Trust (3 page)

        The Badger’s Sett was packed. Drinkers had overflowed outside and were sitting on the grass in front of the building, on the low stone wall surrounding it, on the bonnets of their cars in the car park - anywhere that they could find a space. Once inside I pushed my way through to the bar while the other three looked for a table. Ray Mercer acknowledged me from a distance. By the time I’d fought my way through to him he was already in the middle of pouring our usual round of drinks. `Bloody hell, Ray,’ I yelled, struggling to make myself heard over the dull roar of conversation and thumping music. `Busy, aren’t you?’

        He nodded.

        `Been like it all afternoon, Tom,’ he shouted as he took my money. `Not complaining though. Bloody aliens can come here every Friday if it’s going to do this to me profits!’ `You must have the whole village in here!’ `I think everyone needs a drink after today…’

        Ray disappeared to serve another customer and I began the precarious journey across the room to find the others. `It’s heaving in here,’ Rob said, stating the obvious as I reached the small table they’d found in a hidden corner. `We could go back to mine later,’ I suggested. `I can hardly hear myself think.’

        The atmosphere was hot and dry. I picked up my pint and knocked half of it back with a couple of long, thirsty gulps. `So,’ I said, wiping my lips, `what are we going to talk about?’ The others laughed - the answer was obvious. `The weather?’ offered Siobhan. `Football?’ tried James. `Alien invasions?’ said Rob, unable to think of anything else to say.

        And that was it. For the next two hours we talked about nothing else. Each one of us recounted exactly where we’d been and what we were doing when the alien ship had arrived. We shared our questions, fears, concerns and anything else that came into our minds over far too many pints of beer.

        It was a strange night. Nowhere near as strange as the afternoon that had preceded it mind, but still strange nonetheless.

        Locked in constant, fierce competition with The Sun (the pub across the road), The Badger’s Sett was a warm, comfortable and welcoming place. The drink was always good, there was always hot and cold food available and there wasn’t a single video game machine in sight. It was a traditional British pub - the traditional heart of a traditional British village - and not really the kind of place where you’d expect to find yourself debating mankind’s position in the universe. But at that moment it seemed as good a place as any.

        By ten o’clock our usually relaxing surroundings had become even more crowded and was filled with even more smoke and noise. The day’s events, our long conversation and the effect of copious alcohol combined to leave the four of us sitting round the table feeling suddenly quiet, insular and reflective. For a time the conversation between us was sparse, forced and sporadic.

        My eyes were becoming heavy and the smoke hanging in the air was beginning to make them sting. I excused myself and stood up and went outside to get some air. When I returned (only a few minutes later) I noticed that Ray had dragged an old television set out of one of the pub’s back rooms and had set it up at the far end of the bar. Without warning Ken Trentham - by habit one of Thatcham’s most miserable and reclusive inhabitants - grabbed hold of my arm and stopped me as I made my way back to my friends. `What’s going on?’ he mumbled. `What d’you think they’re doing here?’ `No idea, Ken,’ I answered abruptly, keen to get away. `I’ve never known anything like it,’ he whispered dramatically. `None of us have,’ I replied as I tried to push past him and get back to the others. `Nothing good’ll come of this,’ he hissed, leaning towards me secretively. `You mark my words.’ `Whatever,’ I mumbled, trying hard not to breathe in. The old man stank - an acute and repugnant combination of stale alcohol and halitosis. He stared into my face with cloudy, bloodshot eyes.

        Trentham turned away for a second to pick up his pint and I seized on the chance to get away. `Bloody hell,’ I gasped as I sat down heavily on my hard wooden chair. `Christ, was that Ken Trentham you were speaking to?’

        Siobhan asked incredulously.

