Police Don’t Stand so Close to Me
(continued from Let Her Stay (pt5/8))
He roared out his defiance. Ah, such a beautiful man.
The blood from his cheek ran down his neck and began to soak into his best white shirt. No more scrubbing that collar, trying to take out the grey from their daily grind. Red and white. England the Brave!
She was overcome with that sheer delight you find when a period of worry comes to an end and events are unfolding exactly as you envisioned them. When all you have to do is watch the screen as the movie you recorded is played out before you.
She’d been taken to see a ballet as a child. It has been a magical experience. She was enthralled once again, today, by the feats of strength, agility and grace she saw before her now. The way her husband moved. How he dodged and mocked the blue uniforms that buzzed around him like wasps on honey.
They were a danger, but he spurned his advantage.
As he stabbed the blade down into the earth, she gave an affirming nod. As he stepped aside from it, towards the spectators gathering – they too drawn to the honey of his performance, she allowed a slight smile to gather the corners of her eyes. As he clenched his fist and shouted a challenge to all comers, her heart swelled again.
She knew that adrenalin would be ripping through his body now. His bursts of speed as he dodged and ran inside the closing circle of watchers lent him the look of a circus act – part clown, part athlete – all man.
Despite the bulk inside his clothing, carefully strapped and hidden, he vaulted over one man, ran around another, and still had the energy to bawl out their message. Loud and strong.
“Give Scotland back to the English!”
By now the drone mounted cameras were following his every move. Some unknown controller had diverted them away from the wedding, which was truly on a break, to the far more entertaining spectacle here.
But, like all good things, it couldn’t last forever.
One misjudged turn and they almost had him. He wrenched his arm free, but he was thrown off-balance, his momentum lost – a Transformer with batteries fading, dying.
An arm lashed out and a club caught him on the shoulder, then another on his leg. He stumbled. Caught himself and almost got free. But by now there was nowhere to go. The mass of blue-clad bodies was too much.
Clinging on to his limbs, they brought him down. An antelope under the weight of a lion. Proud freedom taken down by feral beast.
As the blows rained down on his body, still struggling, still bellowing out defiantly, she roused herself. The crowd gathered to watch this unequal struggle had swelled as more and more people had entered the park. The Chinese party were keeping off to one side, seemingly not willing to let this sully their celebrations. Good for them.
But the rest of them – they were just standing, just watching as if this was some kind of blood-sport.
Perhaps that’s all it was to them.
Not one of them raised a hand to help this man. Not-one called out for the brutality to stop.
But it was now time to call a halt.
As she stepped out from the museum and began to walk towards the crowd, she whispered a name.
“Sarah, we’re coming, my dear. We’re coming.”
(continues in Let Her Stay (pt7/8))