Almost Eden, page 30
‘If you were a key witness, then such a meeting would discredit you.’
‘I’m not key to this, I didn’t see Mason killed.’
‘But maybe you saw something else, or heard something else, and Coltrane thinks it’s worth his career to discredit you. Be easier to shoot you.’
‘Thanks for that.’
‘Jesus, what is Coltrane thinking of?’
‘Should I cancel the meeting?’
‘Hell no.’
‘But after the meeting, I could not be called as a witness,’ I pointed out.
‘This call is being recorded and logged, you’re working for me, so yes … you can. Might seem a little odd, but … you’re going ahead with the meeting on my explicit request.’
‘Well, if you’re sure. What about Callum?’
‘If he knew, he’d arrest Coltrane for conspiracy – and maybe you with it.’
‘Should I get myself a local solicitor?’ I toyed.
Allison laughed. ‘You’ve used up two already. Do the meeting, please, and call me after.’
This was all getting a bit crazy, but the day was not over yet. Ben stepped out to me.
‘Dad, I just had a friend on. Government let slip that they’re changing the rules, and if a bank goes bust people will only get the first fifteen thousand covered. Private pensions are not covered at all. Dad, people are drawing money from their accounts – it’s all over the news.’
I studied my son and thought of his future, angry at the world in general now, and at my own government in particular. I led him towards the beach. ‘Ben, I … have friends in the city and … this is just the start. Why do you think I’ve been stockpiling.’
Ben displayed his fear through his eyes, as he had done as a boy. ‘What do they say will happen?’
We ambled along.
‘There could be a run on the banks. The banks are short of capital, they never really recovered after the 2007 crisis, and the stock markets are down, so they can’t sell shares – or issue shares. If people draw money it will put pressure on the banks unnecessarily, and they could go bust simply because people are behaving like cattle.’
‘They’ll empty the shops.’
I nodded as we walked. ‘I know, and people here … they never experienced what my grandmother’s generation suffered with during the war - no carrot cake and ration books! When things are short, people will fight each other for them. The mob will take to the streets and raid the shops, so the shops will close up, and … then panic and shortages will widen.’
‘Got a few wind turbines to sell then,’ Ben noted.
‘Might need to trade them … for food or fuel; cash might be useless for a while.’
‘Bloody hell, Dad. How … how long do you think it could last?’
‘It could be a short sharp shock, or … well, it could get bad. Depends on whether people panic, because a few people panicking causes more people to panic.’ I stopped ‘Anyway, why don’t you get Robby to take you shopping, but local. There’s an Aldi, and they’re cheap.’ We turned back towards the house. ‘And Ben, get anything cheap in a tin, or dried, salt or sugar, or dried in a packet.’
Ben collected Robby, and I gave him five hundred pounds in cash, and off they set, gate moved - and moved back afterwards. I walked back to the beach and stood staring at the moist mud as it glistened, my concerns being for Ben and Sophie, and their futures. They deserved a future, a good one.
I selected a number, and pressed the green button. ‘Malcom?’
‘Roger! My god, Roger, I saw you in the papers - and bloody hell. But well done on the treasure, mate.’
‘Yes, thanks, I’m … keenly spending it as we speak.’
‘You really retired down there?’
‘Yes, and my old firm sacked me. They thought I somehow knew about the silver -’
‘Did you?’
‘No,’ I said, trying not to get annoyed. ‘Anyway, listen: you’re expert on all things banking and the economy. Do you think things will get out of hand?’
‘Roger, we sold our house, and you remember that farm in Normandy – well we’re off there this week, totally off-grid and growing our own like you.’
‘You’re … retiring, at fifty?’ I puzzled.
‘More like getting the hell out of London. My boss doesn’t know I’m going, and the office … lots of empty desks.’
‘Why?’ I asked as I made small patterns in the sand with my shoes.
‘Markets always lag, and this was on the cards last year. The stock markets have lost so much that next year will see a bitch of a recession, if not a full-on depression like the thirties. The banks were already hurting, but Greece, Portugal and Spain have only just kicked the banks in the balls. The liabilities are huge, and the banks can’t pay.’
