the top floor puffing and panting. Bent double they see a skewed view of their city through a broken window in the stairwell. Just like before, at a distance, the city skyline stands as it has stood for many years. Its vast majesty seems untouched.

  ‘That one,’ she says, pointing at Balt’s front door just as it opens. The sound of something mechanical whirring fills the hallway. Evan bounds out with a cardboard box in his hands and stops still when he sees them.

  ‘Er, alright?’ he greets them as if they’ve just met outside the corner shop.