Visitors – A New Novel by John Stewart
CHAPTER FOUR
Shaw assumed that the Visitors would visit other countries. So in his eyes every moment counted, before they powered off to the States or the East or anywhere for that matter. He needed bright young men to follow up the Visitor’s ideas. Men strong enough to stand against the massed ranks of the vested interest. The Chancellor, that monument to fossilised ability, would do nothing and the Education Minister was in the pocket of the academics. Dear God, he’d started off with all the usual good intentions. He’d picked the best men: another cabinet of ‘all the talents’. They were the perfect team to set the nation back on course. Now, after barely a year, a major reshuffle seemed unavoidable. Indeed with the advent of the Visitors it was essential.
Toby Simpson, the name seemed to come from nowhere. Yes, he was the man and if the press thought they had an easy prey, he’d soon relieve them of their misconception. The idea propelled him out of bed. A busy day lay ahead.
*
It had been a stimulating dinner party, with substantial conversation. No gossiping, thank God. The Chateau bottled flowed but it didn’t seem to have the least effect. And that blond angel that his sister had invited; she was special. A classics graduate with a name to match: Drusilla, the feminine of Drusus. His schoolboy Latin still glimmered faintly. He yawned stretched himself and checked the bedside clock again. It was almost 6 am. The phone rang. His hand stretched out sleepily.
‘What is it this time?’ he muttered.
‘Yes Prime Minister!’
Suddenly Toby Simpson was very much awake.
*
Toby Simpson, a crinkly-haired, trim-figured man above average height, arrived at Number Ten at 9.30 as requested. Almost at once the Prime Minister greeted him.
‘We’ll talk in the car,’ the PM said briefly.
Cromwell Road and the M4 approach were busy but not impossible. So sandwiched between two blue-flashing police cars, they reached the M4 quickly. By then the PM had just finished scanning the newspapers. ‘At times, I do believe the public are informed by those who know the least! But there it is: part of our strange chaotic system that somehow seems to muddle through! Now, Toby.’
‘Yes, Prime Minister’
‘I would like you to oversee our dealings with these far off friends. I don’t want their ideas buried by the vested interests of some puffed up minister’s ego or that of any pressure group or body. You will have Cabinet rank and you’ll have my backing, provided you’re not some retro-Leninist!’
‘You haven’t seen my tee shirt, Sir!’
‘We’ll get on well, Toby. This morning I’ll be introducing you to ‘The Captain’. He is a remarkable man/being. I’m not sure how to put it. His remit is to answer questions but not to initiate an action. Seems a pretty non-aggressive stance. I trust them but, Toby, be your own man. It’s the truth that matters not some hoary headed vested interest.’
‘On the economic front, the freehold vested interest will no doubt be the worst. We had the first shot in the commons yesterday.’
‘What are they afraid off? In the short term they wouldn’t loose much. Even in the long term, anyway it would take years to implement. Too speedy a change would require a Stalin and you might be pleased to know that’s not my style! And, Toby, I’ve got a feeling they’d be better off by far if this system were in place. For one thing, no death duties!’
‘Have you any other thoughts or advise, Prime Minister?’
‘Their views on education would be helpful. Some of our classrooms seem to be unmanageable free-for-alls, and any hint of punishment sends the PC lobby into orbit. We need ideas! There’s ‘drugs’ of course, but they may not suffer from such self-destructive habits! Toby, the field’s wide open.’
‘You’ve given me quite a task, Prime Minister. Thanks for your trust.’
‘Well, your name came into mind just as I was getting up. The gods directed, as it were! And by the way, we’ll be meeting Her Majesty this afternoon. Now, Toby, here’s another question. – Whereas the Queen is greatly loved and much respected, the wreckers, though unintentional in the main, do not understand the benefits of our constitutional monarchy. I need ammunition to defend our priceless heritage. The Crown is the focus of excellence and the final guardian of our freedoms. It stands for the values of the spirit and represents humanity in affairs of state. Here is the final hope of mercy and a sympathetic ear. A faded politician tarnished by the hurly burly of political life cannot do this. The monarchy is an awesome responsibility. If sometimes there are faults, we must remember the importance of the office. That we must protect.
‘This tittle-tattle dominated media world makes the monarch’s role extremely difficult. And here’s another one; what about the media’s role. Toby, ask whatever comes to mind for we need the wisdom of these people. Indeed, I fear our nation has forgotten much about the richness of its heritage.’
