Pantry

"But Wayne's in jail," Anna objected.

"His brother Dean isn't. Dean was at the rave on Saturday night. He's been arrested as one the suspected drug dealers."

"Tracy would have recognised Dean," I objected.

"Perhaps not, Mike. We didn't at first and he is a person of interest," DS Andrews said. "He has changed his hairstyle from dreadlocks to short back and sides. He used to have a spider's web tattoo on his face. That's gone. It must have been a temporary tattoo. With short hair and a clean face he looks very different."

"I might have recognised Dean even with the changes," Anna said, "but I can understand why Tracy might not have done in the darkness at the rave."

"Which reminds me, Anna," DS Andrews said. "You've told us about the people wandering around your farm. We know that there will be more raves soon. There has been a worrying development in the next county. They have had naked raves and that one Saturday was trying to be one. Apparently the idea is that the Police cannot identify anyone if they are naked and carrying no form of identity. That doesn't work. We can use a fingerprint scanner. What is dangerous is that too many young women at those raves are being attacked when nude. Drink, drugs and a crowd of naked people means sex. With no clothing at all the women are very vulnerable. Please let us know if there any signs of people setting up a stage."

"I know a neighbour had their phone line cut before a rave started," Anna said. "That was expensive to repair and pointless. They used a mobile to call the Police. My mobile signal is erratic but my landline is secure."

"Secure? How?" DS Andrews asked.

"During the war the castle tower was used by the Observer Corps. They laid an armoured cable from the exchange underground to the inside of the keep and right up to the top of the tower. They over-engineered it and it was maintained by them until the end of 1990s. I have thirty-six lines and the cable was buried at least twelve feet deep. My broadband, personal and farm landlines come down from the tower. No rave organiser can cut them."

We left after DS Andrews repeated his request for the Police to be told about any rave activity.

When I climbed back into Anna's truck I was weak and exhausted.

"Are you OK, Mike?" Anna asked.

"No," I replied. "I'm feeling woozy again."

"OK. I'll drive you back to the farm. I've got to do some shopping so I'll get Petra to look after you. You'll like her."

"Petra?" It took me a real effort to say that.

"Petra is the forewoman of the Polish farm workers. She's a granny who came along to look after her two sons. She didn't trust them in England on their own. She didn't need to worry. They're great lads, or men, working as qualified electricians and plumbers. But she needed something to do, so she started working for my great uncle. She organised his other Polish workers efficiently so he made her the forewoman. The workers like, no love, her. She's like a mother to most of them -- a strict but fair mother. She'll make sure you are OK."

I wasn't really taking Anna's words in. My head was reeling and my stomach was rioting as we bumped down the farm access track. Anna had to help me to get out of her truck and into the pantry. While we were away there had been changes. A corner of the pantry had been portioned with bare chipboard. Inside there was a basic chemical toilet. I staggered to the butler sink and emptied my lunch. Anna helped me to get to the chemical toilet and propped me up while I peed into it.

She half-carried me through to the kitchen. I lowered myself into the armchair.

"Stay there, Mike," Anna ordered. "I'll get Petra."

Anna went through the metal door. I closed my eyes and tried to ignore the spinning sensation in my head. I think Anna was gone for about ten minutes. I don't really know. I opened my eyes as she came back with Petra.

Petra was a large built woman in her fifties with a wonderful smile. She looked at me.

"He does look poorly, Anna. Are you OK leaving your boyfriend with me?"

"Of course, Petra," Anna replied. "I trust you, and him, not that he's in a fit state to do anything with you."

"That's a pity. He's more suited to my build than most of the men around here. But I'll look after him. Off you go."

Anna kissed my cheek and left. As soon as she had gone, Petra kissed my other cheek.

"Just stay there, Mike. I'll bring you a drink in a minute."

I closed my eyes again. Now I was sitting still my head wasn't spinning so much.

Petra spoke to me. I hadn't caught what she said. I opened my eyes. She was sitting in front of me holding a mug.

"What did you say, Petra?" I asked.

"I said 'Here's your soup' but you were not with it, were you?"

"No Petra. I wasn't and I'm not. I'm annoyed. It's nearly two days..."

"And some of my Polish friends are still in hospital. The last I heard they won't be discharged before Wednesday, if then. You, Mike, are in a much better state than they are."

