Lawrence ruminated on being taken for execution. Did he seriously see no better end for himself? He must have suffered a blip of courage. He was the guy who had fought his way out of the fens and survived the asylum margins to get this far. He could not just give up—he had to keep the great adventure going. Christmas was coming! All sorts of travelling troupes and circuses flowed the public drains at this time of year. They would need a guy like him who could use his fists and make weapons. There was always a new chapter for those with the guts to turn the page.
Steps approached. The cat dashed off with its prize. Into the warehouse strode Rosa. The swaying of her hips under the black dress stirred Lawrence’s loins. God how he wanted a woman.
“It’s all clear, the kids are off to school. They won’t be back until lunch, so we’ve plenty of time. I’ve spoken to everyone else. It’s best if you don’t say anything unless it’s just me or Bartram. That keeps things simple.” She looked closely at his face. “Some of those scratches need a bit of iodine.”
He followed her outside. While the north-facing yard was in the cool gloom of a November morning, the flying boat shone in the sun. He was amazed to see the machine was built of plates of metal rivetted together just like a ship. No wonder it sat deep in the water, rather than on it like a duck.
“That flying boat is made of metal?”
“Isn’t it extraordinary? I’ve never seen another like it.”
“How does it fly if it’s metal?”
“It’s aluminium. I’ve been inside it. The doors are light as paper.”
“It’s an heirloom?”
“Actually, it’s not. Every sheet of that was hand beaten and every rivet hand sealed. The owner is an old friend of the family going back to Bartram’s father’s day. The story I heard is that he helped Bartram’s father in some trouble with the ultras and they were partners after that. Now he’s practically a member of the family. Very rich I must say, at the same time right on our level, not stuck-up. He’s very clever. He can stand out here on a clear night and name every bright star and every constipation… Oops, I mean consolation. Oh, just ignore me. He’s a Party member too. For all his wealth, he’s got no more time for the sovereigns than we have.”
She leaned towards Lawrence and dropped her voice.
“Between you and me—strictly between you and me—he’s the reason Bartram and Skay had such a row. He proposed to her a couple of weeks ago and she turned him down flat. Bartram was livid. Any sensible girl would jump at a man like that. Her problem is she has to go her own way, she won’t accept she’s a woman.
“Last winter, she got a scholarship from the Krossingtons and away she went to Oban at the ends of the Earth, then she was back again four months later half starved… She wouldn’t play the game. Still, I do have to admire her guts. She went and got herself another scholarship from Bloomsbury College to study echo-nomics. That covers her college fees but nothing else. Bartram didn’t think she was paying her way—and then she turns down a proposal from a man who could have kept her like a sovereign lady…” Rosa sighed, probably not least in regret she had never received such an offer. “Come on, we can’t stand out here yattering all day.”
Lawrence enjoyed the luxury of disrobing the filthy Value System clothing to step into his first hot bath in months, enjoy the second shave of the day, and dress in fresh clothes. These were borrowed from one of Sarah-Kelly’s cousins absent on a trip up north. Lawrence descended to a late breakfast wearing brown plus fours, long white socks, a black corduroy shirt and a crottle pullover of dubious taste. Rosa served him bacon and egg sandwiches and a tankard of genuine tea, all the while continuing her saga of the Newmans:
“I do have some good news for you Lawrence and that is, so far as we can tell, Sarah-Kelly does not have another man. I don’t think she’s got time for romance any more. Something changed her up in Oban… I don’t mean you put her off men or anything!” She gave him a dig in the ribs. “Oh, just ignore me. Something changed her. Now she’s very outspoken and critical of the sovereigns. She’s read heaps of books from the library at Bloomsbury College. I do have to admit she’s become very knowledgeable, as if she’s up with the gulls looking down at our little lives amid the big wide world. I give you fair warning to be prepared for some berating. The glory trusts are another of her pet hates. Just before she walked out, she told us at dinner every glory officer above the rank of team lieutenant should be hanged for mass murder. So—” She broke off laughing. “If you were above team lieutenant, you better watch out!” Askance must have shown on Lawrence’s face. She laid a hand on his shoulder and said: “Oh, I don’t suppose she really meant it. The thing is, there’s extreme types at that college. They get together and build up this pressure inside and they come out with these awful things.”
Lawrence was finally outside the breakfast. As she cleared away the dishes, she said:
“If Sarah-Kelly comes back, you and her will want… You’ll get the best bed in the house is what I’m trying to say.” She laughed her way back to the sink by the iron range.
*
Bartram ushered Lawrence up to the top end of the ground floor where they took seats at a roll-top desk. It faced a barred