‘The banks could really seize up?’
‘There’s secret legislation being rushed through, and when the media get hold of it … well, people will draw their savings, and that’ll cause a run – like with Northern Rock.’
‘Cattle mentality,’ I commented, noticing a man on his boat.
‘Yes. The banks could survive, the system will survive, but the panic will be the issue; a short term liquidity problem.’
‘You’ve really sold up, and you’re leaving?’
‘Damn right; I’m not queuing up at the supermarkets for my daily allowance. And I have some gold coins, just in case, and things to barter with.’
‘What the hell did we do … to come to this?’
‘Two things; greedy bankers, and the Euro. Our bankers used to be sombre old men who never took risks, but those days have gone. And the Euro, that allowed the Club Med countries to borrow whatever they wanted, no checks and balances as there was with their own weak currencies. Germans gave them all a blank cheque, figuring that the Greeks would behave like Germans.
‘Greeks have the highest tax avoidance rate in the world, they’re worse than Africa. But if you see your parents avoiding tax, you do as well, and it’s not seen as a crime. The average European pays thirty percent tax, but the average Greek pays less than five percent. No one is putting money in the pot, so the pot was filled up by the Germans and the French.’
‘And now they want their money back.’
‘Nothing in the damn pot, Roger. It’s not just empty, there are a few IOUs in there as well.’
I sighed. ‘Well, say hi to your wife for me.’
‘Make plans, Roger, just in case.’
‘Way ahead of you, Malcolm, way ahead of you. I have chickens, pigs, rabbits even, and I stockpiled wind turbines that I might sell them in a crisis.’
‘Bloody hell, Roger, I would never have seen you doing that. Say hi to Wendy for me.’
Wandering up the slope, I checked with Marcus and his progress, asking him to arrange more cement and gravel. He would talk with his man, and no doubt make a little something on the side. Back at the house, sat in the kitchen, I text’d my trusty solicitor, requesting that he bring my bags of cash in the morning, as well as Robby’s cash. He text’d back an “OK”.
Sat cradling a tea, the puppy running around, I had a feeling in my gut that would not go. I fought off crying, wondering why my body was trying so hard to cry. My head felt chilled, alternating to feeling flushed, and the tea now tasted odd.
I only had one reference point to compare this to, two if I was truthful to myself. When Sophie was a year old she had fallen ill, suspected Meningitis, and Wendy and I had stayed up all night at a dreary hospital in Exeter, pacing up and down in cold grey corridors. It was that feeling of hopelessness, that there was something terrible about to happen - and that I could not stop it. It was that feeling that had struck me when I thought my daughter might die.
Thankfully, I had been spared that pain, and I had been granted twenty years of her life, watching her grow … and teaching her to ride a bike. Now, now her life was not in danger, but her future career prospects seemed bleak, as they did for Ben.
The second time I had felt like this was back at the apartment in London, decree absolute in my hand. It had finally registered, and for a day I was sick. Fortunately, I got the letter on a Saturday, and when I woke on the Sunday I discovered that my anger helped to mask my sadness, and that convincing myself that I had been right – and that she had been wrong – somehow deflected some of the pain.
Inspecting the food in the cellar, I could see that I had enough to feed myself for years - and that was without harvesting crops or slaughtering animals for the pot.
Ben returned with enough preserved food to keep a hungry college student going for a lifetime, many large tins that had cost less than a pound. But, oddly enough, mixed in with the tins and packets were small hand rakes for the garden, gardening gloves, plastic bags, super glue, string, all sorts.
‘You … grabbed one of each item the shop had displayed?’ I asked Ben, holding a screwdriver set.
‘I grabbed anything I thought you might need.’
‘Well, good thinking on most of it, it’ll all find a use, it’ll not be wasted.’ I found light bulbs, low energy bulbs, domestic batteries in packets, soaps and shampoos, and I was pleased, very pleased – not least because I had overlooked some of these necessities.
