Chapter 9

The train barrelled through an indistinct and speed-blurred countryside. The railroad car swayed drunkenly from side to side. The racket of the train was godawful tremendous. I slumped in the last seat of the last carriage, alone. The car hurtled into a long black tunnel and my ears popped excruciatingly. Suddenly, the carriage door behind me banged open. There was hoarse coughing and hesitant, heavy footsteps clumped up the aisle. My heart tried to crawl up into my throat. A flabby hand grabbed my arm and I heard frantic screams. I woke with a start.

'Wake up, Dick!' screamed Lizzie. 'Wake up, you bastard!' She hammered my arm with her fist. 'Wake up!'

'Huh? Huh?' I woofed, sitting up groggily in bed, 'What ... what the hell is it, Liz?' I could hardly hear her for the roaring and whistling of wind through the room. Dawn was coming up and there was just enough light to see dark outlines.

'Oh, my God, Dick!' she shrieked. 'I think the bloody roof's gone!' Her hand went to her cheek and her mouth dropped open. She sort of jumped up and down, hysterically, on the spot.

* * *
Yes, you did too, Lizzie. Up and down, up and down. I know you were worried about the kids. So was I. It's not that I don't care, you've simply got to keep your rag in an emergency - you can fall apart afterwards.

* * *

'The kids, Dick!' she screamed. 'Oh dear Christ, Dick! Get the kids! Right now, Dick! Get them, get them, get them!'

At that moment, the kids piled into the room, shouting and bawling. 'Mom! Dad! What's happened?' They jumped into our bed.

Lizzie threw her arms around them and pulled the covers around them. 'It's all right darlings,' she cooed in their ears. 'It's all right. Something's just come off the roof, babies, that's all.' She glared at me and cried frantically. 'Well, don't just lie there, Dick. Do something! Do something!'

'Oh, bloody hell,' I murmured through clenched teeth. I suppose you wanted me to put the roof back on right then and there. Superman to the rescue, ta-dah!

* * *

Most unreasonable, honestly, Lizzie. Yes, you were. That's exactly how it was.

* * *

I groped around for the bedside light switch. The light was dead. Power must be cut, I thought. I jumped out of bed, bollocks bouncing, and slipped quickly into my shirt and trousers. I threw my robe on top of them. Best argument I ever heard for wearing some clothes in bed and I've certainly done so ever since. I stuffed my bare feet into my shoes.

I rummaged through a drawer for my little torch and turned it on. I pointed it at the corner of the room. A heavy wooden beam poked through the plaster and lath ceiling. Wind whistled and roared through the jagged hole around the beam. A steady trickle of rubble dribbled into the room. 'Oh shit,' I whispered. 'Lizzie, look!', I shouted. I shone the torch on the beam. 'Under the bed! Quick! I shouted. 'The ceiling could go any second!' She pulled the sheet around herself and rolled off the bed. She had to kick the junk out from under it to make room.

I pulled Bobby from the bed and pushed him wiggling under it while Lizzie pulled him. 'Dad,' he shouted, giggling. 'What are you doing?' He tried to get up. I slapped his face, hard, and pushed him back.

'Stay there!' I bellowed. I pulled the gently blubbering Cathy out of the bed and shoved her under it, too. First time I'd seen her without a sneer on her face for years, poor little lamb. I bent down and shone the torch at their white, frightened faces. 'I'm going to check what else has happened!' I shouted. 'You guys stay put under here unless absolutely necessary. Got that?' They nodded solemnly at me.

I shuffled carefully though the dark upstairs, playing the torch on the walls and ceilings. The house literally quivered with each buffeting of the wind. I heard more bits and pieces give way in the attic and splatter on the ceilings. The wind blew harder and harder until I was sure it just couldn't blow any harder. I thought the house would be blown inside out. I knew how the little pigs felt now. I flattened myself against the staircase wall until the clattering stopped. Then I continued my check through the upstairs. Fortunately, none of the other rooms appeared to be damaged.

I shuffled back to the bedroom. 'OK, you lot,' I shouted. 'Get up quick and get to Kathy's room. There's no damage there and it's away from the side the wind's hitting.' They crawled cautiously to their feet. 'Come on, come on!' I shouted. 'Hop it!' I filled my arms with blankets and followed them into Cathy's room. 'Listen, I think you'd better get under the bed again for now,' I told them. I rolled the blankets out for them. Cathy didn't need to be told twice to get under the bed.

'Aw, Dad,' complained Bobby. 'This is baby stuff. MegaRobot doesn't hide under beds, ever.'

Lizzie snapped at him, 'Do what your father says, Robert!'

'All right, all right,' he muttered and slipped under the bed.

I gave Lizzie a little kiss and squeeze. 'I'm just going downstairs now to turn off the electricity, lovey. There could be some exposed wires in the attic. I'll be back in a few minutes,' I said.

'Oh, for God's sake, Dick, be careful,' she said urgently.

'Don't worry, love,' I replied, 'I'll be all right.' I padded carefully down the dark stairs. It sounded as if the wind had calmed down slightly. At least there was no more crashing from the attic. I felt my way into the utility room and threw the main circuit breakers. The wind was definitely calming down now. It probably was only hitting fifty or sixty miles per hour. I pulled the utility door open and peeped out cautiously. There were only a few tiles fallen into that side of the yard.

I stepped out and moved quickly away from the house in case any more tiles decided to fall off on that side, the wind snapping my robe viciously. Curiously enough, the sky was cloudless. There was a lot of dust in the air, though. Sunrise is red, the sailors are dead, I thought. A couple of the big old pines were down in the north field. They'd fallen away from the garage, fortunately. I crabbed down the drive with the warm dry wind almost knocking me over. I turned and looked back at the house. One of the chimneys was completely gone and two others were half down. About a quarter of the roof had peeled away, exposing the dark wooden ribs of the house. It was going to be a tiresome couple of weeks for us, I thought, but very happy ones for the builders. I could hear them sucking their teeth already.