Purring discreetly the PM’s Jaguar turned off the motorway at Junction 6 and headed for Windsor. Then bypassing the town it sped towards Winkfield. After a mile or so they slowed, turning into a rather unpretentious avenue. Once through a line of trees the scene changed dramatically. The Army were everywhere and before them was a quite substantial mansion. The security check was brief and on they went to park in front of the ornate entrance. HMG was doing the Visitors proud, Toby Simpson thought, but he made no comment.
Toby watched as the PM was warmly greeted by the Visitors leader.
‘I watched your report to the House of Commons. You were very complimentary, Prime Minister.’
‘Deservedly so, Captain. Now may I introduce you to Mr Toby Simpson MP? He’s one of the lucky ones who have a safe seat. Have I caught you?’ Shaw smiled.
‘Not this time: I understand the term.’
‘Toby here has just been given special responsibility for your welfare and comfort. And I can assure you that he’ll ask you many questions. Though none will cross the borderline of indiscretion.’
‘I think by now tea will be ready. You were, of course, expected.’
Simpson was amazed at the urbanity. It was exactly as the PM described. His eyes though had a strangely placid quality. Indeed all the visitors shared this feature. Peace was a message not confined to words alone but was in their very being.
Once in the inner hall, the PM suggested a meeting with the Queen.
‘We would be greatly honoured,’ the Captain responded.
‘And a photograph perhaps, that would be given to the Press?’
‘We have no objections.’
*
The Manor at Winkfield was three stories high, with a small windowed pilot story at the top. It also had a basement, suitable mostly for storage. It was red brick, well matured with age, with a creeper scaling one of the corners. The garden was substantial but the walled enclosure had gone. Only the outer wall was left, against which a number of fruit trees were arranged. There were a number of stone built office buildings; the gardeners and maintenance personnel used these and there was also ample garage space. Yes, Toby thought, HMG had pushed the boat out.
Simpson had been allocated a small suite at the top of the house and there was an office for his secretary on the ground floor. Clearly it was a living in job, but what a job. Toby knew he had been amazingly fortunate, but as the saying went, it wouldn’t be all beer and skittles!
*
CHAPTER FIVE
Two days after the Prime Ministers first Commons report, a powerful article denouncing any proposal of ‘an outdated and dangerous land levy’ was published by a leading daily ‘heavy’. Shaw had expected it the following day, but maybe that was being too cynical. The author, a leading professor of economics was a frequent adviser to the Treasury and, as such, a frequent guest at the Chancellor’s table. The professor’s views would carry weight and they were correct, but only if a substantial measure of the tax were instantly applied. No one was advocating anything so draconian and this was where the article was so frustratingly irresponsible.
That evening when he’d discussed rent collection with the Captain over supper, he had been convinced of the efficacy of the measure. It was simply natural and beyond the realm of theory. The trouble was that the economy had become horrendously complicated and this had made application of the measure difficult. So the initial rental charge could only be a modest percentage.
The lead story in the papers was the environment. Here the door was being brutally slammed after years of neglect. In fact environment concern was a ready tool for the envious to condemn the meanest luxury as extravagance. Of course, the horse had bolted years ago. What was the cause? As usual, experts jousted with the lances of their contrary opinions. If fact he had received the best advise from his own son. ‘Dad, even if CO2 is not the main culprit, it would do no harm to cut it back, just in case!’ Shaw sighed. It was time for some Prime Ministerial statement, but what could he say other than the usual platitudes? Of course! The Visitors, maybe they had an angle! With luck, maybe Toby had already asked them. He would deal with that tomorrow. To day was constituency day when he’d promised to meet the people at his ‘Surgery’. He enjoyed that, but it didn’t happen often nowadays and anyway, security spoiled it all. Being PM made sure of that.
*
Toby Simpson had spoken to the Captain on the question of climate change, and his questions were answered without the least hesitation. These upended most of Toby’s fixed assumptions. But he remembered about the American Indians as a boy and how they viewed their land a sacred. The Captain took the same approach. Change would be a shallow thing and not take root until the Earth was viewed with due respect.
