Bill, also in dressing-gown and slippers, stood nearby watching. Colin frowned at his handiwork then muttered, “Yes I do. Why aren’t you sleeping?”
“Nobody can sleep every night of the year.”
“I suppose not.”
“This is the first time you’ve touched Glonda since we added the balloons.”
“Yes, I’ve had other things on my mind. Please go back to bed.”
“That tower will collapse if an enemy as much as whistles at it.”
Springing up from the sofa Colin screamed, “Leave me alone! Get to bed will you?”
Bill’s pale face grew slightly paler but his expression did not change. Without moving he said, “I worry too when she’s out all night.”
Colin stared at him. Bill said, “I know it’s depressing but one develops a certain tolerance.”
“Have some tea Bill,” said Colin. He filled his empty mug and handed it over. They sat side by side, the boy sipping and watching while the man deftly completed his tower, carried it to the table and fixed it in place.
“Our war plans have been languishing for some time,” said Bill.
“Yes, I really have had a lot on my mind.”
“Well is there any point in waiting for the fifth of November? That’s what I want to know.”
Colin folded his arms, considered Glonda then said quietly, “You’re right. There’s no point in waiting. We’ll destroy it now.”
“We? Aren’t you going to defend it?”
“Not me,” said Colin pacing round the walls. “This is an evil city which has grown great by conquering weaker people outside. But now she has sunk into decadence and corruption. Her defences are neglected. Her balloons are out of gas. This is our opportunity.”
“Who are we?”
“Brilliant but neglected scientists who belong to the exploited outsiders. Carefully, in the secrecy of an abandoned coalmine, we have invented and constructed two aeroplanes. Take this one.”
A recently assembled model Messerschmitt lay beside the Spitfire on the bookcase. Bill took the Messerschmitt grumbling, “There’s no oil on this planet.”
“None, but the engines of these planes are fuelled by alcohol — distilled spirit — a discovery which only a genius like you, Herr Professor Bill Belfrage, could possibly have hit upon.”
“I think someone ought to defend the city,” said Bill though Colin’s purposeful manner had begun to excite him.
“Our planes can carry only one bomb at a time,” said Colin taking books from the shelves and carrying them to a corner, “and since we have only managed to make six of them each bomb must be made to do the maximum damage. We must circle the entire city while picking our target and choose it carefully. I will strike from the north …” (Colin laid down three books with the Spitfire on top then strode to the diagonally opposite corner) “… you will strike from the south.”
“Are three bombs each enough?”
“Your three will be enough. I am giving you Plato, Rousseau, and the most potent explosive known to mankind — Hoffman and MacKinlay’s Outline of Educational Theory. Down on your knees man! Remain in hiding until you receive my signal.”
Bill, trembling with excitement, knelt in the corner with book in one hand and Messerschmitt in the other. Colin went to the window, pulled back the curtains and looked out. In dark-grey light the tiny garden was still indistinct. He looked at his watch and sighed
then turned to the room and said quietly, “Twenty past six. Dawn has not yet broken over the doomed city’s final day as, weakened by a night of debauchery, she writhes in uneasy slumber. But from beyond the horizon (get ready for your first flight Bill) from beyond the southern horizon there slowly rises —”
“Let’s have music like in the pictures!” shouted Bill.
“Good idea,” said Colin. He went to the radiogram and looked along a stand of records murmuring, “Holst’s Planets Suite? Trite. Wagner? Equally trite. Why should destruction be sombre and strenuous? It is building and keeping things up which is strenuous. Destruction should be gay, don’t you agree Bill? All things built get knocked down again and those who knock them down are gay.”
“Hurry up with it!”
Colin fitted a disc onto the turntable, set it turning and after a couple of trials held the end of the arm above the groove he wanted. He said, “I’ll provide the commentary. Don’t drop your first bomb before the music starts, then I’ll drop the next bomb. Where was I?”
“The debauchery bit.”
“Weakened by debauchery Glonda writhes in uneasy slumber until gradually, from beyond the southern horizon, there slowly rises, very slowly Bill, the hitherto undreamed of shape of a deadly aircraft, the first this planet has ever seen! Warily it approaches the fortress city and circles her titanic battlements. A few sleepy sentries observe with wonder as she carefully selects her target. Have you done that? —”
“Yes —”
“BLITZKRIEG!”
Colin lowered the needle into Handel’s Hallelujah Chorus. Bill, stalking round the big table on tiptoe holding his plane as high as possible, threw with the other hand a book which rebounded harmlessly from the central tower. Colin rushed to the other corner, lifted a volume with both hands and hurled it with an accuracy which brought down the central tower and several others.
“You aren’t using your plane!” screamed Bill.
“In this phase of warfare all rules are abandoned!” cried Colin shying two more books which destroyed great sections of wall and burst some balloons.
“Then I’m getting more bombs!” screamed Bill, hurling the remaining two and rushing to the shelves. “Throw them spine first you idiot!” roared Colin.
“I’m NOT an idiot! You’re the idiot!” screamed Bill. Taking a heavy atlas he walked round the table, deliberately using the spine to hammer down anything that stood up. He was sobbing breathlessly, Colin thought from exertion, until Bill dropped the atlas, sat down, hid face in hands and wept. Colin realized Bill was sorry Glonda had been destroyed. He switched the record off and went to him across a carpet scattered with blue, yellow and white wreckage.
“Sorry Bill,” he said, sighing and patting the boy’s shoulder, “sorry about that.”
Bill became as silent as if he too had been switched off. Mavis was in the room.
She stood with hand on hip, the other gripping the strap of her shoulder bag, on her face the look of a disapproving schoolmistress. She said, “What are you two crazy infants playing at?”
“War games,” said Colin.
“I’m not surprised at anything you do Colin but I thought Bill had some self-control.”
“I couldn’t sleep either,” said Bill.
“Hm! And now I suppose you both expect me to make a great big breakfast. All right. I will.”
She went to the kitchen.
“She’s not angry with us,” Bill assured Colin in a whisper before following her. After a while Colin followed too.
13
The males sat side by side at the kitchen table while Mavis made omelettes. Bill said, “Will you build another city to knock down?”
“No. It takes too long.”
“What will we do now?”
“I’ll have to think about that.”
“Do you know what our trouble is Colin Kerr?” said Mavis. “We don’t have enough fun together.”
“I’m bad at fun.”
“Well I’m going to teach you to be good at it. We’re going to have a party.”
“What a great idea!” shouted Bill. She said, “Don’t fool yourself Bill Belfrage. This party will only start when you are tucked up in bed.”