Downtime - Marc Platt [5]
‘Ah,’ grunted the Brigadier. ‘All this way up and I’m back with the recruiting officer.’ Perhaps it was the drink, but he suddenly remembered that he had left the house this morning without saying goodbye to Fiona. And that meant the usual box-of-chocolates counter-offensive or no peace treaty again tonight.
Gilmore trickled another whisky into each of their glasses.
‘The plan is to set up a coordinated global taskforce to deal with anything unexplained or extraordinary. Areas no one else covers. That includes the scientific and, I suppose, the paranormal. And we’ll be engaging civilian specialists as advisers. Running it will be a hell of a commitment. So what do you think?’
The Brigadier studied a particularly bellicose general on the wall opposite. It reminded him of an aunt of Fiona’s. He thought about the duties that kept him away from home too much; of Fiona’s reproachful looks when he was off on manoeuvres while she had morning sickness. These days she could hardly walk and had constant backache. He wasn’t even sure if he could get time off for the birth. He heard a cough and felt Gilmore’s stare as the Air Vice-Marshal waited for an answer.
‘I’m not sure,’ he said.
‘Good Lord, man! Isn’t this just the sort of thing you were suggesting?’
‘I was thinking in terms of specially trained paratroops with specialized weaponry to deal with any invaders.’
Gilmore shook his head. ‘It won’t all be War of the Worlds.’
Lethbridge-Stewart downed the last of his whisky. It had sounded lame even as he said it. He knew he was searching for excuses. ‘Frankly, I’m not convinced that the armed forces are the right people to deal with what you have in mind.’
‘Well,’ snapped Gilmore, ‘perhaps you can tell me who is going to do it?’
1
Victoria’s Journey
Thalassa
Billows Drive
Thorpesea
Yorkshire
13th May 1984
Dear Victoria
Well, what a lot of news you have for us. Frank and I are so proud of you over the job. You see, all that work on the OU courses was worth it.
The British Museum must be a very exciting place to work. Thank you for the postcards. Are you allowed to handle the antiquities? There must be lots of famous archaeologists working there. Let us know if you meet anybody famous!
Perhaps one day you’ll go on expeditions too.
Frank says he wouldn’t recognize an
archaeologist if he dug one up in the garden!
Well done from both of us.
I’ve put in a couple of letters that have come for you. They look very important and official.
We’ve been having a bit of excitement too.
Frank’s been ‘headhunted) from the Gas Refinery to work on a scheme for restocking the North Sea with fish. All very hush, hush. But maybe he’ll bring home the occasional free mackerel. Between the two of you I need never be short offish or antiques again!
Your fiat looks lovely from the photos. How lucky you were to find it so easily. Mrs Sivinski (How do you spell it?) sounds rather eccentric (Frank says ‘batty), but I’m sure you’ll cope. As long as you can keep the cats out of your flat.
Did you really say thirteen of them? (Frank says ‘coven’!)
It seems very quiet up here without you, Victoria, dear. The garden is full of candytuft, but it’s very windswept as usual. The cliffwalk is all over with sea pinks. Can you believe they’ve cut the local bus service back again? Of course Frank won’t have a word said against Mrs Thatcher.
I think you were very brave to strike out on your own like that. Ever since you first came to stay with us, I always thought you were a bit of a loner, but I’m sure you’ll soon make lots of new friends.
Don’t forget us, will you? Your room’s always ready. Write soon and take care.
All our love
Maggie.
Victoria folded the dog-eared letter and slipped it back into her bag beside the two official envelopes – only one of them opened. It was four weeks since she had last