Normally Simpson would have considered such comments as naïve but coming from such a remarkable being he took them seriously. They had taken to having their conversations while strolling in the gardens, and during such times the Captain was forever admiring the amazing diversity of plants and insects.
‘You live on a very beautiful planet, Toby,’ the Captain had said. Simpson had suggested ‘Toby’ and the Captain had complied without a murmur. He, of course, was still ‘The Captain’. Finally, after being silent for some time, he added. ‘Reverence for Nature and the Earth are necessary. Without such reverence all your efforts will be weak and ineffectual for there’ll be no heart in them.’
Toby could think of nothing more to say. It was ridiculous. Here he was with the most remarkable being he had ever met and he couldn’t raise a question. Yet that busy creature in the mind would not give up. Round and round it went searching every alley. It was a fruitless, tedious exercise and at last he gave it up and let the beauty of the sunny day bring peace.
The Captain seemed to be absorbing his surroundings like a lover. Heavens, it was peaceful. What a difference from the frantic life that seemed to be his lot. Westminster was such a hot house with ‘eager beavers’ fighting for a foothold on the greasy pole. He was one of them, of course, one of the lucky ones – incredibly lucky having landed a safe seat and a Cabinet post before the age of thirty-three.
The peace was still there quietly fostering equanimity. At least ten minutes passed. Then a question came from nowhere, or so it seemed.
‘How can we foster a sense of the sacred?’
‘By praising the sacred,’ the Captain returned without hesitation.
‘I fear that I’d be laughed to scorn!’
‘Knowing when to speak is ‘half the battle’ – I think that illustrates my meaning – and always speak from stillness.’
Normally Toby would have taken such advise with the usual pinch of salt but things were different in the Captain’s company.
Simpson’s mobile rang. He had forgotten to switch it to silent mode.
‘Sorry, Captain.’ He said putting the tiny instrument to his ear.
‘Yes, Prime Minister. I’d be delighted, Sir. Good bye.’
‘The PM – wants me to dine with him this evening.’
*
Nearing Heath Row on the M4 Toby’s hands off car-phone rang. It was one of the PM’s secretaries.
‘Mr Simpson, the PM asks if you have a lady you would like to bring this evening?’
‘Kim, tell him that I’ll scan my address book!’
The secretary chuckled and the phone went dead.
Suddenly his neat organised world was shattered. His sister was always his ‘safe bet’ but she was never free on a Wednesday. And the others, nothing sparked. Then he remembered his sister’s friend the classics Phd. He pulled onto the hard shoulder and punched in his sister’s number after which he was off again.
‘Lizzie Simpson.’
‘Lizzie, I’m assuming you’re not free tonight.’
‘Toby, you assume correct’.
‘There’s a dinner at Number Ten and the PM has asked if I would like to bring a friend, which translated means: arrive with a partner! What about your friend with the Roman name?’
‘Drusilla! You’ll be lucky. They’re queuing up for her!’
‘Well sister, not every invitation is to dine at number ten.’
‘Brother, that may enable you to swing it!’
He pulled over and took Drusilla’s home and mobile numbers.
‘Well my lady with the Roman name: jacta aleia est The die is cast.’
He punched the number.
*
CHAPTER SIX
Drusilla Cavendish-Browne certainly had the name, but she also had the looks to match. What was more, her mind was needle sharp. Truth was, she frightened most men, especially those who felt they had to prove themselves. So, contrary to most opinion she received few invitations and those she did she often felt quite painful for there was little that they shared in common except the physical and that without sincere affection was, in plain terms, crude. Lizzie’s brother Toby though was different. His mind ranged wide and the political realities he described were fascinating. So when she received his phone call she made no secret of her satisfaction.
He was handsome in a plain sort of way and had the kind of crinkly hair that would be unaffected in a gale. He was going grey but Lizzie had told her that her father had been grey at thirty.
The sheer relief of finding a partner for the evening was Toby’s overriding emotion. But when he collected Drusilla at her flat he was stunned. What a beautiful and graceful person, he marvelled. And she was dressed so well without the least concession to the scanty coverings worn by the fashionable. But then Lizzie’s friends were mostly fairly civilized! He smiled. It was a good job the PC boys couldn’t scan his thoughts!
*
The PM was at his fatherly best when greeting them at Number Ten.
‘How graceful you look, my dear,’ he said gently patting Drusilla’s hand. ‘Toby, where did you find this beautiful lady?’
