O why the deuce should I repine,

And be an ill foreboder?

I'm twenty-three, and five foot nine,

I'll go and be a sodger!

Robert Burns

CHAPTER 14 ABBEY WOOD

John Gilchrist opened the garage door and hoped his MG would start. He’d spent all weekend cleaning the damn thing, charging the battery, then buying another battery. Striping down the twin SU’s because the pistons had stuck in the barrels. Then finally he’d fired the MG midget into action and the throttle jammed open because of corrosion in the accelerator cable. So he’d removed the Bowden cable, hung it from a nail in the garage roof and dribbled gear oil down it, running the outer up and down over the inner till it was free. Then he'd again fired up the little “A” series Morris Minor motor and gone roaring up the valley. Yes he would take it to work. Except yesterday it was raining.

But this morning sunlight streamed through branches, and new leaves were waving shadows across the drive.

John squeezed into the little car, got his thighs under the steering wheel, legs straight out in front on the pedals.

He pulled the choke out, then thought that might flood it, and pushed it in. He made sure it was in neutral and turned the key. The SU fuel pump clicked away and slowed down as the two float chambers filled. He turned the key right over, slowly pushing the accelerator down as he did so.

It coughed. His foot was on the floor. Was it flooded? Or should he pull the choke out?

Then it started. “Heyyyy. You beauty.”

He put it in reverse and backed out next to the more serious cars he and his wife usually drove. Dare he risk switching it off? Yes, he had to with the price of petrol these days.

“Can I have a drive Dad?” said Jennie.

“No, your too…..” John turned to look at his little girl. He was going to say she was too small. Except she wasn’t. At this height he was looking at her straight in the hips. Even in school clothes she had a figure. “No. You’re not old enough to have a licence.” He started trying to get out of the car. He’d seen old men role out onto the ground on all fours, but he wasn’t going to do that.

“I ought to practice before then. I could just drive round the garden.”

“Well, I suppose so.” He was up. Now he was taller than her, she’d gone back to being his little girl again. Except her classmates and friends were so damned pretty, and so was she. He had to admit it.

“Good. When?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe this evening.” When John was at school he'd lusted after girls her age. There would be lads lusting after Jennie now.

“Great. Mum says you haven’t had your breakfast yet.”

So how could he protect her from dirty minded little shits like he had been?

There was supposed to be reserved visitors parking at Abbey Wood, but you still had to get in early. Major James Moriarty left his rented house on West Street, Warminster early. Then drove round Bath on the A36, past Solsbury Hill, to the M4, before the morning rush. He left the M4 at junction 9, onto the M32 in growing traffic. At the first junction he turned onto the 4 lane ring road, through factories and offices, past the University of WOE¹, then onto a shorter 4 lane under a footbridge over the artificial lake. An electric sign said the car park on the left was full, as was the visitors one behind the nursery school. But not the top car park. He showed his ID, got his photo taken, and drove round and round for a space.

There was a covered walkway across the car park into one of the big glass atriums (Atria?) that seemed to be all over Abbey Wood, coffee bars and little tables looked down on by indoor office windows and access. He knew the way across the open ground floors and along the sunlit garden paths to Oak.

“Bye love,” said Maggie Gilchrist. “Don’t forget your driving Jennie into Salisbury this evening.”

“Oh? Why?”

“I’ve told you. She is

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