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He did give them some valuable information, however grudgingly and impatiently. He said everyone who’d been caught was held at the Showground. He said that there were two types of soldiers: professionals and the ones who were just there to make up the numbers. Conscripts probably. The professionals were super efficient but the conscripts were badly trained and poorly equipped, and some of them were really vicious. Oddly enough, it was the professionals who treated people better.
He said that the soldiers hadn’t got the numbers to search the town thoroughly, house by house. Their policy was to preserve their own lives at any cost. If they suspected danger in a house they’d set up a rocket launcher and destroy the house, rather than go in to a possible ambush. He said he thought there were a few dozen people like himself hiding out, but after they’d seen what happened to people who, in his words, ‘tried to be heroes’, they were all keeping well out of sight. Robyn got the impression that Mr Clement had his family hidden somewhere close by but he wouldn’t answer any personal questions, so they gave up asking. Then a patrol went past the building, and Mr Clement got really agitated and told them to go.
They crept along the street, but there was little cover and not enough darkness, as the lights were on in several shops. They were dodging towards the door of the newsagency when shots started pouring down the street. Robyn said they sounded so loud it was like they were from ten metres behind, but in reality they didn’t know who was firing or where the shots were coming from. But Robyn and Lee were definitely the targets.
‘We were two steps from the glassed-in bit that takes you to the door of the newsagents,’ Robyn explained. ‘That was the only thing that saved us. It was like we already had the momentum up to go those two steps. Even if we’d been hit by a dozen bullets we’d still have gone the two steps.’
They got into that little bit of cover and went straight on, through the smashed door of the news-agency itself. Robyn took the lead, not realising that Lee had been shot. The newsagency was dark but there was enough light from the street for them to see their way. The trouble was there was enough light to make them good targets, too.
Both of them knew of course that the newsagency goes right through to the carpark and Glover Street. Their idea was to get out the back and then go in whatever direction seemed better at the time. But when Robyn was nearly at the back door she realised two things: that the door was locked, and that Lee was a long way behind her. ‘I thought he’d stopped to look at the pornos,’ she said. But when she turned around she could see by the paleness of his face that he was hurt. He was limping heavily, staring at her but biting his lip, determined not to cry out. She hoped he’d just pulled a muscle but she said ‘Were you hit?’ and he nodded.
Robyn skipped over the next bit pretty quickly but it’s one of the reasons for writing all this down, because I want people to know about stuff like this, how brave Robyn was that night. I don’t want medals for her, and neither would she – well I don’t know, I haven’t asked her, she’d probably love it – but I think she was a bloody hero. She picked up the photocopier that sits on a stand near the lottery desk and chucked the whole thing through the door. Then she ran to Lee, heaved him onto her back, across her shoulders, and carried him through the shattered door, kicking out bits of glass as she went. Now I know Robyn’s fit, and strong, but she’s not that strong. Don’t ask me to explain it. I reckon it’s like those stories of mothers lifting cars to get trapped babies out from underneath, then you ask them the next day to do it again and they can’t even move it, because the urgency’s gone. Robyn, being religious, has got a different explanation, and who knows? I’m not stupid enough to say she’s wrong.
Well, carrying Lee, she staggered along the five buildings to get to the restaurant. The old door at the back, facing the carpark, had been broken open, so she got in there OK. She dropped Lee onto the loading dock and pulled up the roller door and dragged him into the darkness. Then she raced out to the front to have a look into Barker Street. There were three soldiers looking into the newsagency. After a couple of minutes two more came out and joined the other three, then the five of them came walking past the restaurant, lighting cigarettes and talking and laughing. They seemed to just walk off into the distance without showing much interest, so she figured there wouldn’t be any more problems from them for a while.
‘They probably thought you were looters,’ Homer said. ‘Like Mr Clement said, there must be a few around, so the patrols’d see them quite often. They wouldn’t bother mounting a big operation just for that. And they wouldn’t want to blow up Barker Street u
‘But they blew up Corrie’s,’ I said.
‘Mmm,’ Homer agreed. ‘But the shops in Barker Street are still full of stuff. And maybe they found some way of co
Robyn looked horrified and we had to explain what had happened at Corrie’s. Eventually, though, she finished her story. She’d cut Lee’s trousers off while he lay there making rude jokes, but he was cold and pale and she thought he was in shock. She’d stopped the bleeding with a pressure bandage, wrapped him up warmly, then somehow found the courage to go back to City and Country Insurance and wait there nearly an hour, for Mr Clement. When he arrived, with a couple of bags of food, she bullied him into coming to look at Lee.
‘He wasn’t keen,’ she admitted, ‘but in the end he was good. He went into his surgery and came back with all kinds of bits and pieces, including painkiller injections. He gave Lee a needle, then inspected the wound. He said it was clean, and the bullet had gone right through, and if we kept it clean he’d probably be OK, but it’d take a while to heal. He stitched it up, then he taught me how to give injections, and on condition I didn’t bother him again he left some stuff with me – painkillers and disinfectant and a syringe and needles. I’ve given him two injections today. It was cool fun.’
‘Robyn!’ I nearly passed out myself, in amazement. ‘You faint when people even mention injections!’
‘Yes, I know,’ she said, with her head on one side as though she were a botanist studying herself. ‘It’s fu
‘What’s he like now?’ Homer asked. ‘Can he walk?’
‘Not too much. Mr Clement said he’s got to rest it till the stitches come out, in a week minimum. He showed me how to take them out.’
I just rolled my eyes. Robyn taking out stitches! There was no point even commenting.
‘Was there any sign of Lee’s family?’
‘No. And the place was a mess. Windows broken, tables and chairs smashed. And the flat upstairs had been ransacked. It’s hard to know whether there’d been a fight, or whether the soldiers did it for fun.’
‘How’s Lee reacting to all this?’
‘He couldn’t get upstairs, because of his leg, so I had to describe it to him. Then he’d think of something else that he wanted to know about, and I’d have to run up the stairs to look for it. I went up and down those stairs a lot of times. He was pretty upset though, about everything: his family, the flat, the restaurant, his leg. But he was a bit better tonight. Getting some colour in his face. That was about three hours ago. I’ve been sitting here a long time, waiting for you guys. I was getting slightly worried.’
‘You were meant to wait on the hill behind the house,’ I said.
‘No I wasn’t! It was here! That’s what we said!’
‘No! It was the hill!’
‘Listen, we agreed we’d ...’
It was crazy. We were having an argument. Homer said, in a tired voice, ‘Belt up. We’ll just have to make better arrangements next time. Anyway Ellie, when we were talking about it before, you couldn’t remember whether it was the house or the hill.’