‘My sister’s friend, Prime Minister.’
‘You have a powerful ally in your sister, it would seem!’
For Drusilla, the rest of the introductions to Mrs Shaw, Sir James Huntington and his wife all seemed to swim together in friendly confusion.
Pleasantries and banter eased the moments prior to dinner, until unexpectedly the PM had a phone call. It had to be important, as he was not to be disturbed on such occasions.
‘He never gets a moment to himself!’ Mrs Shaw complained.
However, the PM was only briefly absent but he clearly was annoyed.
‘There’s been an attempt to breach the outer ring at Winkfield. The Press, of course, are sitting on the door step, so no doubt it will be all over the papers.’
‘Who are the culprits Sir?’
‘The Press, will tell us in the morning!’ Shaw returned cynically. ‘There’s more! Someone’s had a scan of the early editions and apparently one of the chattering class heavies has run a cover story on the cost of housing and protecting our outer space Visitors. Can you think of anything so petty, crass and downright mean? They are our guests for heavens sake!’
‘Don’t let them spoil our dinner, dear!’ Mrs Shaw said lightly.
Shaw laughed.
‘Now you know the secret of my so-called unflappable image.’
The PM laughed again.
Drusilla was amazed, but gratified, for this was Downing Street, the Prime Minister was host, yet it was all so human, so ordinary. The conversation, though, wasn’t ordinary and the PM’s asides were the stuff of history. Toby held centre stage from time to time when he described his dealings with the Visitors. They all had two fields of expertise so they could double up, as it were, in times of illness. Their second in command was the medical man, but the Captain was also qualified. It was all fascinating and it was first hand stuff. She was privileged and she knew it, but she also knew that she’d been checked out, as they said, for Toby had had to give Downing Street prior notice of her name and details.
‘Why did they choose Britain?’ She suddenly asked. Indeed it was her first question.
‘Over to you Toby.’ The PM responded.
‘Yes, I asked the same question a day or so ago. Apparently they started watching us about the time of Marlborough, and I know they visited our island during the time of the Elder Pitt. Again they were present when the secret ballot was introduced, that is 1870, if my memory’s right. The First World War greatly saddened them, for I think they’d become rather attached to our story. They admire greatly our constitutional monarchy, but feel we don’t appreciate the fortune we possess.’
Toby paused and looked round the table.
‘They don’t criticize, they don’t make suggestions, but when we ask questions they answer and they give advise. Now I really haven’t answered Drusilla’s question. Why are they not in America, or Russia, or the East for that matter? This was the nature of the question that I put. The Captain said we were a tolerant country and for many years a sanctuary of freedom. We were a lawful people and the level of corruption was still low. But we must be vigilant. We must not let our freedoms be corrupted by licence, and in our tolerance we must not give a home to arrogant intolerance. Here he was very strong indeed. We must defend our freedoms from the tyranny of equality groups and PC lobbies which often have the backing of the law.’
Again he paused but no one interrupted him.
‘The US, Russia, China, India and the Islamic world they view as definite interest groups whereas we, despite our links with Europe, retain a certain independence. In their opinion we are in some ways friends to all. So they see their stay on British soil as being neutral.’
‘An interesting analysis, but I fear it would be judged a rather rosy picture: certainly by our friends across the channel who see us as a US poodle,’ the PM said smiling wryly.
‘Prime Minister, I think we can expect requests from various governments for an audience with the Visitors,’ the Foreign Secretary ventured.
‘I sense a security nightmare and that would spoil the sweet. We’re having a good old English pudding, you’ll be pleased to hear.’
*
Mrs Shaw knew the signs. Her husband wanted some time with the men. So after the sweet she engineered a ‘Cook’s Tour’ as she called it, which introduced Drusilla to the Downing Street warren: her pet name for the public rooms.
Once alone with the men the PM listed his concerns.
‘I’m pestered by the scientists demanding access to the Visitors. Those on the MOD pay role are the most persistent. The technical wizardry that the Visitors have would give our forces a massive advantage. This they stress repeatedly. Even the Defence Secretary is playing their tune. Have they never heard of the arms race? And if we had an advantage how long do they think we’d keep it? Sometimes I think the human race should be anaesthetized!’
Toby Simpson just managed to keep a straight face.
