Flight of the Gazebo

Chapter 10 - Discovery

John and Dora Banks sat together at a small table in the Royal Oak, an old timber-framed pub across the road from the doctor's surgery. The gloom of the pub's interior of green flock wallpaper, maroon carpets and dark wooden tables and chairs was banished to the corners of the room by the light that found its way past the yellowed net curtains covering the paned windows.

After the meeting in the village hall, several of the villagers had retired to the three pubs scattered throughout the village. Tom, the publican of the Royal Oak, had been apologetic when he poured their drinks.

"Sorry, John. I know it's not what you ordered, but half a pint is all I can do." He avoided John's eye as he wiped the bar-top with a damp, grey rag. "We're on rations now, you know."

"What about Dora's wine? You've given her a whole glass," said John.

"You can't go giving someone half a glass of wine now, can you? said Tom. "It just isn't done. Never served half a glass of wine in my life. That'll be ten pounds, please."

"Ten pounds? What, for half a pint of ale and a glass of house wine?"

"Supply and demand. And prices will go up as the stock reduces."

The debate in the village hall about payment for goods had taken up most of the meeting, with the shopkeepers and several home owners with well-stocked pantries indignant they were being asked to hand over their stock without being paid for it. John tried to point out that circumstances had changed: it was an emergency, a crisis, and they couldn't expect the economics of the village to carry on as they had. It just wasn't reasonable. Their survival depended on everyone helping one another out. Sharing everything equally for the common good made the most sense and, until they got back to Earth, he firmly believed it was the only way they could have a workable system.

The debate had become heated with a sharp division into two camps: a group who sided with him and a larger group who didn't and who hurled angry accusations of "communist" and "socialist" at him. Before the arguments got out of hand he had proposed they vote someone in to the position of quartermaster and then let that person decide. The villagers had responded by voting in Jeremy Wainscott, a millionaire stockbroker.

Wainscott had decreed the villagers all keep their own supplies and continue using money as they had before. It was, he said, the most natural way to conduct themselves and no left-wingers should be allowed to bully the good folk of the village into losing the benefits of their hard-earned cash.

The voting for the other positions has been just as difficult, with most people voting in a way they hoped would benefit their own interests. They had voted for John to lead the expedition to find water and explore their new, alien surroundings.

John sighed and counted out the coins to pay for their drinks into Tom's waiting hand, then carried the glasses back to the table next to the window where Dora sat waiting.

"We'll have to be careful with our cash. I've only got about eighteen pounds left," said John as he sat down.

"Luckily, I drew out fifty yesterday morning," said Dora. "It won't last long at this rate though."

"And it doesn't look like we'll be getting any more either. There was a queue of angry people at the bank after the meeting. Apparently the bank's refusing to let anyone withdraw cash. They said their computer was down and they weren't able to process any transactions."

Dora sighed. "How can people be so shortsighted? The shops aren't letting anyone pay by card because their tills aren't working, so they're insisting on cash. People are rushing in to get supplies before they run out and getting turned away because they don't have enough cash."