Devil Gate Dawn

Chapters One

GEORGE STIRRED THE mud-coloured liquid in his stained Best Dad mug and winced as he sipped a hot mouthful. He propped his tablet up against a cereal box, between two pale shafts of sunlight on the kitchen table, tapped on the news icon and selected the sports section from the drop-down menu. Although one month on, the country was still recovering from the effects of an emotional rollercoaster ride, having finally reached footballs summit - a World Cup Final - after 60 years of trying, only to lose to a lively Columbia. His son, Derrick, wandered in and looked over his shoulder.

"'Irons Follows Alli to Madrid'," Derrick read aloud, and sniggered. "Our two best players have cashed in on a World Cup final appearance and gone to play in Spain."

"Yeah," George muttered as he picked up the tablet, "after Dele Alli scored in the final, he could write his own paycheck. Good luck to them, I say. The weather's better there, and this country's going down the pan. 'Tin Pan Alli' might be a better headline."

Derrick picked up on a common thread between them, "Your mug's always half empty, Dad. It's 2026, not 1926. See the positives – we're ranked second best in the world at football for starters."

George scanned through the e-paper for other news. Speculation concerning the new interim government headed by King Charles III dominated, whilst the cost of living crisis that had ultimately brought down the Conservative and UKIP coalition was relegated to page three. Ignoring his toothache he took another muddy, reflective sip: Uncertainty in the country, and I'm facing a major life-changing moment. A more positive news item caught his attention. Britain had survived nearly eight years of being out of the European Union remarkably well, with little change in terms of economic activity. George swiped past a picture of the grinning elderly monarch and settled on an alarmist report from the charity Oxfam.

"Here, listen to this!" he shouted at the back of his retreating son. "It says here that the richest one percent of the population is now worth more than the remaining ninety-nine percent put together. Wealth is now more polarised than ever before between a tiny super-rich elite and everyone else." Derrick shrugged and disappeared to his room. George was left to ruminate on the unfairness of life, and the unnerving atmosphere of disillusionment and uncertainty that hung over the country, like a dust sheet draped over an ancient sofa in a departed relative's lounge.

It was a warm, sunny day on the Runnymede council estate in the village of Langley in East Berkshire. George had lived in the area all his life, and had witnessed the slow urban creep emanating outwards from London, swallowing up villages in its path to provide housing for a seemingly endless growing population. The area demographics had changed significantly since the 1990s and many disenchanted residents had voted on diversity with their feet.

Things had now changed, alarmingly so, following a turnout of less than 10% in the recent General Election. This had triggered a constitutional crisis, resulting in the Lord Chief Justice annulling the result as unrepresentative of the will of the people, and calling upon the head of state, King Charles III, to form an interim government of national unity to guide the country towards a new form of democratic representation. The country was now in limbo – waiting anxiously to see what the aging quixotic monarch would come up with.

George turned on a radio podcast on his tablet before buttering his toast.

"...Look, there's little hope for change," a studio guest said, "King Charles is one of the biggest and wealthiest landowners in the country, and would surely protect the interests of the ruling classes."

"Let me bring in our other guest, Mark Davies, from the charity, Shelter."

"Thank you, Peter. I disagree, and feel that he'll grasp his new-found power with the verve and imagination for which he's known, and go about reshaping the country in a positive and dynamic way, championing inclusive politics that actually take account of the needs and opinions of the people." There was a guffaw of laughter from his opponent, who came back with a mocking, "We are reduced to relying on the whims of a septuagenarian king who has lived most of his life in the shadow of his illustrious mother. We now have direct rule by a monarch without any parliament to keep him in check..."