Riverflow

by Alison Layland

  As he reached higher ground, the view opened up. Quiet grey fields stretched beyond the nearby lights of Foxover, with scattered villages hugging the distant hillsides on the far side of the floodplain. He tried to ignore the orange haze on the skyline, reflecting up to the low cloud. All those resources used for little more than light pollution. He wondered briefly about reviving their unpopular campaign to have the village street lights turned off at midnight. So much had been smothered by other concerns recently.

  As a small boy he’d spent hours at bedtime gazing out of his window at a very different view of densely packed lines of orange lights winding across the hillside opposite. If he narrowed his eyes, the street lights became points of fire, merging to one huge conflagration. Whole streets, the whole district, in flames. He always wondered whether this was the one; maybe this time there was a fire and no one had noticed. He’d send himself to sleep devising strategies to escape from his room should the blaze spread to their street. After his mum married and his stepbrothers came along, he’d made the mistake of telling them. Their ridicule had driven any thoughts of rescue from his escape plans.

  Kip came rustling from the undergrowth and he reached down to feel the familiar fur beneath his hand. The clouds shifted constantly, occasional glimpses of moonlight highlighting the contours of the land.

  He still sometimes saw the orange glow pooling out of an underbelly of cloud as a warning of some apocalyptic disaster. But it wouldn’t begin with vast orange glows on the horizon. People were that little bit too clever, if not clever enough. They’d always stem the immediate tide without seeing the bigger picture. Each attempt to staunch the haemorrhage was only delaying it, burying it, sweeping it from view. Things would start to fail, like a system’s components, to be replaced individually at first until it became so much that a new system was needed. But you couldn’t build a new Earth.

  Despite his anger and helplessness, he derived a perverse comfort from the inevitability that the Earth would continue in some form regardless of what mankind threw at her, and unless people changed their ways – and soon – would become hostile to humans in the same way as a body rid itself of disease. It was all so much bigger than him; his immediate problems hardly seemed to matter in the face of such huge forces.

  He called Kip and walked on.

  ‘I’m sorry about the timing.’ Fran leaned forward and raked the dying embers. ‘I know kids are a touchy subject between you two.’

  Elin sighed, gazing across the fire towards the path down which Jeff had vanished, yawning, a few moments ago. ‘All the more reason to share your excitement.’

  ‘But is that why…?’ Fran waved up the rise.

  ‘I doubt it. He was feeling stressed after this afternoon’s encounter.’

  She looked away from the fire and watched the stars become ever more dense between the ribbons of cloud as her eyes readjusted to the dark.

  ‘I hope we haven’t overstayed our welcome.’

  ‘Now you really are talking daft.’

  ‘You’d said things were finally settling down between you, and it was certainly looking that way. Now he’s gone stomping off.’

  Elin shrugged. She understood the need to be alone.

  ‘You’ve got the patience of a saint.’

  Fran seemed to think of their marriage as a perpetual struggle; she’d advised Elin against getting involved with Bede right from the start. But as the years went by and he gained confidence, Fran had begun to admit she’d been wrong: Bede hadn’t been aloof or boorish, but merely shy. Yet although she’d come to appreciate his and Elin’s love for one another, it didn’t stop her referring to him as a moody and difficult man who needed dealing with. Elin and Bede, on the other hand, considered themselves a perfect team – her creativity and home-making provided the heart, while his technical know-how made it possible. It was a crude generalisation; they were each capable of both passion and practicality. But neither would function so well without the other. As proved by nearly fifteen years of marriage. Of course, Elin knew that Fran, her own family and others were only supporting her, seeing things from what they believed to be her perspective. Who did Bede have to take his side, to confide in occasionally? Joe, and Joe was gone. No wonder the last year and a half had been so difficult for them both. She understood, but was relieved that his time for grieving seemed to have passed.

  7th April 1999

  Today I finally got my chance to give Robert Markham a piece of my mind.