‘Sir, I think the Visitors are well able to look after themselves.’
‘That’s my hope too, but you’d better confirm it and also warn them of the dangers. Where’s their space craft?’
Toby pointed upwards.
‘It’s quietly orbiting. They can land it anytime they want. To them it’s train set stuff!’
The PM nodded, looking across at the Foreign Secretary.
‘What do you think, Jim?’
‘Well, PM, I hate to say it, but I hope their stay is short!’
‘Why, Jim?’
‘I don’t fear them. The human lust for power is what I fear. The prize is glittering and there’ll be many overwhelmed by desire. I would substantially upgrade security.’
‘Toby,’ the PM prompted, expecting a response.
‘I’ll speak to the Captain. I think it best to tell him of our fears.’
‘Agreed,’ Shaw replied briefly.
Just then the phone rang.
‘That’ll be Winkfield, I suspect,’ Shaw said picking up the phone.
‘Yes put him on…Thanks for getting back Brigadier…you disarmed him…I see, they did…remarkable…yes I agree, quite remarkable…Tell the press that Mr Simpson will make a statement in the morning and thanks again for keeping me informed. Sorry Toby!’ The PM smiled knowingly as he replaced the phone. ‘Apparently some nutter, recently resident at one of Her Majesty’s prisons, slipped through the Army’s ring of guards but was immobilised by one of the Visitors. Apparently the nutter aimed to purge the world of the alien devils! Alas, not unfamiliar rhetoric.’
‘PM, tomorrow I have a list of ambassadors to see. The dignity and prestige of the major nations demand access, and all want to be first!’
‘Well the US should be first and Russia next after that the FO can do their diplomatic best. They’re rather good at that.’
‘The anti-US lobby wont like that!’
‘That is boringly predictable. Jim, just make it clear that nobody dictates except the wishes of the Visitors and those of HMG. And, Jim, you really ought to visit Winkfield, indeed tomorrow if you can.’
‘It would need to be very early!’
‘The Captain’s always out and about well before six: there would be no problem. Oh, Prime Minister, would it be appropriate for Drusilla and my sister to meet the Captain? Their views would be interesting and of course, they wouldn’t be running to the Press!’
‘An excellent idea! Ladies can be very perceptive. Now gentlemen we have a busy day tomorrow so after tea and coffee we ought to shut the shop. I can hear my wife, which means the ladies are returning right on cue. My wife is rather good at these diplomatic interludes!’ He chuckled lightly.
*
CHAPTER SEVEN
It was late spring and the Winkfield morning air was fresh. The sky was cloudless and the Sun was warm. The weather was perfect.
‘What a beautiful morning Captain,’ Simpson called out when the leader of the Visitors drew close.
‘Wonderful Toby! I’ve just walked round the grounds and I must reiterate my thanks to your government. This is a most delightful setting.’
Even after two days of close contact, Toby found the Visitor’s fluency amazing. Sir James though, was flabbergasted!
‘Captain, meet Sir James Huntington, our Foreign Secretary.’
The handshakes were firm and warm.
‘The staff have prepared some refreshments. They’ll expect us to appear, so we had best go inside.’ The Visitor’s leader smiled in an urbane knowing way. Huntington could hardly believe it.
After refreshments they got down to business but for the Visitor there was no change in the mode of his behaviour. Huntington was fascinated. The Visitor was behaving in the manner of a Himalayan Guru who never seemed to be without a certain sense of presence. He had read about such beings often but here was evidence before his eyes.
‘Sir, have you read much concerning the sages of that populous country India?’
‘You question well, Sir James, for their wisdom is profound.’
‘Would you be interested if I sent some of my book collection?’
‘Most interested!’
‘I’m sorry to change the subject but there are certain practical matters concerning those who are clamouring to see you. Later today I shall be meeting the United States Ambassador followed closely by the Russian and then the Chinese and Japanese Ambassadors. All want to see you Sir, and all believe they should be first or at least amongst the first! The question is, do you want to see them and if so, how many in one day?’
‘If they want to see me, I will meet them. The rest I leave to you.’
‘The Prime Minister I know is anxious that you should not in any way be treated as a fairground curiosity!’
The Captain glanced at Simpson.
‘That’s another one!’ Toby chuckled. ‘The PM means a circus attraction, Sir.’
The Visitor laughed.
