Chapter 2

Sharon was right about the other group. They arrived just after breakfast the following day – in time for their own breakfasts. Their meal times were immediately after ours and only an hour long, as Sharon discovered because her kitchen duties two days a week turned out to include serving their breakfasts.

They were mostly Swedish families, almost all of them young mothers with small children. There were scarcely any fathers, and there were quite a few young women of East Asian appearance who seemed to be au pairs.

I wonder how that particular cross-section of the population happened to end up in the shelter? Thursday afternoon: all the men at work. Where were all these families, that they managed to get on the coaches?

Maybe they were having a trip, and got diverted? Hundreds of them? Odd.

But it turned out that that was exactly what had happened. They’d been headed for a summer camp in Lapland.

It took us several days to find that out, and to learn that there had only been about seven hundred in the Swedish group, more than half of them small children. Mostly they had managed to find huts easily enough, but there had had to be some reshuffling to make room for the last few. Many of the parents and most of the au pairs spoke reasonably good English, and there appeared to be a policy on the part of the authorities to conduct everything in English.

Harry wasn’t in that group, either.

“He’ll be okay as long as he doesn’t hit anyone else.”

Did he hit someone else, and if so, what happened to him?

My timetable had two one hour slots per week for teaching. The first two slots we spent discussing who would teach what to whom, and I was detailed to help teach English to some of the bigger Swedish children, who had already started to study English in school. I was to assist Lisbet, the Danish wife of one of the Swedish soldiers, who had been a teacher before leaving to start a family. Her own two children were still tiny, but would be in one of the creches while she was working. We got on very well.

Lisbet’s English was excellent – with a fairly strong accent, but clear, accurate and with good use of idiom. She was an excellent teacher, too, and I learnt a lot about teaching from her.

Four of the people who’d been detailed to do teaching had to give up after just a few lessons. I never discovered whether this was because they themselves found they couldn’t cope, or because the more experienced teacher they were working with decided they were useless. My teaching load was doubled to four hours a week – but I didn’t get any time off anything else. I simply lost two hours a week of leisure time. But I wasn’t complaining: I was quite enjoying the teaching, and I was still only working nineteen hours a week altogether.

My additional hours weren’t with Lisbet. Lisbet obviously reckoned I was ready for a more independent teaching role. One of the other novice teachers had also had her teaching hours increased, and we were to work together with some of the younger children. Her name was Persie – Perseverance Nguyen, an engineering graduate from Vietnam, in Sweden as an au pair. Fluent in Vietnamese, French, English and now Swedish, absolutely lovely with the children, and with a smile to melt a heart of stone. What it could do to a heart of butter like mine was another matter. I was smitten, but kept my feelings to myself.

Sharon could tell something was amiss, though. Eventually she accosted me, ‘It’s that Chinese girl, isn’t it? You fancy her, don’t you?’

I couldn’t deny it, and didn’t try to. ‘She’s not Chinese, she’s Vietnamese. I’ve not touched her, and I don’t think she knows how I feel. I wouldn’t dream of saying a word.’

‘You should. I don’t want a man who fancies somebody else. Not somebody who’s actually around, at any rate. I can cope with you fancying a ghost.’

Cathie’s not a ghost. Or is she? All in all, the likelihood is she really is dead, and even if she isn’t, what are my chances of ever seeing her again? And if I do, what are the odds she’ll have found another boyfriend by now, thinking that I’m dead?

But I didn’t feel the same physical anguish that I’d felt before. I’m getting over her. Something to do with Persie?

But what about Sharon? “I don’t want a man who fancies somebody else.” What can one possibly say to that? Do I still fancy Sharon anyway? Or do I just feel committed to her?

I didn’t know.

Nearly every day, two parties of soldiers went out in the coaches, and came back a few hours later with loads of tinned or packaged food, or tools or building materials. Basically, raiding parties, but is it stealing when the former owners, and all their conceivable heirs in title, are dead? But are they? How many other shelters are there in this area? Surely at least some of the rest of the population is alive somewhere? Are the military simply commandeering everything from everybody regardless?

They decontaminated the outsides of the coaches, and there were a couple of sealable suits in each coach for soldiers to wear while checking places for contamination, that could be washed down when necessary using a portable decontamination set. All very professional-looking, but I was beginning to suspect that it was mostly just theatre. The portable radiation meters they had looked pretty perfunctory, and the idea of any biological or chemical monitoring was laughable.

Sometimes, when they’d found particularly useful but large building materials, they took a tractor from the farm, pulling a huge trailer. The trailer had a tarpaulin, which made it possible to wash the whole combination down in the decontamination unit slightly more effectively than would have been possible with an open trailer, but it still looked more theatrical than effective.