  I found out recently that our Bede’s been getting bullied, mainly by his step-brother, the older one, Gavin. He only told me because last time we met, he’d obviously been scrapping and I asked him what happened. He just shrugged it off like it was a fact of life (it is, it seems), or like he’s bloody Jesus or something. He told me he can look after himself and not to worry. But I do. That bloody coward’s three years older than him for a start – should pick on someone his own size. I’ve been dying to go round and teach the bastard a lesson – both of them, seeing as the younger one doesn’t sound much better. If not them, the stepfather, who it seems is only too happy to turn a blind eye.

  But I dare say our Bede would be mortified. (Funny the way I can’t help calling him ‘our Bede’ .) Seems it’s not usually physical, more a case of nicking pocket money, pranks, destroying homework, endless drip drip drip. Of course he doesn’t help by insisting on long hair, the way he dresses, pushing the bounds of what’s allowed by school uniform.

  I tried to find a way to tread carefully and asked why didn’t he just get his hair cut for an easier life? And he tells me to shut up, his mum never used to nag him about it. He suddenly gives me this look, confiding like, and said he wondered if maybe she’d let him get away with it because his dad had hair like that and it was some kind of remembrance? I was floored, first time he’d asked me about his dad, and I struggled for a moment to remember what the guy looked like. Where on earth did he come up with a notion like that?

  Well, to Robert Markham.

  It was a presentation evening at our Bede’s school, for the Design & Tech pupils who’d entered some local industry-sponsored invention competition. He’d put together a solar-powered electric bike contraption – panels all over the panniers, a complicated gizmo to switch in when an energy boost’s needed. More clever than effective and hardly practical or stylish – let’s just say I doubt he’s going to become one of these teenage millionaires on the back of it. But what do I know? I was well impressed by his research and ability to put it all into practice.

  Anyway, I walked in and saw him standing behind his table, looking generally chuffed but with a big dose of his characteristic awkwardness, and a woman with a name badge who looked like his teacher was there chatting away to a fella about my age, one of the judges I assumed.

  Bede mumbles an introduction – his teacher, Mrs Harris I think it was. I shook her hand and said something about how proud I was of our Bede and he told her I’ve been such a help to him. At this the other fella turns his plastic smile to me and tells me he’s Robert Markham, Bede’s dad.

  ‘Good to meet you at last,’ he says. At last!! As if I should’ve asked his permission to get involved in my nephew’s life! Bede’s out of Markham’s line of sight and he mouths STEPdad at me, but I ignored him and quickly said something like, you must be proud too, and shook his hand. As Markham blathered something about giving him every encouragement with this project, I remembered what our Bede had told me about Gavin breaking some intricate component that took ages to repair, and then ‘losing’ the folder all his early designs were in so he was up all night writing the portfolio out again to hand it in. His stepdad hadn’t believed him, of course. Not even when Bede found the original folder – badly disguised, contents gone forever – in Gavin and Sam’s room. He just got told off for snooping through his brothers’ things.

  We enjoyed the prizegiving. Our Bede won the under 16s, so he got tied up talking to the local paper, and there was my chance. Over a coffee that ta
sted like cat’s pee, I got Robert Markham on his own and asked straight out if he was aware of all the grief his sons, Gavin in particular, were causing Bede. He just looks at me with this disbelieving face on and says, ‘I might have known.’

  I said he could hardly blame the lad for telling me.

  ‘Telling you what?’ His voice was raised, making me glance round. ‘How much I’ve gone out my way to treat him as my own son? Kids, boys in particular, are always arguing and I’ve taken Bede’s side more than I should. But he rejected us from the start.’ I think I was shaking my head in disbelief. ‘And he’s getting worse,’ the hard-nosed bastard goes on.

  ‘Give him a break. Lad’s not long since lost his mother.’

  ‘My boys lost their mother, too, but when I married Lydia they didn’t go round looking for someone to blame. They came to love her as much as their own mum, and they’d have loved Bede as a brother if he’d have let them. He’s made a career of tale-telling, setting things up, lying to get them into trouble.’