        I nodded. `Well, it was more a case of him speaking to me,’ I smiled, `but yes, it was Trentham.’ `I didn’t know you knew that dirty old bugger,’ James said. `I’ve lived round here for almost twenty years and I’ve only ever seen him talk to his dog before now…’ `I don’t know him,’ I said defensively. `It’s not like him to be so sociable…’

        `Fucking hell,’ laughed Rob, `he must be their first victim!’ `What are you talking about?’ asked Siobhan, confused. `The aliens,’ he grinned. `Can’t you see what they’re doing?

        They’ve only been here for a few hours and already they’re screwing up the minds of normally upstanding members of the community! Before you know it we’ll all…’ `Bullshit!’ I snapped.

        Rob shrugged his shoulders. `Of course it is.’ `People are acting differently though,’ Siobhan whispered. `What do you mean?’ asked James.

        She shrugged her shoulders. `Well just look at this place,’ she said, `it’s packed. It’s like a show of unity, isn’t it?’ `Is it?’ `Yes. It’s the old Dunkirk spirit rearing its head again.’ A little uncertain, she paused and looked around the table. `The rules changed today, didn’t they?’ `You’re right. There’s a new player in the game,’ Rob agreed. `None of us know who they are or what they’re going to do and it’s making us feel nervous. I don’t suppose anyone here knows they’re doing it.’ `Doing what?’ interrupted James who seemed to be missing the point. `Bonding together,’ I explained. `Like with like, can’t you see it? This ship has arrived and it’s different, and suddenly it doesn’t matter what race you are, what religion you are, we’re all the same.’ `The same?’ `Well, less different than we were this morning…’

        I stopped speaking. The pub had suddenly become silent.

        The jukebox had been switched off.

        No-one at the bar was being served.

        A brief blast of static and white-noise filled the air as Ray struggled to force an aerial lead into the back of the television set.

        More silence.

        Then more hissing. More static.

        More silence.

        A flickering picture appeared on the screen, disappeared and then reappeared seconds later. `Got it!’ yelled Ray.

        A perfect picture (from where we were sitting) and clear sound.

        I struggled for a second or two to focus through the smoky haze. The television showed more pictures of the alien ship hovering over the ocean. The scene was darker, of course, and a hundred dancing spotlights now ran continually along the smooth underbelly of the vast machine, but generally nothing seemed to have changed. `Silly beggars,’ Mrs Grayson, the lady who worked in the newsagent’s said. Her voice was so loud and shrill that everyone could hear her. We used to joke that when she spoke her squeal was so high-pitched that it made the dogs in the street stop and run to her whenever she opened her mouth. `The whole of the bloody universe to chose from and those daft sods wind up here at the back-end of nowhere!’ `Bloody hell,’ Rob whispered, `can you imagine what the odds against them turning up here must have been?’

        He was right. The chances of the aliens finding our planet must have been slim enough, but to have stumbled upon our village? It defied all comprehension.

        Rob got up and went to fetch more drinks.

        I shuffled my seat round so that I had a better view of the television screen, taking care to stay close to Siobhan. Her hand was resting on my knee. Her touch was more comforting and reassuring than usual tonight. `It’s hard to believe that the rest of the world is watching us here,’ she said under her breath. `Just think, millions of people round the world are watching the same pictures as we are, and we’re only a few miles away from where it’s all happening.’ `Makes you nervous, doesn’t it?’ I said, suddenly feeling brave enough to be honest about my emotions. `I just want to know what they’re here for.’

        Robert returned to the table and put down another round of drinks. He spilled half of my pint - he couldn’t cope with handing round the beers and watching the television at the same time. I tried to mop up the spilt drink with an already soggy beer mat and, as I did so, I became aware that the pub had fallen silent again. I looked up, instantly unnerved.

        Every face was angled towards the television set, and every last face bore an expression of bewildered fascination and uncertainty. I rubbed my tired eyes and stared into the flickering screen.

