Chancery court is. And that bit sticking out there, that’s the House of Commons where all our good elected Members of Parliament sit and try to save the country.’ The ones that haven’t buggered off to form their own army, he added inside his head.
‘It isn’t! Where’s Big Ben? And … how come I can see it from here anyway?’
‘Wait,’ Harker said. ‘Are you asking me why something you don’t think you should be able to see isn’t there?’
‘Get lost,’ Eve snarled. Harker, unconcerned, lit another cigarette.
‘Where are we going, sir?’ Tallulah asked, surveying the squalid huts and temporary shelters on the south bank.
Up until recently, this had been the town of Southwark, with proper houses and shops and a rather lovely cathedral. Three years ago, the Coalitionists had made their biggest attempt at taking London, and Southwark had become the battleground. The suburbs and villages south of the river had been overcome by the rebels, burning buildings and shooting civilians, and the army had met them full on.
Harker’s fingers flexed, the back of his hand aching. The Battle of Southwark had taken the whole country by shock. Suddenly the war wasn’t just a few skirmishes happening miles away, it was a battle raging in the capital. It was the destruction of homes and the slaughter of innocents.
It was a watershed moment for the British Army, and for Harker. He’d taken command of C Company after Major Chesterton had lost half his head to a grenade supplied to the rebels by the French. He’d been awarded a promotion to Major. He’d listened to General Wheeler announcing that after the army’s narrow victory, losses were so great that Britain’s women were not just to volunteer for the front line, but be conscripted for it.
And he’d turned to Saskia, knowing what this meant for her family. All her brothers and sisters, bar one, had been taken by the war. Only Saskia, the oldest, and Tallulah, the youngest, remained. Sheltered by her parents, he had rarely seen her due to his military duties, although Saskia, of course, had kept in contact.
‘It won’t come to that,’ Harker said, trying to take Saskia in his arms. To comfort his wife. ‘The war’ll be over before Lu’s eighteen. She’ll be fine.’
He tried to smile, but Saskia just spat tearfully, ‘Don’t be a bloody fool, Harker. And how many times have I told you, stop manhandling me in public!’
She tore herself from him, and as he watched her stalk away across the wasteland south of the river, Harker realised he wouldn’t be married for much longer.
Now Southwark was a shanty town of buildings so flimsy a good storm would wash them away. No one bothered to build properly, since the army came around every few months to clear the place. The town was a barren sweep of fire-blackened trees and transient shelters. Here and there low walls surrounded large piles of earth. The graves of soldiers.
‘Well,’ Harker said, clearing his throat as the engine idled and Eve surveyed the desolation in shocked silence, ‘I do have one thing to confess.’
‘What?’ Eve said distantly.
He extracted from his jacket a very grubby, tattered bit of paper. ‘I have a map that’s about five years old. It has Mitcham on it. Couldn’t find your street, but I found the village.’
‘Mitcham’s not a village,’ Eve said, but she took the map, shaking her head as if it was all wrong. Eventually she said, ‘Well, okay then. Drive … um … this way.’
She handed the map to Tallulah, who took it gingerly as Eve asked, ‘Do I want to know what those stains are?’
‘Most likely blood,’ Harker said, and Tallulah hurriedly put the map on the dashboard as she set off again. ‘I was carrying that at the Battle of Southwark.’
‘The Battle of Southwark,’ Eve said, sarcasm heavy in her voice.
‘Yep.’ Harker stared at a tree stump. He remembered sheltering under its huge, high branches. ‘Lost a lot of good men
‘It isn’t! Where’s Big Ben? And … how come I can see it from here anyway?’
‘Wait,’ Harker said. ‘Are you asking me why something you don’t think you should be able to see isn’t there?’
‘Get lost,’ Eve snarled. Harker, unconcerned, lit another cigarette.
‘Where are we going, sir?’ Tallulah asked, surveying the squalid huts and temporary shelters on the south bank.
Up until recently, this had been the town of Southwark, with proper houses and shops and a rather lovely cathedral. Three years ago, the Coalitionists had made their biggest attempt at taking London, and Southwark had become the battleground. The suburbs and villages south of the river had been overcome by the rebels, burning buildings and shooting civilians, and the army had met them full on.
Harker’s fingers flexed, the back of his hand aching. The Battle of Southwark had taken the whole country by shock. Suddenly the war wasn’t just a few skirmishes happening miles away, it was a battle raging in the capital. It was the destruction of homes and the slaughter of innocents.
It was a watershed moment for the British Army, and for Harker. He’d taken command of C Company after Major Chesterton had lost half his head to a grenade supplied to the rebels by the French. He’d been awarded a promotion to Major. He’d listened to General Wheeler announcing that after the army’s narrow victory, losses were so great that Britain’s women were not just to volunteer for the front line, but be conscripted for it.
And he’d turned to Saskia, knowing what this meant for her family. All her brothers and sisters, bar one, had been taken by the war. Only Saskia, the oldest, and Tallulah, the youngest, remained. Sheltered by her parents, he had rarely seen her due to his military duties, although Saskia, of course, had kept in contact.
‘It won’t come to that,’ Harker said, trying to take Saskia in his arms. To comfort his wife. ‘The war’ll be over before Lu’s eighteen. She’ll be fine.’
He tried to smile, but Saskia just spat tearfully, ‘Don’t be a bloody fool, Harker. And how many times have I told you, stop manhandling me in public!’
She tore herself from him, and as he watched her stalk away across the wasteland south of the river, Harker realised he wouldn’t be married for much longer.
Now Southwark was a shanty town of buildings so flimsy a good storm would wash them away. No one bothered to build properly, since the army came around every few months to clear the place. The town was a barren sweep of fire-blackened trees and transient shelters. Here and there low walls surrounded large piles of earth. The graves of soldiers.
‘Well,’ Harker said, clearing his throat as the engine idled and Eve surveyed the desolation in shocked silence, ‘I do have one thing to confess.’
‘What?’ Eve said distantly.
He extracted from his jacket a very grubby, tattered bit of paper. ‘I have a map that’s about five years old. It has Mitcham on it. Couldn’t find your street, but I found the village.’
‘Mitcham’s not a village,’ Eve said, but she took the map, shaking her head as if it was all wrong. Eventually she said, ‘Well, okay then. Drive … um … this way.’
She handed the map to Tallulah, who took it gingerly as Eve asked, ‘Do I want to know what those stains are?’
‘Most likely blood,’ Harker said, and Tallulah hurriedly put the map on the dashboard as she set off again. ‘I was carrying that at the Battle of Southwark.’
‘The Battle of Southwark,’ Eve said, sarcasm heavy in her voice.
‘Yep.’ Harker stared at a tree stump. He remembered sheltering under its huge, high branches. ‘Lost a lot of good men
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