  I made it clear that’s not what I’d heard.

  ‘You’ve got his word for it,’ he says. ‘I’m giving you mine.’

  He suddenly shut up. I glanced to the side and saw our Bede standing there. For how long? I made some comment about the newspaper interview and rambled on about getting a copy. He nodded to me, then turned to Markham.

  ‘Trying to take Joe away from me too, are you?’

  ‘Don’t be daft.’ Markham does a kind of half-laugh like it’s all a big mountain out of a molehill. He points at me and gives it, ‘He was the one started shit-stirring.’

  Whatever the rights and wrongs, did he look the tiniest bit embarrassed? Did he make any attempt to explain to the lad, or reassure him, claim that he’d misheard?

  No. ‘He started it.’ For fuck’s sake.

  Markham turned to me, still with that jovial just-family-banter-we-don’t-really-mean-it air. ‘I don’t know about Design & Tech, he should be up for the drama prize.’ He gives this award-winning melodramatic shrug of his own. ‘Know what I mean?’

  Our Bede’s sleeping at my flat, on the sofa, for tonight. To be honest, it feels good to have someone else in the bloody soulless place.

  Innocents

  Leaving the men to load the bags and a box or two of fresh produce into the car, Elin turned to Fran.

  ‘You won’t be travelling this light for a while once Junior arrives.’

  Fran smiled. ‘A price worth paying. But yeah, I’ve got plans to make the most of my freedom while it lasts.’

  ‘Going anywhere nice?’

  ‘Nothing that compares to here. Actually, I’m planning on spending more time with the protesters at the fracking site. You know, now they’re starting test drilling in Lancashire.’ She put a protective hand on her midriff and glanced over towards Jeff. ‘I guess it’ll mainly be monitoring and observing duties – I’m under strict instructions not to do anything physical or get arrested.’ She grinned conspiratorially. ‘We’ll see about that.’

  Elin thought of Holtwood with a heavy heart. ‘I can’t believe it’s actually happening. How can they be so stupid?’

  Fran waved vaguely upriver. ‘I really hope you manage to nip this one in the bud. In the meantime, why don’t you get some practice in? Come and join us. Different place, same fossil fuels.’

  Needled by guilt, Elin focused past her friend on the greenhouse. ‘I’ll see how things go. Busy time of year. Hopefully we can—’

  ‘Come on, Elin, it’s a decade and a half since Calsthorpe! There’s always an excuse. You haven’t done anything except a couple of demos since you two got married and holed up here.’

  ‘Haven’t done anything? Holed up? What do you think this is all about?’

  Fran nudged her playfully. ‘Only kidding. I know – living it rather than shouting about it. But there comes a time when you have to shout.’

  ‘You think I don’t know that? We’re doing a decent job of getting the village mobilised, aren’t we?’

  Her eyebrows raised, Fran looked over to where Bede and Jeff were peering beneath the raised bonnet of the car. ‘I must admit he’s improved, but he’s still making you a bit thin-skinned. You know I think the world of Alderleat. Just a bit of friendly banter. I mean it, though, Elin. I’d love it if you joined us for a few days, even if it’s just to back me up when I remind Jeff that pregnancy isn’t an illness, that a new life means we have to fight all the more for the future.’ As if he’d heard his name, Jeff lowered the bonnet and beckoned them over. ‘Uh-oh. Looks like it’s time to go.’

  Elin felt the lingering warmth of friendship as they stood in the gateway and watched the car disappear down the lane. The wind whipped clouds across the sky, trailed along the ground to ruffle grass and tickle willow leaves, and stirred up glistening wavelets on the surface of the river beyond. She waved, even though there was only Bede left to see her.

  ‘What was that about being in touch?’ he asked. ‘What are you two plotting?’