There was a knock on the pantry's outer door. Petra put the soup down beside me.

"I'll get that. It's my sons come to install the toilet. Just stay still, Mike. Don't try to pick up that soup."

Two orders from Petra. Was I obeying because the drug was still working? Or because I was as weak as a new born kitten? It doesn't matter. I obeyed anyway.

Petra came back, shutting the door to the pantry behind her.

"They will be as quiet as they can be but there will be some noise. They're installing a proper toilet for Anna. It's a break from putting in hundreds of yards of fruit bush watering pipes. You can use the chemical toilet until they've finished. Which reminds me."

Petra stopped talking, moved to kneel beside me, and held the mug of soup for me to drink. It was cool enough to drink. It seemed to be chicken-based but with a few delicate spices. It went down without causing my stomach to complain.

"Chicken soup, as recommended by all Jewish mothers for invalids, but my own recipe," she said as I finished drinking it. She remained kneeling beside me.

"Can you answer a question for me, Mike?"

"I can try," I said. I felt better. Whether it was sitting still, or Petra's soup, I don't know, but I was beginning to feel almost human again.

"In the pump house for the watering system is a pile of paper sacks. They are labelled 'Pot Perm'. I think I know what they are but what would you think?"

"Potassium Permanganate," I replied almost automatically. "Usually crystals used for disinfection of water supplies."

"Do they turn purple in water, Mike?"

"Yes, and can stain skin and clothing. For disinfecting water you use a very small quantity."

"I thought so. There's nearly a tonne of the sacks."

"A tonne? What does Anna want that much for? That would be too much for a large reservoir."

"I think it dates from before Anna's great uncle died. But my sons, if it is potassium permanganate, have an idea to deter naked ravers. If they put that chemical through the bush spraying system, the naked ravers would be stained purple. They wouldn't risk coming back to this farm, would they?"

"That might get Anna into trouble," I suggested.

"She won't know. If there are complaints, my Polish sons will say, through an interpreter, that they turned the sprayers on to soak the ravers. They didn't know that some other Polish idiot had added potassium permanganate to the water supply..."

"That might work, as long as Anna really doesn't know. But I'm sure your sons' English is as good as yours, Petra. It is, isn't it?"

"Of course. I wouldn't be a good mother if I hadn't insisted they did their homework when studying English. But they can pretend not to understand English or what Pot Perm means. The pump house is behind the packing shed and draws water from what was the castle's moat. The fruit bushes haven't been planted yet, and if there is a rave here, the obvious place is where my sons have been working. Enough about that. How are you feeling now, Mike?"

"Better, I think, as long as I sit still."

"Hungry?"

I had to think about that. Could my stomach cope with food?

"Maybe," I said. "I don't want to be sick again, Petra."

"You won't be. I'll make you a potato based omelette. That should quieten things down." Petra kissed my cheek again. She continued to talk as she started to prepare the omelette. "I think Anna has found a good one in you, Mike. She needs someone, not just me as her substitute Polish mother. Be good to her."

"I'll try, Petra. I like Anna."

"But not love?"

"It's too soon, Petra. I've known and appreciated Anna for years as my sister's friend. I am beginning to see Anna differently but it is too soon for her, and for me. We're both recovering from bad relationships and are very cautious..."

"You don't need to be," Petra retorted. "Anna has more than liked you for years. She talked about Helen's brother a lot. She kept comparing you to other men."

"I'm no saint, Petra," I said.

"She doesn't need a saint, Mike. She needs a man and she wants you. I don't think you will be allowed a choice. Anna has claimed you."

"That's what Helen said."

"And she's right. I don't think Anna will let you leave here without becoming her accepted boyfriend. Do you object?"

"Of course not, Petra. If Anna wants me, I'm hers."

That was a definite statement of intent from me. Petra walked across to me to give me a hug.

"You're a good boy, Mike."

As I ate Petra's delicious omelette she told me something about Anna's farm. Her great uncle Charles had employed immigrant workers during the fruit picking season until he couldn't find local people to work all year round. He had bought two, then three, old mobile trailer homes and had employed six Polish women as year round farm workers. They had lived in the first two trailers because the third needed work. Petra's sons Jan and Paul, who had qualifications as plumbers and electricians, came to the farm initially to connect up the plumbing to the two trailers and then to repair the third. When that was ready Charles had offered it to them to live in. Petra's sons had accepted readily. They had been living in an expensive squalid bedsit in the nearby town. A renovated trailer was much more comfortable and affordable because Charles offered it to them rent free if they became part time farm workers. They had to be 'farm workers' because Charles could only house farm workers in the trailers on his land.