So what is the score? I wasn’t sure, but I suspected the senior officers were taking the view that a few extra cancers a few years down the line, or one or two soldiers dying mysteriously, wasn’t such a big deal, and that the risks weren’t really all that great. The raids were probably essential anyway.

A one-in-a-thousand risk to someone else’s life is a lot more tolerable than the same risk to your own, of course.

What were the risks to people who weren’t in shelters during the war, though? Were they really a thousand in a thousand? Or did they have a chance?

Probably depends where they were. Did the far north of Scandinavia escape unscathed, perhaps? If they did, what are people there doing now?

Sometimes one of my labouring jobs would be to help unload things – generally when it was building materials rather than comestibles.

One day one of the coaches arrived back with, amongst other things, several cases of various alcoholic drinks, chocolates, crisps, peanuts and the like. Party!

It wasn’t for everyone. I’m not sure exactly how they chose who to invite, but the general picture was fairly clear. Most of the au pairs were invited, as were most of the young mothers whose husbands were absent; but so were Will and Irene and various other couples, and even a few single men. Neither Sharon nor I were invited, nor Ellie. We didn’t know which soldiers were or weren’t invited, but it was basically organized by the soldiers.

A lot of those young mothers are probably recently widowed – and don’t know one way or the other. How many of their husbands made it into some other shelter? Maybe the camp they’re in isn’t even all that far away.

Persie was invited, but told me that she wasn’t going. ‘I know what that’s all about. I’m sure you do, too. I really, really am not interested. They can all get drunk and disgusting if they like, but they can do it without me.’

Ingrid, the lady she worked for, was going, so Persie had the excuse that she had to look after the children. She was still a little worried that some soldier or other would come round to seek her out. ‘Would you come and stay with me? I’d feel a bit safer if you were there.’

‘I’m no match for any of those soldiers. How about you bring the children round to our hut – then you’ll have Sharon and Ellie to look after you as well. And the children can have a real party.’

‘I don’t even know them. And I’m sure Sharon is jealous of me, anyway.’

I couldn’t escape that. ‘There’s no denying that. She knows I fancy you. You knew too, then.’

‘Of course I knew. How could I not? But you’re a perfect gentleman, and you never said a word before, so I never had to tell you. I think you’re a lovely man, Pete, but I’m afraid I really don’t fancy you. I’m sorry.’

She put her hand on my forearm and looked me straight in the eyes. I couldn’t help it: I couldn’t hold the tears back.

‘Should I ask them anyway? You really would be safer there than in your own hut.’

‘I’ve got a better idea. I’ll arrange with Ingrid to let me hold a children’s party in our hut. Then Sharon and Ellie and their children can come, and we can have a few more girls and kids round. We’ll stuff the little hut full. You can come to help, everyone knows you’re good with the little ones. I can even demand some of the crisps and peanuts and chocolate for the children’s party. They can’t refuse.’

‘That does sound like a better plan. The only trouble is that the adults’ party will go on long after the little ones have run out of steam. Everyone will want to take them home.’

‘True. That could be bad for quite a few of the girls. I know quite a few who’ve been invited who don’t want to go. I don’t fancy the idea of them making their way home in the middle of the other party.’

‘Perhaps we’d better be honest with the senior officers, tell them our worries, and ask for a secure place for mothers and children for the night.’

‘But they could be some of the worst offenders. In fact, I think they probably are.’

‘They’ve all got their wives here!’

‘You think that makes any difference?’

‘Ah. Maybe not.’

‘Why do you think there are a few young hunks invited?’

Ow. No doubt she’s right. Where does that leave us?

‘So what can we do? Like I said, I don’t think I’m any match for any of those soldiers.’

‘Maybe the best idea is to invite as many of the girls as can possibly sleep in one hut, and all stick together for the night.’

‘Especially the ones who’ve been invited and don’t want to go.’

‘Maybe. But Amazons like Ellie and Sharon would be useful, too. Most of the girls I know who don’t want to go aren’t much bigger than me.’

Amazons? They’re average size women.

Ah. Average size in England.

‘I hear your friend Will is quite a handy fighter.’

‘Yup, but he’s going to the party. I don’t think he wants to let Irene go without him, somehow. Not that he and I talk much these days. How did you know we were friends?’

‘Oh, the grapevine. You know Harry’s in solitary in the soldier’s accommodation block?’

‘I didn’t. I did wonder what had happened to him. Did he attack someone else, then?’

‘You didn’t hear? Oh, I suppose you wouldn’t have. Everyone wondered where he’d come from. Nobody told us anything, and he was being as nice as pie. Some of the girls saw he was all on his own, and spent time chatting with him. Gradually his version of the story came out, but a couple of blokes expressed doubts about it, saying it was obviously just one side of the story, and that since he was the one who’d been moved, it seemed likely to be a bit short of the whole truth.