  ‘Plotting! Nothing sinister – joining forces between Frack-Free Foxover and the campaigns she’s involved with up north. Don’t look at me like that. Honestly, Bede – this is real. We’ve got to stop it, or at least do everything we can to try. And, you know, we might need their help one day. This isn’t going to go away by wishing.’

  ‘So we’ll pitch in if we’re needed,’ he said. ‘Yeah, ’course we will.’

  Don’t sound so enthusiastic, she thought, putting the subject aside to work on again later. ‘So, are you going to help me plant out those seedlings?’

  ‘There’s plenty I want to see to in the workshop, but if you need me—’

  ‘I do. Though I guess we can allow ourselves a cuppa first.’

  After putting the kettle on, Bede moved his phone back to its usual charging spot on the windowsill by the kitchen table, which had been taken over by Jeff’s tablet for the duration of their stay. Elin fondly imagined his relief. He’d barely concealed his irritation at the request for a socket where the wifi was strongest, not only because it meant Jeff would spend ages absorbed in some virtual world or obsessing about work e-mails, but because it disrupted Bede’s desire to have everything in its proper place. He’d even complained the other day about the key to the workshop being on the wrong hook.

  She looked from the flowers on the table by the window – for once put there by Bede, in honour of her birthday – to her cards arranged on the dresser. She’d have to get a frame for the wonderful painting by one of the old Calsthorpe crowd that Fran had tracked down. There was a Pen-blwydd Hapus from her mum and dad and a jokey one from her sister Carys and husband Andy in Canada, brimming inside with kisses from her little nephew and niece. Elin wondered when she’d see them again. Coming with Bede to Alderleat when they married meant she hadn’t achieved her ambition of returning to live in Wales, though they were only a few miles short of the border and at least she was a lot closer than her sister was. Despite the distances separating the small Jones clan, she was glad of her family’s normality compared to Bede’s.

  He turned as he waited for the rumbling kettle to come to the boil. ‘Penny for them.’

  She smiled. ‘Just admiring my cards and flowers.’

  The kettle rattled to its climax and he poured, then came to the table with the teapot and mugs.

  ‘What about their news, then?’ he said as he sat down. ‘Fran expecting. Who’d have thought it?’

  She fought a sudden lump in her throat. She’d woken in the night and lain there unable to sleep. Despite her protestations to Fran, the effect of their friends’ news combined with the intangible ticking clock of her birthday had surprised her with its intensity.

  ‘Great, isn’t it?’ she managed.

  He beamed at her. Not the reaction she’d expected. She felt a small bubble of hope.

  ‘Imagine us,’ he said, ‘aunty and uncle with our own ready-made borrowed sprog whenever they need a bit of breathing space. As he-or-she grows we can teach him
-or-her what a proper way of life is and get some help around the place into the bargain.’

  ‘It’ll be lovely,’ she said. ‘But…’ she ignored his warning look, ‘doesn’t it make you want more than borrowed?’

  With an almost imperceptible shake of his head, he turned to the window. Knowing her bubble was about to burst, Elin waited for his response: you knew how I felt when we got married. I haven’t changed.

  ‘I wish I felt differently,’ he said eventually. ‘I hate to think I’m making you unhappy. But I can’t imagine…’

  They’d been through it all before. The way the overpopulated world was going, he couldn’t face bringing an innocent child into it, any more than he could bring himself to exacerbate the problem by adding to the numbers. She’d shared his point of view until recently, but was beginning to find that emotion, instinct and biology were stronger than intellect or ideology, and that she hated hearing him talk like this.

  ‘It’s as if you’ve abandoned all hope for the future.’ He remained silent as she fought down the threat of tears. ‘Do you really think the world’s population crisis, or even the country’s, is going to be solved by Elin and Bede Sherwell remaining childless?’

  ‘I’m not daft. But…’

  ‘But it’s a matter of principle.’ She picked up the teapot and poured. As she passed his mug to him she put it down a little too hard, causing hot tea to splash over and pool around the base. ‘Can’t you imagine passing your bloody principles on to a future generation? Who do you think’s going to save the world after you?’