        The pictures being broadcast were still coming from a position similar to that from which the footage we had seen earlier in the day had been shot. The dark and featureless alien ship was silhouetted against the clear, star-filled sky and it’s immense belly was gently illuminated by lights from the countless ships floating on the rolling ocean below. As I watched, a large rectangular section of the vessel’s metal skin began to slowly slide back in on itself leaving a wide, black hole in the machine’s otherwise featureless undercarriage. I swallowed hard (my mouth was dry) and watched as a soft light began to shine out from the insides of the ship. A sleek, bright and smooth, streamlined object (a missile perhaps?) drifted down into the space between the ship and the surface of the ocean and then stopped. It just hung there, completely motionless. `What the fucking hell is that?’ Robert croaked, his voice also dry with nerves. `You don’t think that…’ He stopped himself from completing his half-finished sentence.

        The pictures on the television screen continued although I feared that, if it was some kind of alien weapon which had just appeared, the live transmission might be cut at any second. In the dark haze on the screen I could just about make out countless shifting shapes scurrying to and fro on the decks of the cruisers and battleships that had gathered there in the past few hours.

        Within a minute of the mysterious new object appearing the sky had filled with swarms of jets, helicopters and surveillance aircraft. Every last weapon on the deck of every last one of the floating war machines was primed and trained skywards, all aimed towards the awesome creation hanging soundless and motionless in the turbulent night air.

        A brilliant electric-blue light began to shine out from the back of the second, smaller alien ship and then, as I held my breath along with the rest of the planet, it gracefully swooped down towards the surface of the water. Instinctively I squeezed Siobhan’s hand and she pulled me closer to her. Like a glider drifting back down to land, the second ship soared silently through the night, eventually stopping perfectly still just a few feet above the rolling waves.

        Every single available spotlight was fixed on the new machine. And every face in the room continued to stare at the television set on the bar.

        For a long time nothing happened.

        There was a long, overpowering and oppressive silence in the pub. A few muffled conversations were taking place but, generally, few people spoke. At twenty-past eleven Ray Mercer cleared his throat and banged a glass on the bar to attract the attention of his customers. Most people didn’t react. One or two glanced up at him to see what the disturbance was before turning back to face the television set again. `Ladies and gents,’ Ray shouted, seemingly unconcerned at the lack of attention being paid to him. `I don’t know about the rest of you, but I think we need to keep drinking tonight. To hell with the law, we’re going for a late one. We’re staying open.’

        Had Ray made that announcement on any other night his words would have earned him a round of applause and a standing ovation at the very least. Tonight, however, the reaction of his customers was unusually muted and subdued. A steady stream of drinkers continued to make their way quietly to the bar. The television and the ringing of Ray’s till were the loudest sounds to be heard.

        And still the two alien ships hung motionless over the ocean.

        We had amassed a vast collection of empty glasses on our small table and I was alarmed to see just how much drink we had managed to knock back in our extended evening session. I felt fine - completely sober in fact - and that alarmed me too. The alcohol I’d drunk hadn’t had its normal numbing effect on my brain. What was happening out to sea was keeping everyone’s emotions firmly in check and our feet on the ground.

        The next time anyone spoke (other than when they fetched another round of drinks or disappeared off to the toilet) it was well past midnight. Without any of us noticing Friday night had silently disappeared and become Saturday morning.

        `Shit!’ James yelled. He had noticed me checking the time and had looked at his own watch. `Christ, have any of you seen the time? Bloody hell, Steph’ll have my balls if I don’t get back…’ `What?’ Siobhan mumbled, half-listening. Like just about everyone else she was still watching the television screen. `I’ve got to go,’ he said anxiously. `Jesus, I’m in trouble now…’ `She’ll understand,’ Robert yawned. `Just tell her you were watching the television and you got engrossed.’ `Do you really think she’ll buy that?’

        Rob shrugged his shoulders. `Why not? She’s probably sat there at home watching it herself.’ `No,’ James whined, `she’s going to go ballistic. I can’t tell her I’ve been watching telly, can I? Christ, we’ve got three bloody tellies at home. She’ll want to know why I didn’t go back and watch one of those, won’t she?’ `All right then,’ Siobhan sighed. `Why don’t you just go back now and…’