Squelch (22 page)

‘They’re opening the doors!’ she yelled excitedly. ‘I can see them opening the doors. Oh Alan, they’re still alive! I’m going over to help. Over and out!’

Bernie too had noticed the plane’s doors opening. He was already putting on his safety helmet and fumbling with the press studs of the rubber face mask. He had rejected the offer of an Army suit, saying he found it too restricting. Ginny agreed with him and now preferred heavy overalls, though still using the Army helmet. But nothing they had tried so far was ideal; that was another area where more research was needed.

They clumped over the grass towards the Boeing. The caterpillars were thick on the ground. With every footstep she felt them writhing beneath her boots. By now the moths were whistling again in an eerie concert of high-pitched squeaks which were steadily becoming louder.

Bernie touched her arm, pointing. Something was happening in the plane. In the open doorway, two figures were manhandling what looked like a long, flat crate. Then they tipped it over and seemed to be thumping the bottom.

Out of it fell two of the biggest lizards she had ever seen. Five feet long at least, with whipping tails and stumpy legs which carried them rapidly a short distance away from the plane. They stopped, suddenly motionless; then their heads looked around, as if bewildered.

Watching the nearer of the two, Ginny saw its tongue
shoot out. The caterpillars didn’t have a chance against it, though some were already beginning to crawl over its back. Lazily, the second lizard picked them off.

One of the men on board came down to join them. He and Bernie together took the weight of the next crate as it was lowered to them and placed it carefully on the ground. Someone tossed down a crowbar which Ginny seized. She levered the lid off, tugging it open to release the next two lizards, almost falling as they tangled with her legs in their eagerness to escape.

Moths came screaming at her as she worked, spitting their venom across her visor and helmet. Caterpillars – some longer and more agile than any she’d ever come across before – crept over the crates and on to her gloves, or clung to the leather of her high boots. Occasionally she paused to pick them off, but more always appeared. She began to feel desperately that they had chosen her out as their special target until she noticed that Bernie and the other man were also covered with them.

She lost count of how many crates she’d opened – more than ten, it must have been – before at last she straightened up, gasping for breath, the sweat pouring over her body beneath the thick overalls. Everywhere she looked she saw these long, slender lizards, dark in colour with pale yellow rib-like patches at intervals down the full length of their bodies. The moths were fewer now; any that ventured too near the ground were soon trapped by those darting tongues.

Muffled grunts came from the two men as yet another crate came down. They staggered under its weight.

‘Careful!’ Ginny shouted.

Bernie took a blind step backwards in an attempt to keep his balance.

She ran forward to help.

The crate had tilted as it was lowered from the plane
and they had gripped it awkwardly. In trying not to drop it they lurched towards the discarded lids with their protruding nails. Before Ginny could do anything, Bernie trod on a loosened board which gave way and he fell heavily with the crate on top of him. A nail ripped through his trouser leg, gashing his calf.

Despite the lizards, caterpillars came out of the grass from all directions, attracted by the blood. They swarmed over him, snuffling into the wound on his leg and searching his safety clothing for more openings.

‘Bernie! Oh Bernie!’ she sobbed as she went down on her knees to try and pick them off.

There were too many. She wanted to throw them aside but they clung to her gloves. Tearing them apart was more effective but more kept coming. The pesticide aerosol she carried at her belt made no impact on them. Even the lizards were too occupied elsewhere, all but one which darted over to investigate, licked up two or three caterpillars only, then scuttled off in another direction.

Someone took hold of her shoulders and lifted her up, trying to comfort her. Two others had come down to help and were discussing whether or not to get him into the plane, but it was already too late. His fall had knocked his hard helmet awry, snapping open one of the press studs of his face mask. A caterpillar had already found the gap.

It was over, she knew. Blood from his throat slowly dripped on to the grass. One of the would-be rescuers shook his head and stood up. Bernie was dead.

Unable to accept it, Ginny knelt down again amidst the caterpillars to cradle his head on her arm, but it lolled limply to one side and she saw a gash too on the rubber neck-piece below the face mask. From it a caterpillar protruded.

Defeated, she left it to feed; what else could she do? Slowly she got to her feet. From the top of a pile of empty
crates a lizard was regarding her philosophically. It began gathering caterpillars off her overalls with its long tongue.

‘Come on, then!’ she screamed at the others. She retrieved her crowbar and began to tackle the unopened crate which had killed Bernie. ‘Let’s get these lizards out! Can’t stand round all day!’

They had won, though with Bernie’s death Ginny was too dazed to take anything in. All meaning had gone.