Robby seemed concerned as he plonked down bags. ‘Happen you’s enough for ten people yer.’ He waited.
Ben was not in the cellar, and I took a moment. ‘Robby, there’s a chance … a chance that the banks might close down.’
‘If there ain’t no banks, what’ll folk do? Be cash, like before?’
‘Cash, yes, but … there may be big queues at the shops, and … people may only be allowed to buy so much food each day, or petrol.’
Robby tried to fire up his grey matter. ‘Like what old lady said about the war?’
‘Yes, just like that … only worse. Back then people behaved better towards each other.’
‘There’ll be trouble?’
I issued a reluctant and apologetic nod. ‘Yes, Robby, there’ll be trouble.’
‘We’re right good here though, we as crops and livestock.’
‘Yes, because I planned ahead, and … because I thought we might attract buyers for this old place if there were wind turbines visible here. I’ve been … kind of swept along, but we’ve landed in a good position.’
‘Won’t be first time I’ve fished for me supper.’
I stared past him at the rows of wind turbines. ‘And I can also fish for my supper, but -’ I made eye contact. ‘- I have a son and daughter, and I’d like to see them finish their studies and get a good job. I’d like … to see them have all the opportunities I had.’
‘Roof over yer head’s what matters,’ Robby said with a shrug as Ben returned, his hands full.
‘I thought I’d go back out,’ Ben suggested. He stood in front of me, and I wondered if he feared for me as I feared for him. We exchanged a silent message, father and son, our concern for each other a loud as a brass band – even though nothing was said.
‘If you have cash left, use it up yes, but … don’t let people see that you’re hoarding food.’
He nodded, and set out with Robby. I tried to call Sophie, but then remembered that she was abroad somewhere, or maybe back by now. I would ask Ben later. I considered calling Wendy to issue a warning, but her man was loaded; she would not struggle.
When Ben returned, later than I would have expected for a trip to Lidls, he told me – with a grin - to see what Robby had got. I circled around to the rear of the Land Rover and gave Robby and expectant look.
Robby lifted out a large box. ‘Cartridges.’ Opening it, he showed me what was labelled as two hundred shotgun cartridges. And they were not filled with salt!
‘Good thinking.’ I took a moment, not sure how many we needed. He had a thousand in total. ‘Expensive?’
Robby grinned and shook his head. ‘Old Mack sells ‘em for cash, they wuz right cheap.’ He straightened his giant frame. ‘I wants to buy summit for the place, with me money.’
‘The money from Plymouth should be here in the morning. What … what did you want to buy?’
‘I have’s an idea, surprise like.’
‘Well, if it’s your money you can do what you like with it.’
‘Summit for this place, for us like.’
‘Oh, well, that’s good of you.’
‘You feeds me, and you ain’t never ask for nowt. Ain’t right.’
‘Robby, you protect me at night. Let’s not keep a score card, eh.’
‘I’ll get some stuff today, summit after with me money.’
I sat to eat, wondering what Robby might buy, being nosily disturbed by a lorry trying to turn where my car was. Rushing out, I moved my car onto the coastal path to make room, Marcus stood waiting with his mate, and soon unloading bags of gravel and sand. The lorry was piled high, and it was – apparently – all for me, all three thousand pounds worth.
I simply nodded, no energy to argue, and fetched the cash; the materials would all be used at some point.
What would Wendy have said about all this? I was spending money like it flowed from the ground. But, I didn’t really think of it as my money. This house was Aunt Betty’s, I had not bought it, and the money had come from her silver. I was … I was doing up her house for her memory, and utilising the land properly, and that pleased me when I considered it. Her ghost was right here, directing the building work - and complaining loudly about the state of the floor in the kitchen.
Having unpacked the Land Rover and stacked up the goodies we sat down to eat, Marcus and his mate joining us. We did, apparently, have enough food in. I opened three tins of chicken curry into a large pot, rice boiling away next to it, the kitchen soon full of the kinds of smell that I was sure Aunt Betty had never encountered.
Plates cleaned, rice dished out, chicken curry poured, I sat and joined my hungry guests, but there was a sombre mood to the group today.
