Chapter 16 in the serialisation of the book 'Insurrection' 4th book in the 'Corpalism' series

16

A society grows great when old men plant trees
in whose shade they know they shall never sit.
Greek proverb quotes

Alb stuck his head out of the shed door, had a quick squint round the allotment, checking for interlopers, then pulled back his head and closed the door. This had been Jonesey's idea – in response to Alb's badgering it had to be said - a meeting of the Great and Good he’d called it although, to Alb's mind, membership of that exclusive-sounding club was a bit random. He didn’t much care – it was a chance to further expound his ideas and for that any audience was a good audience. Although he did appreciate the fact they’d kept it small – the shed was a decent size but not really suited for a big group sit-down.

He noticed that Johnno had made himself comfortable on the best seat in the house. Not that he begrudged him; he had a heart condition and was poorly with it. As for Bill and Ron, they'd contrived to sit as far apart as could be managed in a confined space; Bill perched on a distinctly ramshackle chair and Ron, more relaxed, sitting on one of the many wooden crates.

Annoyingly Val and Ken had turned up; he'd had more than enough of their comments. Even more annoyingly they'd entered together, giggling and Alb was irritated to see them now ensconced on a couple of plastic chairs in a cozy spot between a lawnmower that had seen better days and what Jonesey had informed them was a patio heater.

At least Mags had made herself scarce; he hadn't seen her since her strange behaviour that morning and was quite happy to keep it like that. Gerry had flung himself into an old deck chair; he’d regret that when he tried to get up again. Jonesey had opened up an old picnic table with a flourish and it was now decorated with several blank sheets of paper.

"Right, meeting called to order," said Alb, resisting the urge to fiddle with his braces. They were new and he’d thought them rather fetching until Gerry had teased him; now he wasn’t so sure.

"You in there?" Wilf opened the door with a bang and pushed his way in, struggling over a bag of potting compost, lowering himself down gingerly onto one of the other crates. Alb sighed, Wilf was a mate and a good one at that, but this was meant to be a small group.

"Shove over will ya, Ron," said Wilf irritably.

"I can't, I'm wedged in, there’s no room this way."

"Well, you shift over then, Johnno," said Wilf.

"Leave Johnno where he is, Wilf, anyway I need to squeeze in somewhere." Jonesey's whole demeanour shouted 'it's my shed and who invited you anyway?'
Wilf took an exaggerated lungful of air, "it's worse than the black hole of Calcutta in here."

"I agree," said a voice from the shadows, "it's really stuffy and close."

"Ken?" Wilf said, peering into the gloom, "Is that you?"

"I don't like it being so close, Alb, I really don't."

Alb bit back on a rude reply, just as Val spoke, "Don't you worry Ken, I'm here, I know first aid if it gets too much for you."

"I'll bet you do," muttered Gerry, under his breath.

"You there as well, Val?" Wilf nodded, see one, the other's not far behind, "How much room you got back there?"

"Cut it out all of you and shift round a bit," said Alb, "Ken, how much room have you got?"

"Well, not much Alb...."

"You got loads of room," said Gerry, from the relative comfort of his deckchair, "shift over."

Wilf narrowed his eyes, taking in Gerry's relaxed posture, calculating the amount of space that would be released if the deckchair went out the door. As if on a signal the door opened and Vera came in saying, "room for a little one?" followed by Mags, who wisely said nothing.

"I can move a bit," said Ken, shifting a millimetre or two before Alb leaned over and gave him a hard shove, almost knocking him off his chair.

They all spread round and breathed a collective sigh of relief. Bill made the mistake of standing to stretch his legs and the chair disappeared from behind him, Jonesey settling onto it quick as a flash, daring Bill to challenge his right.

"What was that?" squawked Val, pointing into a corner.

"What was what?" Ken's voice was only marginally lower.

"Down there," said a near hysterical Val, "I saw something move."

"Probably a rat," said Mags, mildly.

"Aaghh!" screeched Val and Vera in harmony.

"It wasn't a rat," stated Alb, trying to fix Mags with a
glare. She looked back coolly.

"I'm sure it was a rat," said Val, sniffling.

"It wasn't a rat," said Wilf, "the only things in here are spiders and crane flies and...."

"Oooh!" squealed Val, clearly not an insect lover.

"Val, there's nothing in here, okay," snapped Alb, giving Wilf his hardest stare.

"But there will be spiders," said Mags, unhelpfully, with a dark look at Alb, "this is a shed, after all, it's their home."

"That's enough," said Gerry, firmly, struggling to get out of the deck chair, unwilling to take any more nonsense, "no spiders and no rats in here, isn't that right, Wilf."

Wilf got the message and grunted some form of grudging agreement, wondering how quickly he could grab the deckchair and turf it out if Gerry ever actually got up and out of it.

"See, Val," said Alb, "there's nothing in here, just us, okay?"

"But I'm sure I saw something," she murmured pitifully.

"Probably just a shadow or something," said Alb, reaching over and patting her hand.

"Sure?" she said, appealing to him with water filled eyes.

"Of course, Val, dear," said Ken, getting in on the act, patting her other hand.

"Right then, shall we get on with it?" said Gerry, sighing deeply.

"Meeting is now called to order," said Alb.

"Anymore for anymore?" Nobby's voice sounded loudly from outside, just as Lenny's face appeared, flattened up against the grimy window as the door opened and Frank entered, saying airily, "We left Morty back at the ranch, too much excitement for one day."

Nobby and Lenny squeezed in after him leaving Gerry with no choice but to wriggle out of the deckchair, clatter it closed and, to Wilf's delight and Jonesey's dismay, toss it outside. Alb made an, 'is this your idea of a select group?' gesture at Jonesey who shrugged, disclaiming responsibility for the new arrivals.

