Chapter 3

Jerry Smallbridge:

The change in the status of Anna and Jakub’s – sorry, Jack’s – relationship made hardly a ripple on the dynamics of the Smallbridge household. A new surge in Covid infections didn’t really affect us at all as we avoided exposure as far as possible and, of course, we were well set to manage without much outside contact. The first hint of significant change came with a visit from a neighbour. Old Bill had a smallholding adjacent to our property, on which he grew a few vegetables – just enough for his own use and to supply immediate neighbours – and ran some livestock. Like the veg, enough milk, eggs and meat for his own use and some left over for neighbours. He’d been a valuable resource for us. But his wife contracted Covid and died in hospital, a blow which devastated him. With Cumbrian grit, he harvested the crops he had as they matured, and systematically sold off the animals. He offered us the chickens, explaining that he was selling up, and I was happy to buy them from him.

“What will you do, though?” I really liked the tough old chap.

He shrugged. “It’s lonely on the farm on me own, and who wants to live year round out here? Okay, a few visitors during the summer, but not to live. My daughter wants me to go to her, down in Devon. I don’t know if I’ll like it, but it’s something to do.”

I should say that the above wasn’t exactly what he said, but I can’t duplicate the Lakeland dialect.

“If you’re sure,” I told him, “I wish I’d thought about things before. We might have supported you more. I’ve got a houseful here, and one young man is quite a farmer.”

“Thanks,” he shrugged. “I think I’m committed. There’s a firm offer on the old place, which I’d be a fool to turn down.”

At the end of the summer, when the schools started again, he harvested the last of his crops, packed up a few items of sentimental value, and headed south. We did give him an al fresco supper the night before he left during which Jack monopolised his time talking about farming. We put together a pen for the chickens which we could move around.

I was saddened that a few days after he left, machines moved in to level the small fields and plant grass. A fence went up between our two properties, and a hedge to fill the gaps in the trees. Builders moved in to make modifications to the place, though surprisingly much of the furniture was left. I supposed that while old, it was of good quality. Only some mattresses and cushions were replaced, presumably with flame-retardant products, all quite logical.

Of course, we watched with interest, as an alternative to our other occupations – hiking, shooting practice, sailing and camping. The old farm wasn’t in bad condition, but of course it was a little run down – roof and gutters were tidied up, and paintwork redone. The kids were back in school by the time the workmen left, and it was some time later that vehicles started to arrive at the house.

Most notable, though, was that we saw little or nothing of the residents, who made no attempt to relate to their neighbours. Cars – with dark windows – came and went, and deliveries were made by vans and trucks. In view of our past experiences, Sally and I were both troubled and suspicious. I contacted Jon, and laid out our worries.

“I see what you mean, Jerry. Troubling, isn’t it? And no real evidence or cause to obtain a warrant. Let me see what our signals people can do, okay?”

In view of the poor mobile coverage in our area, we’d originally had a landline. In fact, we still had a landline, but I’d gone to satellite for a faster, more reliable service. The t/v signal was better, too, though we watched little. Unknown to us, quite illegally, signals specialists surreptitiously attached monitoring devices to our neighbour’s landline, and noted the addition of a satellite dish. Our new neighbours were uninterested in the landline, in fact, so it was never put into service after our friend departed.

I was informed of the electronic surveillance when Jonny rang me one evening. “There’s definitely something going on,” he said, moodily. “So far, though, we’ve not been able to break their encryption. That means something in itself, of course. It’s not a commercially available system. In fact, it looks like a one-time pad method. So they’re going to a great deal of trouble to hide whatever is going on.”

“Enough for a warrant?” I asked, without much hope.

Jonny was quiet for several moments, and I was tempted to prompt him, but he eventually said, thoughtfully, “Maybe there is. Maybe there is. You know that Police forces all over are responding to the revelations about systematic abuse of kids in care, usually girls, which have been ignored until the scandal broke. Rotherham was the first, but since then it’s just been one after another. Senior officers have been resigning or falling over themselves to make sure they’re whiter than white. It’s certainly possible.”

“I haven’t found a satisfactory way to keep an eye on things from here.”

“No. They’ve screened themselves rather well. It could be explained in terms of industrial security, but I rather doubt that’s it.”

We finished the conversation, and thoughts – bad thoughts – ran through my head. I found Sally, who took one look at me and frowned. “You are worried, Master.”

I couldn’t help a small smile. “Yes, precious Slave, I am worried. I’ve been talking to Jonny. Our neighbours have secrets. Jonny said that there’s a lot of communication, encrypted communication, and they don’t recognise the encryption. He thinks – and I agree – that while it might be industrial secrets, it’s more likely to be something unpleasant. It then occurred to me that we have four children, well, young people, here who might be at risk. Particularly if there were any suspicion about us or their origins.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “They are not defenceless, now, though.”

“I suppose not. But it wouldn’t hurt to step up the practice. Asymmetric training.”

“Both of us at once?” I nodded, “what about asking if we can have the Bassetts?”

“That’s a thought, if they can be spared.”

They could – and also Zoe and Alex. We all took turns in our little dojo, while trying to come up with a way of monitoring what was going on next door.

The summer ended and our guests departed, we still had no positive confirmation of anything wrong with our neighbour. In fact, there was little traffic in and out of the property. The kids were back in school and, at least at first, using the new boat to cross the lake.

There was another surge of infections, though fewer hospitalisations. There were reports of new variants – unsurprising, with any viral infection.

“Hey, Jerry!”

“Jon! To what do we owe the pleasure of a call?”

“Sue and I are overdue for a break. Might we visit for Christmas? I know it’s an imposition.”

“Absolutely not an imposition. Of course we’ll be delighted to have you. When will you come?”

“Week before? Until New Years?”

“Sounds wonderful! We’ll make sure we’re well stocked up. The brewery have stopped making Snecklifter, though, I’m sad to say.”

“I heard that. Have you tried the products of the Black Sheep Brewery? I strongly recommend them.”

“I will see about getting a good supply in.”

“Ever the good host! Sue will bring a supply of the latest vaccine. We’ll make sure you’re all jabbed.”

“Thanks. We really appreciate it.”

Personally, I would have appreciated that vaccine more had it not produced a sore arm, headache, and a lethargy that was hard to overcome. We were all affected, the kids less so – actually, they had a different jab, one approved for under-eighteens. I had to force myself to do basic chores. Sally ... well, you might imagine, knowing her propensity for – I was going to say, mortification, but that’s not fair. She’s just so focussed on service that she ignores her own feelings, sometimes. Anyway, I drooped around for several days, grateful I didn’t need to do very much.

It was a few days before Christmas that the alarms sounded, and the screens showed three men, dragging three early-teen girls, onto our property. It seems that warrants had been obtained after all, and the local constabulary had raided our neighbour, but had failed to cover the rear of the property well.

“Master...” Sally began, but I cut her off.

“I need you to stay here and call Jon. I’ll take the kids, armed, to make sure of them.”

“Yes, Master.” Sally’s response was reluctant, very reluctant, in fact.

The kids had noted the alert and we met in the lounge – they were in night attire, as it was quite late. “Combat gear,” I told them. “Yelka and Lena, long-bows and Glocks, concealed holsters. Anna and Jack, air pistols please, just for your own protection. Sorry, but your archery isn’t good enough yet. You’ll follow us up and take care of the girls, okay? Yelka, you and Lena, don’t even show the Glocks unless it’s essential, and if you have to shoot, shoot to kill. Got it?”