‘All OK?’ Marcus asked. He could pick up on the vibe.
‘Marcus,’ I sighed without lifting my head from my meal. ‘Are you good at taking advice?’
‘Sometimes,’ he said, taking in the faces.
‘Then use what little cash you have … to buy what you need in the way of tinned food that will last, just in case the banks have a problem.’
Ben hid his concern, and tucked in.
‘Banks?’ Marcus repeated with a frown. ‘I don’t have a bank account.’
‘Quite wise too,’ I quipped. I studied him for a moment. ‘There may be a big crash, like that of 1929, rationing of food, queues, not much petrol – and then limited by each vehicle.’
‘Won’t affect us much, we grow our own,’ he insisted.
‘But you also work for people like me, and local farmers, for cash, and you need to get about,’ I pointed out. ‘You might find that … it’s just you.’
‘We do buy shop food,’ he admitted. ‘Be a bit harder without it. So what’s happened?’
‘A mixture of greed and stupidity, coupled with reckless politicians behaving like politicians.’
‘Don’t affect us none,’ Marcus insisted. ‘We do our own thing.’
Ben lifted his head. ‘When people can’t buy things at the shops, they’ll wander down looking for crops.’
Robby lifted his head as I lowered mine; it was something I knew was a possibility. ‘Folk will want to have our stuff away?’ I nodded. ‘Won’t let ‘em.’
‘You going to stand guard day and night, and cover all of our crops and animal pens?’ I asked, holding my stare on him.
Robby lowered his head and tackled his food, but I could see that his grey matter had again been fired up.
Marcus said, issuing a dismissive shrug, ‘We’re a long way from anywhere.’
‘Probably be OK down here, yes,’ I suggested, Ben’s look suggesting that he knew I was concerned.
‘Happen I’ve idea,’ Robby announced, as if it was not something that happened very often, as well as something to be wondered over and marvelled at. He jabbed a dirty spoon towards Ben. ‘Lad is good with wires, and the windmill things – they shocks people good an all.’
Ben smiled. ‘An electrified fence.’
‘Why not? Robby argued.
‘Would be against the law,’ I pointed out, but it was not such a bad idea; I had already field-tested the effect myself. It wouldn’t kill anyone, but it would cause a hasty retreat - followed by a hasty change of clothes.
Turning the conversation towards crops and animals - rather than some possible crisis in the wider world, the mood lifted. Marcus knew of a farm where the bank had repossessed the land.
‘And…?’ I nudged.
‘Well, all sorts there,’ Marcus timidly explained.
‘And…?’ I pressed.
‘They won’t miss it.’
‘Anyone looking for a lost puppy?’ I asked Marcus directly. ‘Posters up about Kingsbridge?’
‘Haven’t heard of none,’ he said, lowering his head to tackle his curry and rice.
Marcus’s mate put in, ‘Field of crops going to waste.’
‘Really?’ I asked, suddenly interested. The theft of abandoned potatoes I would stoop to, large cows and combined harvesters did not interest me. ‘Well, if you acquired some suitable produce – produce that might last after drying – or could be re-seeded here, then I could see myself handing you some money.’
‘Bloody hell, Dad,’ Ben said, but did so with a cheeky grin.
‘If it’s going to waste…’ I said, my hands wide.
‘We’ll have a look later,’ Marcus offered. ‘There’re potatoes there, good’uns. And free range chickens.’
‘And how, exactly, would you catch the chickens?’ I teased. Marcus had not thought that one through, Ben laughing at him.
‘You’s take ‘em from coop in night,’ Robby said before shovelling another load into his mouth.
‘And how, exactly, would you know that?’ I teased.
‘I … had some away when I was a lad,’ Robby suggested, avoiding eye contact.
At 9pm, Marcus appeared in his Land Rover, and when he entered the kitchen he was filthy, covered in fine brown soil, leaves in his dreadlocks. Robby, Ben and myself followed Marcus back his jeep, Ben giggling as we anticipated just what we might find.