‘Well, that got him annoyed, but he didn’t hit out. I think he realized that the chap who’d questioned his truthfulness might be another security guard, and might be more than capable of dealing with him. But later on, he tried to get frisky with my friend Merly, after they’d been chatting well into the evening. She screamed, and he whacked her in the face. The security guards – two of them – had heard Merly scream, and were there within moments of him hitting her. That’s when he got taken into the soldiers’ group.’

‘I wonder what they’re going to do with him in the end? It sounds as though there’s no future letting him out at all.’

‘Oh, I don’t know. Surely that fence is going to come down one day, and we’ll spread out into a wide empty world to make our own ways. This camp might not be big enough to lose him in, but the world surely is.’

‘Sounds a bit unfair to someone – or several someones – who do eventually come across him. Can you see him ever behaving himself?’

‘So what would you do with him? Leave him in solitary forever? Just get rid of him, kill him? There’s people on the loose around the place who’ve done much worse than he has. Well, maybe there aren’t any more, but there used to be. Where do you draw the line, though?’

‘Difficult. At least it’s not my problem!’

‘It might be better if it was. Do you trust the authorities we’ve got?’

‘It’s nearly time for my labouring stint. What’s next on your timetable?’

‘I’m free now. I’m going to see about organizing that girls’ sleepover. I think I will invite Sharon and Ellie. It might be easier if it comes straight from me, rather than from you. Sharon’ll still be jealous of me, but at least she won’t think I’m using you.’

‘Good luck. If I think of anything, I’ll pop round.’

‘I might not be in, of course. I don’t think you know my timetable, for one thing, and for another I’ll be doing organizing in my spare time. If I don’t see you before the party, thanks for your help, and see you next lesson.’

Persie’s sleepover was a complete success. Sharon and Ellie spent the night in Persie’s hut, and so did several other young women. Several young soldiers turned up during the evening to try to persuade Persie to come to the party, but by the time the women wanted to go to sleep, word had got round that they were being met by Ellie brandishing a dirty nappy.

At first Sharon wanted me to come too, but Ellie had a better suggestion: they could get more of the young women into Persie’s hut if as many children as could be persuaded stayed with me in our hut instead. I ran a children’s party. We had a high time, and then I put them all to bed all over the floor. A couple of them woke up crying for their mums in the middle of the night, but fortunately I was able to calm them down and they didn’t wake the whole party. I didn’t get a lot of sleep, but considered that a price well worth paying.

Persie and Sharon apparently had a good chat, too – albeit maybe not very privately! Sharon told Persie that she really ought to change her mind about me, but Persie wasn’t having it. ‘He’s your man, Sharon. Now I’ve told him I don’t fancy him, he’ll probably accept it. He’s pretty straightforward.’ It was Ellie who reported this conversation to me, but she complicated my thoughts by suggesting that maybe Persie was only saying she didn’t fancy me because she thought it was wrong to steal Sharon’s man. I wasn’t sure whether she realized what she’d done saying that. The possibility had occurred to me anyway, but hearing it from Ellie made it seem much more plausible.

Will wasn’t so happy. Irene went off with the one senior officer who had lost his wife. ‘I can’t compete with a senior army officer in a situation like this. Once I get over it, I know I’ll actually be better off without her. There must be some much nicer young ladies around if I only look.’

He’s got his head screwed on really.

The party precipitated several changes around the camp.

Ingrid took up with one of the soldiers, who soon moved in with her. Persie was a little scornful. ‘I don’t think she actually fancies him at all, but I think she reckons she’s got better prospects with him.’

Persie moved in with Merly and the family she worked for. ‘Ingrid wanted me to stay, but that chap gives me the creeps. I reckon he’d be all over me too if he got half a chance. The children will miss me, I know, but what can I do?’

Sharon asked me to leave. ‘Will’s on his own now. You could move in with him. I might do an Ingrid if I get the chance – she’s probably done the sensible thing really.’

She meant what she said about not wanting a man who fancied somebody else – or she wanted the best for me, and reckoned there was a better chance of me getting together with Persie this way.

Will was happy for me to share his hut. But Persie didn’t say anything, and neither did I.

I found I missed Donna and Billy and Tom as much as I missed Sharon. We still saw quite a bit of each other, but it wasn’t the same as sharing a hut.

Will and I didn’t talk very much. We shared our stock of observations and deductions about the situation, but exhausted the subject fairly quickly. Neither of us liked the situation, but couldn’t see anything we could do about it. We began to get on each other’s nerves, but neither of us had anywhere else to go for the time being.

We were increasingly convinced that all the decontamination theatre was just that: theatre. ‘The actors probably don’t realize it’s theatre, but the director, whoever and wherever he is, surely does.’