‘The Prime Minister’s concern is much appreciated, but we will leave the matter entirely to you.’
‘You may receive rather pressing invitations, Captain,’ Huntington emphasised.
‘I understand, Sir James. However, with your permission we would prefer to remain in this idyllic setting. By visiting one we would need to visit the other and so on. By staying ‘put’, as you would say, we will avoid too pointed an offence. You have a phrase for it: damage limitation!’
Toby Simpson burst out laughing and Huntington was quick to follow.
‘Captain, we’re looking for skills like yours at the Foreign Office!’ Sir James reacted and they laughed again.
‘I feel the Captain would find it rather far to commute to the office!’ Toby interjected.
Laughter again erupted.
‘Sir, your skills are awesome and yesterday you amply demonstrated this when you immobilised the deranged intruder.’ Toby looked straight at the Visitor before continuing. ‘Yet we must be cautious for there may be forces willing to sacrifice many lives to gain some access to your knowledge. Kidnap cannot be dismissed! I’m afraid the Army presence will be much more obvious as we’re increasing numbers.’
‘We have the ability to detect negative forces even at a distance. This is useful but we would be foolish to claim invulnerability.’
‘That’s another job for you, Captain: security at Windsor!’ Sir James quipped.
‘On Her Majesty’s staff: that would be an honour!’ The Visitor smiled broadly. ‘Sir James, if I apply your well known law of supply and demand, I should be pressing for a rise in salary!’
With the humour there arose a genuine affection, indeed a tangible unity.
‘Captain, how do you view the institution of the Monarchy?’ Toby questioned. ‘It’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you for some time.’
‘With great respect, for the Monarchy stands for the unchanging, and just as the universal Spirit cares for all so the Monarch loves and cares for all the subjects of the realm. The role of Monarch is a service and being sovereign, personal aggrandisement is irrelevant.’
‘I agree, Captain, but many would say that the Monarchy is hopelessly out of date and what’s more undemocratic. Again, the spiritual dimension would be treated with derision.’
‘To ignore the spiritual is to ignore the wellspring of our very being. Such an attitude is unfortunate. Your fair-minded belief in democracy is commendable but democracy on its own leads to confusion and a kind of anarchy.
‘The Monarchy, the judiciary, and the spiritual leaders should be seen as the protectors of the people. This is the true function of aristocracy. The rich are merely rich, but when they use their riches in the service of the state, then perhaps, they could be named aristocrats!’ The Captain’s smile was almost mischievous.
‘This conversation is so rich that I’m most reluctant to depart but duty calls for I cannot keep the Ambassadors waiting. I will send those books of the Indian sages as promised.’
*
Simpson and the Captain walked with Huntington to his car and then proceed round the grounds.
‘Captain, the media are strident in their accusations of a cover up. The Government, they say, are working closely with the Aliens but to what purpose? Nobody knows they say. However ‘sources close to the government’ are quoted daily. Who dreams up this fiction is a wonder. Again foreign governments maintain that we, the Brits, have cornered the knowledge for ourselves and because of this the diplomatic knives are out. We thought we had laid all this to rest but we were naïve. For it’s much too big a story. Every newspaper on the planet has it on their leader page. Have you any suggestions?’
‘Toby, it is understandable that the nations are sceptical. They will find it difficult to believe that the technical knowledge needed for our journey and defence has not been acquired, at least in part, by you. We ourselves were surprised that you made no overtures. But of, course, we are forbidden to give away such secrets because of their military use potential.
‘Your press is full of speculation on the manner of our travel and arms technology, but your honourable Prime Minister made no mention of it, none at all!’
‘He has no wish to initiate an arms race, for that is what he feels would happen. Anyway, he didn’t think you would be foolish enough to pass your knowledge over,’ Toby explained.
‘And he is right; even so he has resisted obvious temptations for we are lodgers, as you say, and are imposing on your hospitality. Some gift or token in acknowledgement of your kindness is properly due.’
‘I’m sure the PM would accept a box of chocolates!’
The Captain exploded with laughter.
‘Humour is so honest and refreshing. Toby, perhaps it’s time for another TV appearance. Maybe I can explain myself better and calm this endless speculation.’
‘It might take the kettle off the boil, but I fear that speculation will continue.’
‘"Kettle off the boil?" – yes, I get it! Very good.’
*
