He was single and the village gossips said he was gay. But that wasn’t a bad thing as he had no children to rear in a world short on living space. He carried on walking, contemplating life, and gave them a wave with the back of his hand without turning around, fully expecting to be drawing their attention.
‘You want to make hay whilst the sun shines,’ whispered May in Bastian’s ear, ‘with the prettiest girl in the village?’
Bastian needed no second invitation.
* * *
The golden light filtered through the rafters, and it was just as warm inside the barn as out. Bastian walked into a large cobweb and quickly brushed it from his hair. May led him by the hand and walked him to the ladders, one of the few pairs in the village.
‘Let’s go to the top,’ she said.
May removed her own clothes with Bastian looking flummoxed.
‘I suppose it’s a good thing, really,’ she said. ‘That you don’t have much experience with girls.’
She threw her clothes on top of the hay.
‘Well, do I have to show you everything?’ she asked.
* * *
Bastian was lying on his back next to May and they were both still naked.
‘Mum says we’ve got a bright future ahead of us,’ said May.
‘Has she been reading the tealeaves again?’ he asked.
‘Of course. What colour eyes do you think the children will have?’
‘Isn’t it a bit early to think about that?’
‘But Bastian, life is wonderful,’ she said, stroking his hair.
Suddenly, the barn door was pushed open and in wandered a gazelle.
‘Oh, Bastian,’ said May looking down, ‘isn’t it beautiful?’
The bugle horn shattered their tranquillity and May grabbed her clothes. Bastian quickly followed, pulling on his pants.
The dogs were getting closer, with horses chasing behind. The barn door flew open before a pack of baying hounds surrounded their quarry, teeth bared. May and Bastian watched through gaps in the floor as the squealing gazelle was ripped to pieces.
The lead huntsman, Nabulus, got out of his saddle and cut off the horns. His horse cantered out of the barn, its rider triumphant. Holroyd slung the carcass over his saddle for dinner.
Bastian and May edged around the pool of dark blood with embedded tufts of matted fur. Nature was beautiful but it was also cruel, and no animal was better than another.
After their frolic in the sun, they walked back through the old village along the row of redundant shops kept as monuments to folly. Behind the recently washed windows was a lesson and a warning. The objects, displays, and advertising cards inside were frequently changed by those who lived above, carefully chosen Party fanatics determined to show the citizen’s society before the STP.
‘Eight thousand pounds for a sideboard,’ said May.
‘Two million for a house!’ gasped Bastian. ‘And get this, would make an ideal holiday home or rental investment.’
‘I feel sick,’ said May.
‘Let’s go.’
They returned to the village just in time to catch June closing her caravan door. The one by the common that bartered fresh ice-cream made from her small herd of cows and chilled with blocks of ice produced from nocturnal cooling.
‘No charge,’ said May as Bastian fumbled in his pocket for the official Party IOU pad.
An IOU from the village policeman could be exchanged with anyone in the village for goods or services, although the latter was discouraged as no man or woman should be a serf to another. Nabulus had a book as did all Party officials.
The other trading systems amongst citizens included the oldest of all, sex, and the illegal exchange of weighed gold that could buy you hidden passage to Norway on the trade ships. But the nation’s gold reserves had been shipped to Canada with the Royal Family in the last days of democracy.
‘Are you sure?’ asked Bastian.
‘I might be your mother-in-law soon,’ replied June.
‘Mum, please. I’m not even pregnant yet,’ said May.
‘Then I hope you’ve been practising on a day like today. It’s what keeps the world turning you know, what’s left of it.’
Bastian went bright red and it wasn’t sunburn. His outdoor job kept him perfectly tanned.
‘Bastian, young man, why don’t you visit us for dinner this week?’ asked June.
‘I’d love to,’ he replied. ‘But not on Tuesday, I have a police training day.’
‘Then we’ll see you at six o’clock Thursday evening and don’t be late,’ said June. ‘Well, what’s keeping you? Give May a kiss and get going. I want to hear what you two have been up to.’
‘And shave off the beard,’ May shouted after him.
Chapter Thirteen
They stepped down from the cart, thirty miles from the village with its acres of apple trees and vineyards far in the distance. They stood ten feet from the first row of barbed wire fences, the back of their shirts covered in sweat with the day only just begun. They were grateful for the sea-breeze that cooled them down.
‘Don’t be nervous,’ said Bastian to Jambit, ‘just try and enjoy it.’
He paid their driver with a prewritten IOU from his shorts pocket and they were left with their wits and brawn to guide them. Bastian wrote his name in the sand with a stick.
‘Tradition,’ he said and Jambit followed his lead.
‘Where’s the gate?’ asked Jambit before biting his nails.
‘There isn’t one, our police training begins now. Follow me.’
Bastian walked to the edge of the cliff and peered over the edge. On the beach was an instructor in swimming trunks looking up at them.
‘You’ve got half an hour,’ he shouted through a megaphone.
‘The drop could kill us,’ said Jambit.
‘And so could they,’ said Bastian pointing behind them.
Two men were at their backs, smiling and holding loaded rifles. Known as blockers, they were ready to shoot anyone who about turned.
‘Armbands,’ demanded one and they instantly handed them over.
‘Don’t worry,’ said the other, ‘you’ll get them back at the end of the course. If you get that