"This isn't going to work, people," said Ken, the cozy corner now having become distinctly bijou, forcing Val and he to stand in seriously close, face to face proximity which ordinarily would have been fine but not quite the thing in public.

"Johnno, mate, are you ok?" Jonesey leaned towards him, talking across Ron, still resolutely squatting on his crate despite his view now comprising just legs and bottoms.

"I'm fine, don't worry about me, I'll say if I have a problem."

"What's this bloody meeting about, anyway?" demanded Wilf, "Corrie's on in a minute and I don't want to miss it."

"Bugger Corrie," hissed Alb, "this is important, Wilf."

"Nothing's more important than Corrie," stated Wilf, gravely.

"What about the country?"

"Sod the country, I'm almost in the grave, what do I care about the bloody country, it's for the young 'uns now, let them sort this bloody mess out."

"He's got a point, Alb," said Ken, "perhaps we are being a bit hasty."

"Good point, Ken," said Val.

"Crap point Ken," snapped Alb, "but what else can you expect of an Iti?"

"Yeah, Ken," said Jonesey, "why are you even here?" this despite the fact that Ken had been one of the few of those present he had actually invited.

"Leave him alone, both of you," said Val, "he has every right to be in here, like the rest of us."

"Only if he's part of the team," said Alb.

"What about Wilf?" Bill said, sticking his oar in, "he's only interested in Coronation St."

Typical nosey parker, thought Ron, giving him the evil eye, unnoticed, hidden as he was in the safety of his lowly position.

"Forget all that, we need to work out a plan of action." Alb's irritation was coming to the surface.

"I don't think we have a plan of action, Albert," stated Val. He could just make out her eyes in the dim light and, rat forgotten, they were snapping with suppressed anger. "In fact, I don't think we have any idea what we're meant to be doing. It's just you and Gerry going on about things."

"Seconded!" stated Wilf, with a short nod, "Now, are we done?"

"I thought we made it clear," said Gerry, "we're fed up with how Britain has been changed."

"Well, that's just progress, Alb," said Johnno, "you can't stand in the way of progress."

"But it's not progress if it destroys the base," said Mags, who'd somehow wriggled her way to the front and was now shoulder to shoulder with Alb. He was feeling rather oppressed by her proximity and concerned lest she start banging on about Hitler again. She continued with some vigour, "Progress should be an advancement of things, for the better."

"That's right," said Alb, pleased to be able to agree with her, "look at the country today, it's full of foreigners, junkies, gangs, terrorists, muggers....."

"Tourists?" said Ron, his voice coming up at Alb, seemingly from beneath Mags' skirt, "What have tourists got to do with it?"

"Tourists?" said Alb, "what d'you mean, tourists?"

"You said tourists." Ron was struggling to get up and make his point more forcefully but he was hemmed in.

"I didn't," said Alb, "I said...."

"Yes, you did, Alb," said Jonesey.

"We're not attacking tourists, Alb," Val's tone brooked no argument.

"What the hell?" said Alb tetchily, "Who said? I said... I said...what did I say, Gerry?"

"Terrorists, mate," said Gerry.

"Seconded," stated Wilf, "now can you please get to the point."

"Seconded what?" said Ken, to Val's obvious approval.

"Terrorists," said Bill, privately thinking Ron was either deaf or a fool, possibly both.

"You sure, boyo?" questioned Jonesey, "'Cause I could've sworn he said tourists, and, I dunno, seems a bit strong to go around doing in tourists, just sayin' mind."

"I didn't say tourists, for crying out loud, I said terrorists."

"He didn't say tourists," added Gerry, "he definitely said terrorists."

"Yes," Alb looked to Wilf for more support.

"Terrorists," stated Wilf.

"Well, that's okay then," said Jonesey, "'cause we've all been tourists, I've only been to Majorca and that was to visit our Olwyn, 'cause she lives out there, but I wouldn't've liked it if...."

"He said terrorists, Jonesey," said Mags, putting her hand on his shoulder in a steadying fashion, "so can we just leave it there?" She took his silence for affirmation and straightened, looking at Alb with a nod, "You're good to go, Alb."

"Thank you, Mags," said Alb, "now where was I?"

"Whacking tourists...I mean terrorists," said Gerry.

"I still say he said tourists," muttered Ron to Jonesey.

Alb looked near to apoplexy so Gerry intervened, "Ron, Jonesey, let's get back to the point."

"Why yes," agreed Val, her voice like syrup and all the more dangerous for that, "let's get back to the point, which as I see it is this... what on earth can we.." On the word 'we' she tried to spread her arms to encompass them all, but such was the crush that all she managed to do was push her arms straight out in front of her, hitting Ken in the face with her palm.

"Agh," yelped Ken reaching for his nose. "My nose, I think it's bleeding."

"Stop snivelling, for crying out loud," snapped Alb.

"Oh Ken, I'm so sorry" said Val, "d'you need first aid?"

"No, he doesn't," snorted Gerry, "for pity's sake, stop offering everyone first aid all the time."

"I don't," snapped Val, "I only offer it where needed, I'm a trained nurse, you know."

"Thought you was a masseuse," said Wilf, slowly, thinking perhaps he'd got it wrong that time she'd offered to ease his discomfort, but no, surely not.

"Well, I was just trying to help, I'm sure," stated Val.

"I think you've helped enough," muttered Ken, a line of blood trickling into his mouth.

Val frowned at him; not prepared for sarcasm from that quarter, "Kenneth...."

The one word was sufficient, "Oh, I'm sorry Val," he said quickly, "I didn't mean it like that."

'Under the thumb' thought Gerry, saying only, "Can we get back to where we were ...please?"
 
Hope you have a nice weekend

Cheers

Arun







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