She returned to the house later that day dreading the prospect of having to tell Lesley what had happened. The first time she rang Mary answered the phone and swore at her angrily when she realised who was speaking. No, she could
not
have a word with Lesley! A click, and the line went dead. She dialled again, only to hear the Number Unobtainable tone.

She was tempted to leave it at that, but it was her duty and she had to go through with it. Somewhere she had a number for the school which she’d looked up days earlier. She found it and rang the school secretary who explained in a great hurry that they were on the point of evacuating everyone to Scotland. Reluctantly she agreed to take a message.

So Ginny dictated the bare facts about Bernie’s death and how sorry she was. It seemed so heartless, put like that.

How long she sat there after ringing off she never knew. But at last she stirred herself, collected her clothes from the bedroom, her toothbrush, her pills, her comb, and moved back to the cottage.

The next days were hectic enough to keep her from brooding. They made regular checks at Gatwick and by the end of the week were able to report the airport clear of caterpillars. Their twenty-five monitor lizards had become fat and lazy. With Fred’s help she caught a couple
and took them back to the cottage to live with her.

Members of the Ministry’s scientific committee arrived by Army transport to judge for themselves and pronounced the experiment a success. The attacks in London had brought the Government under considerable pressure to take immediate action regardless of cost. Planes were requisitioned to fly in carnivorous lizards from all over the world. Vast numbers were bought from any country in Africa willing to trade them, although many died when the weather turned cold.

But the caterpillar menace was finally beaten.

Services of thanksgiving were held throughout Britain. The Prime Minister appeared on television to proclaim the success of the Government’s policy. At a press conference of his own, the ex-President let it be known that the initial plane-load of lizards had come as his personal gift to the United Kingdom. He modestly suggested that the British Cabinet could have consulted him earlier.

People returning to their homes in the stricken areas were advised to keep monitor lizards as house pets, and many did. But a five-foot lizard can be quite a nuisance in a living room and the majority were given quarters in the garden shed, only to die as winter came on.

Ginny kept her two and was glad of their company during the long empty months that followed. Jeff kept in touch but was usually busy. Alan was in Cardiff doing computer studies. Not even Jack was around. In fact no one knew where he was till he sent her a picture postcard from California.

She was on her own. To fill the days, she put her notes in order and began work on the book her agent was nagging her to write:
The Caterpillar Episode
.

15

‘Ginny! I was hoping you’d drop by!’

Jeff strode over to the Renault and opened the door for her. He’d had the house painted, she noticed as she got out; in the warm sunlight it gleamed like a whitewashed Mediterranean villa.

It was a year now since the caterpillar invasion, but it still made her shiver to see his windows standing wide open with no wire mesh to protect them. In fact, all that remained visible from those days were the aerials on the roof. They had actually had the gall to prosecute him in court for operating a wireless transmitter without a licence; luckily, the magistrate had been on his side. He’d fined Jeff one penny, which he had paid himself.

They kissed, then she broke out of his hug to dive back into the car for her shopping bag.

‘Strawberries,’ she announced, holding it up. ‘Thought this time I’d bring something.’

‘I have news!’

‘What kind of news?’

‘Three kinds – good, interesting and indifferent. Which d’you want first?’

‘First I want to get out of this sun. It’s going to be a scorching summer again. Are you sure you should leave those windows open?’

In the living room she found he had a visitor: a slim, athletic Nigerian dressed in a colourful
agbada
. He stood at the table frowning with hard concentration as he poured himself a beer.

‘You remember Enoch?’ Jeff introduced him.

‘Hi, Ginny! Like a beer? It’s all froth. Someone has really been shaking it up.’ He put the can down to squeeze her hand. ‘No more caterpillars, I hope.’

‘I hope so too,’ she said soberly, accepting a glass. ‘Cheers! Now what’s this mysterious news, Jeff? Start with the indifferent.’

‘You’d better sit down,’ he advised drily. ‘It’s simply this. The Royal Commission report on the caterpillar invasion comes out tomorrow. For the full details we’ll have to wait for the papers in the morning, but I’ve been up in London having a word with one or two people I know and they’ve told me the gist of it.’

‘Which is?’

‘The main conclusion is that the airlift of monitor lizards played only a comparatively small part in the defeat of the caterpillars. According to them, the rapid growth in the numbers of these caterpillars was caused by unusually hot damp weather, combined with the absence in this country of natural enemies. When the weather changed, the caterpillars died off. It’s as simple as that.’