They had invited Petra to visit them for a holiday because they had a spare bedroom in the three-bedroom trailer. They had to agree that with Charles because Petra wasn't a 'farm worker'. Charles said she could come in exchange for doing at least half of one single day as a 'farm worker'. But Petra had found that the six Polish women weren't working very efficiently. That wasn't their fault but Charles hadn't really explained what should be done when and how. In her half day Petra had spent most of her time with the six women so that they could sort out a proper work schedule. At the end of the half day the women were happier, working better, and finding their tasks easier. Charles was impressed and offered Petra more work.

That was five years ago. Petra hadn't been back to Poland since. Why should she? Her sons were here. Her married daughters were living in the crowded family home in Poland but they too could and did come to visit England.

Charles had been pleased with Petra's sons work and he decided there was yet another task that they, and perhaps Petra and the six women could tackle. On edge of the farm was a derelict row of Victorian farm workers' cottages. They were structurally sound but hadn't been lived in since the 1940s. The problem was that they, like the trailers, could only be used legally by farm workers. Even that permission had lapsed in the 1960s. Charles applied for planning permission to renovate the houses for farm workers. The permission had been readily granted. It wasn't a change of use and Charles had resident farm workers. The houses were set back from a main road. A private footpath linked them to the main farmhouse/castle. One of the first tasks had been to put an all-weather surface on the footpath and solar-powered lighting.

Over the next three years four of the houses had been restored, re-roofed, rewired, re-plumbed and modernised. They had been four bedroom terraced houses. Now they were three bedroom houses with a family bathroom and an ensuite shower room for the main bedroom. The kitchens were modern and easy to run. Petra lived in one of the houses. Her sons lived in another. The six women shared two houses until more of the terrace could be renovated. Eventually there should be twelve sound modernised houses, a Polish community, or part-Polish because Petra's sons had English fiancées, and the women had English boyfriends. As long as one of each eventual couple was a farm worker -- they could occupy the houses legally.

Charles had an interest in antique farm machinery. In the massive old barn that was used to store the farm's equipment he had accumulated a museum size collection of useless machinery. Anna had sold the two working steam traction engines because she needed the money to improve the farm and she couldn't drive them. She would have had to take another driving test, and the traction engines needed boiler certification every few years. There was still a large mass of farm machinery that was never used, even if some of it was in working order. Sometime Anna intended to sell it all off but she had other priorities before that.

When Charles had died and Anna had inherited the farm, Petra effectively became the farm manager until Anna was free of Wayne. Anna was still learning how to run the farm but she was more active than her great-uncle Charles had been in his last couple of years. The farm was more productive now. Anna and Petra had been bringing more land into production for fruit instead of sheep grazing. Once the watering system was operational that would double the area for growing soft fruit, perhaps not this year but next. During the winter another house might be finished. If it was, Petra's older son Jan wanted to marry his fiancée next Spring.

With more food inside me, and just sitting still talking to Petra I began to feel almost like myself again. I would be reluctant to do anything strenuous but I felt that the drug was leaving my system.

A man's head appeared around the kitchen door.

"Mum," he said, "we have done as much as we can until Anna gets back with the saniflo."

"OK, Jan," Petra replied. "I'll tell you when Anna's back."

Jan went back into the pantry. I heard the outer door close behind him.

"Which reminds me, Mike," Petra said. "There's something important I have to tell you."

I must have looked puzzled.

"Don't worry, Mike." She said. "I didn't know the connection until I spoke to Anna today. My son Jan, who you saw just now, is engaged."

"Congratulations to him," I said automatically.

"To Tracy." Petra waited for my reaction.

"To Tracy? The Tracy who was my girlfriend?"

"That Tracy. I'm glad you said 'was my girlfriend' and not 'Tracy the pain' or something ruder, Mike."

"I owe Tracy for what she did for me on Saturday night," I replied. "That was the action of a friend. But why was she there if she is engaged to Jan?"

