you see others ashore?’
‘A few. There’re a few people out there,’ replied Leona. She recalled those people on the motorway; a mute crowd of the hungry. Not menace in their eyes, just lingering hope that someone, somewhere, had an idea how to reboot this world.
‘If we start something ashore, we need to take our time about it, a phased migration. We prepare, plant, grow . . . those people still out there will come. They won’t take it from us, they’ll join us.’
The room was silent.
‘I think - no, I’m certain - we’re probably the largest group left in Britain still managing to make a go of it. Do you see? The community we build ashore, the way we set it up, the rules and values we agree on now, well, those things will set the tone for our future.’ She smiled. It was a hopeful smile, the ghost of which seemed to spread across the mess table to those standing in the room.
‘We’ll be deciding how the future is going to look . . . in a way.’
A soft breeze tickled through the portholes and filled the moment with a portentous whisper.
Jenny nodded. ‘The future.’ She pulled herself wearily out of her chair and met the eyes of those that had deserted her for Latoc as well as the few who had remained loyal. ‘So maybe then, heading ashore . . . this should be the first thing we vote on. What does everyone think?’
Heads nodded silently.
‘All right. This is how it is. We stay here and fight . . . let me see your hands for that.’
One or two at first, then others, encouraged by that, joined. Soon the room’s low ceiling was almost held aloft by a sea of hands. It appeared to be almost unanimous.
‘Afterwards, we make our plans to move back ashore. Hands for that?’
The last few unraised hands appeared.
Leona looked at her mother and thought she saw the clearly defined angle of her shoulders droop ever so slightly beneath her thin cardigan. She knew that gesture so well, she’d seen it so many times before back in the old days; after a long grocery shop when the plastic bags were off-loaded on the kitchen counter and she’d let out a sigh. It wasn’t the sagging shoulders of someone defeated, it was relief.
If that gesture of hers had words it would be this: Job’s done.
Chapter 81
10 years AC
‘LeMan 49/25a’ - ClarenCo Gas Rig Complex, North Sea
‘I missed up here,’ said Leona. They both listened to the rustle of leaves, soothing in the darkness. The moon peeped out at them, painting the helipad a perfect blue momentarily before hiding away again behind a relay race of scudding clouds, all racing each other to reach the distant shore first.
‘How did our old house look?’ asked Jenny.
‘Just as we left it, I suppose. We got weeds growing in the lounge. Oh, and the lawn needs mowing.’
Jenny laughed softly.
‘It’s not our home any more, Mum. It doesn’t feel like that any more. It’s just a place we used to live.’ She plucked at her lips thoughtfully. ‘I thought going back there, I was going home. I thought that’s where I wanted to be. With Hannah gone it seemed pointless struggling on. I just wanted to curl up in my bedroom and, you know . . . ?’
‘I know,’ she replied squeezing her daughter’s hand.
‘But it’s not our home any more.’ Just an empty house with broken windows and damp curls of wallpaper and leaves in the hallway.
‘Is . . . ?’
‘Is Dad still there?’
Jenny nodded.
‘Yes, he is.’
The night was warm, even with the breeze. The sea hissed and splashed nearly one hundred and eighty feet below, bumping gently against the platform legs like some giant turning over in its sleep.
‘Tell me, Lee, how did Jacob die?’
‘Defending me, Mum.’ She could have described her small stifling cell, the smell of shit, the sounds coming through the walls, the night after night of fighting off that scrawny bastard who wanted to tame her, to make her his plaything. All unnecessary details.
‘He was protecting me from another boy.’ She swallowed, pinching at her lips again. ‘He died just like Dad died.’
She felt her mother’s shoulders gently shaking. It might have been easier to change the subject, move on, but Mum needed to hear what she had to say.
‘I think, in some way . . . I think Jake was proud? I dunno, like he figured Dad was watching over us and giving