‘The bastards!’ She was appalled. ‘Was there anyone on that Commission who actually lived through it? Without the lizards we’d all be dead.’

‘As for the experiments which produced the things in the first place, it seems Sophie Greenberg did not give evidence. This kind of genetic engineering – interfering with the sperm or ovum to produce changes in the genetic inheritance – is claimed to be the great white hope for the future. It could stamp out hereditary diseases, so it seems. Or even produce the next generation’s crop of Olympic gold medallists. They advise that all experimentation should be brought under Government control.’

‘That should be enough to stop it!’ Enoch remarked cheerfully. ‘Jeff, I’ll bring those other cans out of the fridge. Perhaps this beer is too cold.’

Ginny tried to force a smile, but failed. None of this would bring Bernie back to life, nor any of the others either. Government compensation plans had provided some money for widows with dependants and, of course, the disabled. Lesley would get something she supposed. But they were not even taking steps to prevent it happening again.

‘You’d think they’d at least keep a stock of lizards in a zoo somewhere.’

‘They say too few survived the winter,’ Jeff explained.

‘Because people didn’t look after them, that’s why!’

‘Oh, I agree.’

Was Lesley keeping any lizards, she wondered. She was sure Mary had been responsible for her sister’s silence, particularly about Frankie having been in hospital. It was pure coincidence that she’d heard about it at all. Of course Lesley was bitter, but she’d been the first to acknowledge her guilt, hadn’t she? That terrible episode at the house still rankled with her. Told that Lesley was there to supervise the removal men, she’d gone over right away. ‘Les – please, can’t we make up?’ she’d pleaded, desperately needing her sister’s arms around her. No response. It had been like talking to someone long since dead inside. Then, as she was on the point of leaving, Les spoke to her. ‘You may as well know, Ginny. I hate you, and I always shall.’ And those words spun round and round in her mind, never leaving her alone.

‘Hey, Ginny!’ Jeff called to her across the room. ‘Perk up, Ginny! You haven’t asked me what the good news is.’

‘Tell the interesting news first,’ she asked, trying her best to snap out of that mood.

‘Ah – the interesting news!’ Enoch came back into the room and stood by the door listening, a quiet smile on his face. Darting past him came one of Jeff’s domestic lizards. It stopped on the hearth-rug, its eyes fixed on her. ‘Yes, well the interesting news is that Enoch has landed a
contract for a regular freight run between London and Lagos. I’ve managed to raise some capital to buy our own plane. We’re going into partnership.’

‘But that’s great, Jeff! A Boeing?’

‘707 of course. First of our fleet. We’re going to call her Ginny.’

‘Thank you, kind sir!’ She raised her glass.

‘And the
good
news…’ He gazed at her, his eyes twinkling and that angular jaw more prominent than ever as he smiled. ‘Better fasten your seat belt. You and I are going to Los Angeles the week after next.’

‘Oh, are we?’ she retorted scornfully. ‘Why? And you’d better make it good.’

‘Remember that story about moths you tried hawking round the TV companies?’

‘Threw it away,’ she said. ‘It was useless.’

‘That copy you lent me to read – well, I had a few extra rolled off to show to a couple of people I know. If you can set the story in the United States we might have a buyer. It’s not certain, mind, but I’ve a feeling a trip there might clinch it.’

Ginny got up, speechless, stepped over the recumbent lizard and put her arms around Jeff, burying her head against his shoulder. ‘You really do try, don’t you?’ she told him when she felt sufficiently recovered from the surprise. ‘You old pirate!’

She kissed him.

‘Thought you might be pleased,’ he said smugly. ‘I’ll show you the letter. Came this morning. This could be the turning-point for you.’

About an hour later she was sitting in the bow window thinking it over while Jeff was busy in the kitchen preparing a meal and Enoch wandered in and out setting the table. If the American company bought the script, she mused, she might have to stay over there for a few months. But she was ready for that sort of change. Perhaps
she’d be able to call on Jack and meet this American girl he’d astonished everyone by marrying. Then something Jeff said caught her attention.

‘In really hot weather it seems the life cycle may be no longer than three weeks from egg to fully-grown moth,’ he was shouting over the sizzling of the steaks in the frying pan. ‘And they multiply rapidly which – according to the experts – is just what happened.’

‘But surely they cannot all be dead. Don’t they hibernate? So now the warm weather has returned…?’

The breeze from the open window was mild against Ginny’s cheek. Across the entire width of the sky were broad splashes of red from the setting sun. It was going to be a beautiful day tomorrow.