"Jan was out with some of his Polish friends watching a Polish football match. Tracy wanted to go to the rave to hear the local group that she had been told were there. They weren't. Tracy had been lied to. She thought it was her friends who did the lying. It wasn't. They were told that the group would be there so that they could tell Tracy. One of the people was acting for Dean -- only one who wasn't really one of Tracy's close friends, more an acquaintance of a friend. Tracy wouldn't have gone if she'd known what the event really was..."

"And if she hadn't gone she wouldn't have looked after me," I replied.

"True. But if she hadn't gone they might not have used the drug on you."

"How is Tracy now? With Jan I mean."

"She's grown up a lot since breaking up with you."

I stopped myself saying anything. Tracy would be Petra's daughter-in-law.

"Tracy has told Jan and me a lot of what she did to you. At my age I can read between the lines. What she told us was a cleaned up version of the reality. But when you left her that shook her up. She knew she had not lost, but wasted her chance with a good man. She had loved you..."

"...and I had loved her and still would if..."

"and she had treated you like dirt. You tried to make her change and all she did was behave even worse than before. It took months before she could accept that she had really ruined the relationship beyond repair. The injunction when it came was too late. She had already accepted that you had gone forever. She still has a soft spot for you, Mike, for someone she had loved, and who had loved her..."

"...I had. That is why I let her hurt me so much. I had loved Tracy but she made that love impossible, Petra."

"She's changed, Mike. She has behaved impeccably with Jan. They love each other and I'm sure she'll be a great daughter-in-law. She accepts that she hurt you, and hurt herself by being such a bitch towards you."

"But that is long past now, Petra. If I met Tracy I would wish her and Jan well."

"Thank you, Mike. Tracy has told us what you do for a living. Anna, and we Poles might need your professional help."

"My help? Why? For what?"

"Anna is worried about the people who come on to the farm at night. So are we. We don't know why they come or what they are after. They're around too often for it to be just for arranging a rave. The CCTV shows them moving around but in the dark the images are too dim to identify anyone or what they are doing. Could you?"

"I can try. I owe Anna for sorting me out. Whether I'm fit enough yet? I'm not sure. I'll talk to Anna when she gets back. What's she shopping for? Clothes? She's been a long time."

"Not clothes. She's collecting a macerator. I think that's what it is called. It connects at the back of the toilet and allows the waste to pass down a small pipe outlet. Even Jan and Paul couldn't cut a large bore hole through the pantry's wall. It's part of the old castle and very thick stone work. But it already has a waste pipe for the two sinks. They'll connect the macerator to that, and Anna will have a toilet next to her kitchen instead of an old bucket or the chemical toilet from an old caravan."

"That would be a real improvement," I said.

"Are you fit enough to walk a few yards, Mike?" Petra asked. "I'd like to show you one of the projects that Anna and my sons are working on."

"I think so," I said, standing up. My head seemed to stay in one place without any of the spinning sensations I'd been having.

"It's through that door," Petra said.

She stood beside me then lifted my arm to rest across her shoulders.

"Let me know if you feel dizzy, Mike."

"OK. But I'm OK at present."

She opened the metal door leading from the kitchen. It was surprisingly thick.

"That's a two hour fire door," Petra said. "You'll see why."

We walked a few steps down a stone passage to a heavy, obviously ancient, carved wooden door. Petra heaved it open. Beyond was a medieval hall with a wonderful wooden ceiling and even a minstrel gallery. It was small for a Great Hall. At the far end was a screen with two open archways. There were two long tables almost the full length with high backed chairs either side. They would seat about thirty people. I counted chairs and multiplied by four. Twenty-four. No. I'd forgotten the chairs at each end of the tables, another four, totalling twenty-eight.

"Beyond there is the packing shed, but it's not a shed. It's another part of the castle with an arched stone ceiling. That is absolutely fireproof, unlike this hall. There's another fire door beyond the screen. But what Anna's great-uncle Charles, and now Anna wanted to do was to use this hall for medieval themed banquets. Jan and Paul have been repairing and rewiring it. The old wiring was eighty years old at least and dangerous. They've run conduit under the floor boards and put the sockets in a new skirting board, leaving the original wood panelling untouched. It's made them swear more than my sons usually do because it has been so difficult to wire very carefully."