* * *

Big deal, huh? But that was just the start of the real storms. Pretty frightening, though, that first time. We got very well used to sleeping under beds before too long, I can tell you. And then in the cellar when it got worse. Fortunately, it was a pretty sturdy old house, although it couldn't last forever under these conditions, of course. Its cellar was its real prize, in the end. You didn't often see cellars like that in Britain, either. It was a real honey: four big rooms and a bunch of little ones. Maybe the people who built the house were paranoid, too. Lizzie says the poor servants used to have to live down here. Lucky them, I say. Lizzie says they weren't lucky. It would've been damp down here then. They'd have all had TB and arthritis. Not damp now, I reply, worse luck.

In fact, we're not really undergrounders at all. We're not bunkerers, either. We're kind of in-betweeners. The cellar was dug deep into the side of the hill, with one side opening to the garden. Fortunately, this side's oblique to the wind. I still had to make a kind of a stone and dirt blast wall in front of that exposed wall. I reinforced the cellar roof with beams and rubble from the house, bricked up the windows, put on the strongest door I could find and Bob's your uncle, Fanny's your aunt. "House Beautiful", laughs Lizzie. Too right, my love, I reply. You ought to see the crappy dirt and stone warrens in which those less fortunate than we live. We've got plumbing, walls, floors, furniture and everything here. It's practically a palace. Plumbing's not a great deal of use, though, of course.

* * *

'Oh, thank God, you're back, Dick,' whispered Lizzie loudly. 'Those blasted builders are making the most appalling mess you can imagine up there.'

I rolled my eyes towards the roof. 'As the sparks fly upward, builders make messes,' I said wearily.

'Dick,' scolded Lizzie, 'Those stupid little men have been rambling around up there for three weeks. All they seem to do is slurp down endless cups of tea, three sugars. "Brewing up, love?"', she mocked. She stamped her foot with anger. 'They're tracking dust storms absolutely all over the place and knocking over everything in their path that isn't screwed down. It's simply frightful. I'm fed up with them. I want you to go up and tell them to be a bit more careful, Dick.'

'Oh, er, that'd likely be more trouble than it's worth, missus,' I rumbled in imitation of their boss. 'This here's real craftsman's work like, do you see missus? Not that cheap factory stuff.' I waved my hands spastically, smiled like a jackass and nodded my head jerkily. 'Now to tell you the truth, we're under very difficult conditions we are up here like, missus. We've been just that rushed off our feet. Now you can't expect these lads here, and very good lads they are too, missus, to do a good job like and to be clean, as well. Do you see that, missus? It's just not reasonable like. Anyway, missus, I think we've just about found your problem.'

'Oh, bloody hell, Dick!' she snapped angrily. 'Cut the jokes. Do something! Now!'

'Now calm down, love,' I said. 'I'll clean up after them when they've gone tonight. We really do need to get that roof patched up before the wind starts up again and takes it all off. We're lucky to have even got them up here at all and they're only charging us half the earth.'

'And where the devil did you slope off to, anyway?' scolded Lizzie. 'It's just like you to disappear when I need you most.'

'Now that's not really very fair, Lizzie,' I protested. 'I've been down to the cash and carry.'

'Oh for God's sake, Dick,' she cried, 'You're always thinking of your bloody stomach!' Well, there's a certain amount of truth in that statement, I'll have to admit it. Did I ever tell you about the time I ate eight bread and butter puddings in one sitting? Or the breakfast buffet where I ate seventeen Danish pastries? Lizzie says she doesn't want to hear those stupid old stories again. And anyway you spent the rest of the day on the bog, both times, too. Sorry, Lizzie. Maybe some other time, dear reader.

'Yeah,' I replied brightly. 'I bought a dozen gross of tinned baked beans. Great, huh? I got inside by flashing the University letterhead at the manager. I spun him a yarn that Geology was a new department of Student Union Catering.'

'You what and how many?' she asked incredulously.

'I just bought one thousand seven hundred and twenty-eight tins of Heinz baked beans,' I replied proudly. 'Fifteen and a half ounce size. It only came to,' I checked the receipt, '£345.60,' I said. 'You should see the Land Rover. It's fairly staggering from the weight.

'Richard, I'm fairly staggering from your stupidity,' gasped Lizzie. 'Have you gone entirely out of your teeny-tiny mind at last, you ass? What the hell do you think you're going to do with over a ton of bloody baked beans, you silly fool? Fart yourself to death?'

'Oh, I'll just pop them away in the barn, pet, in case we need them some time,' I replied cheerfully. 'They won't get in the way out there. Never know when those old supply ships may give us a miss. We could live for years on those beans. I mean, if we don't need them, we can always give them to the kids as wedding presents.'

Wedding presents, hell. I bet you could buy every farmer's wife in the valley, with their oldest daughters thrown in to boot, for a case of those beans. What Lizzie didn't know at the time was that I'd got another couple of load of beans ordered up, too, plus about three tons of other iron rations. So I popped a couple of thousand quid on grub. Once the end set in, of course, you couldn't pick up that kind of stuff for love nor money nor a serious house in Chelsea. You'll have to admit it was a pretty sound stroke. Yes, Lizzie, I know that I forgot the loo paper. Nobody can remember everything all the time. So we have to wipe our bums with sand? I don't really think I could bring myself to use that lovely paper now, anyway. Could you?