We thought about trying to escape and make ourselves independent lives. ‘Just you and me? How is that better than just being here? On our own? That’s probably even worse. Even if there really is no serious contamination anywhere, how would we survive?’

‘I don’t think survival would be much of a problem. There wouldn’t be much competition for resources, and there’s plenty of everything out there. The only reason they’re trying to get the farm going again is because they’re looking to the more distant future. For the number of people there are now, existing stocks of tinned and dried food would last for donkeys’ years, and there’ll be plenty of bottled water and gas cylinders and everything else you could want.’

‘Apart from fresh or frozen food, or electricity.’

‘Electricity if you want it, no problem. Find a generator, there’ll be plenty of fuel around.’

‘We’d be in competition with the soldiers out on their raids.’

‘Unlikely ever to cross each other’s paths. Anyway, they’re interested in big shops or warehouses. We’d be quite happy raiding corner shops or even private homes.’

‘Sounds a bit ghoulish.’

‘Sure. But it would be survival, and in some ways better than in here. Independent.’

‘Lonely.’

We discussed various possible methods of escape, but none of them sounded entirely credible, and anyway, did we really want to swap society, however uncongenial, for lonely independence?

Conversations with Persie and Merly were much less fatalistic. They were both getting increasingly worried about the behaviour of some of the soldiers. ‘There’s a lot more women than men in here, but I think some of those young soldiers think they’re entitled to harems.’ Persie and Merly decided that they really did want to escape.

One of my ideas was to stow away in the rear luggage compartment of one of the coaches. It wasn’t designed to be opened from inside, but I’d worked out how I could jam it shut without letting the bolts catch, and then push it open from inside. But we’d have to get out somewhere before the coach arrived wherever it was going, and there was no guarantee that the bus would be going slowly enough anywhere to get out safely, or we might misjudge how far they were going and still be in there when the coach stopped. The side compartments would be even worse: the soldiers might very well notice us getting out.

Will had circumnavigated the camp and inspected the fence all the way round. It was out of sight of the village – as we’d come to call the cluster of buildings at the centre of the camp, together with all the huts – for quite a stretch in the south, and for a hundred yards or so behind the hill in the north. In the south, the ground was hard all the way along, and the bottom of the fence ran right along it; but the boggy patch behind the hill ran under the fence just before the point where the fence became visible from the village. Will had investigated, and sank up to his knees in it close to the fence. ‘I reckon you could lie on your back floating in the bog, and scrabble your way under the fence. You’d get completely soaked and filthy, of course, and have to hold your nose for a short while actually under the fence, but it’s doable I reckon. If you could get hold of some of those plastic sacks they got something from the builders’ merchants in, you could take all your clothes and a towel through dry, then dry off and put on dry clothes.’ I told Persie and Merly about the idea, but they didn’t like it much.

‘I doubt if they’ve put landmines in the area outside the fence, but I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if they’ve got trip wires to alert the soldiers to any escape. They might even be conscious of the one place such an escape looks feasible.’

‘I doubt they think anyone will try it, but you’d certainly have to watch your step for a fair way outside the fence.’

Persie had another idea. We all knew that there was a big generator providing electricity in the farmhouse, and that they’d recently acquired a couple more generators and had wired the soldiers’ quarters and all the buildings except the huts for lighting.

‘Even if they manage to find enough generators to supply enough power for heating all the huts, it’ll be almost impossible to maintain a fuel supply for them all. I can see winter here being a really hard time. I’m fairly sure that we ought to be able to find a hydroelectric power station we can get going again somewhere within a reasonable distance. It only needs to be a small one. The grid already exists to connect it to the farm, but we’d have to cut off the rest of the grid to stop all the power draining away uselessly in all sorts of odd equipment all over the place. But it ought to be possible to identify the necessary connections and cut the rest off before restarting the system. They’d be doing it already if they knew how. I’m sure I could organize it, if I could get the officers to agree and supply the labour force for me. And even if I couldn’t, I could pretend to – which gives me an excuse to be out of the camp. If I give you a bit of coaching, we could pretend you were an engineer too, Pete, and that your presence on the team would be worthwhile. I reckon we could steal a vehicle while we were out of camp, and get a long way away long before they could walk back and raise the alarm.’

‘I can’t drive. I know in theory what to do, and I suppose with a bit of practice I could manage somehow – especially with no traffic to worry about, and not caring much about a bit of superficial damage to the vehicle or anything else – but making a rapid getaway sounds harder.’

‘You wouldn’t have to. I can drive. I’ve never driven a coach or a tractor, but I don’t suppose I’d find it hard. Especially, as you say, if it doesn’t matter if it gets a bit battered.’

A bold plan. It might even work.

But it was still just an idea, and we didn’t actually do anything about it.

If we don’t do something soon, it’ll be too late. No sense getting out after winter’s already begun.

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