leak, which had, in fact, been proved as the cause. But the point was it was the construction itself that had made a minor disaster into a major one. And the construction had been a cheaper means of building–a cheaper way of cramming thirty or forty families into the smallest square footage possible. This is what embittered Harris.
The incompetence of ‘authority’.
Then he had to smile at himself. He was still a student at heart, a rebel against the powers that be. As a teacher, he was directly under the control of a government body and was often exasperated by
‘committee’ decisions, but he knew there were fair-minded men and women who really did care amongst the committee members, who fought hard to get the right decisions. He’d heard many stories of individuals who had fought the government ban on free milk for kids, for instance. Of men and women, including teachers, who had all but lost thin: jobs because of their opposition.
No, it was no good becoming over-wrought with authority, for he knew too well that apathy existed on all levels. The gasman who neglected to fix a leaky pipe. The mechanic who failed to tighten a screw. The driver who drove at fifty miles an hour in the fog. The milkman who left one pint instead of two. It was a matter of degree. Wasn’t that what Original Sin was supposed to be all about? We’re all to blame. He fell asleep.
At a quarter-past-six, he was awakened by the front door being slammed and footsteps racing up the stairs.
‘Hello, Jude,’ he said as she bustled in, red-faced and breathless.
‘Hello, lazy.’ She kissed his nose. ‘Have you seen the paper yet?’ She unfolded a Standard and showed him the headlines proclaiming more killings by rats.
‘Yes, I know. I was there.’ He told her of the day’s events, his voice hard, emotionless.
‘Oh, love, it’s horrible. Those poor people. And you. It must have been terrible for you.’ She touched his cheek, knowing his anger covered up deeper feelings.
‘I’m just sick of it, Jude. For people to die senselessly like that in this day and age. It’s crazy.’
‘All right, darling. They’ll soon put a stop to it. It’s not like the old days, when things like this got out of hand.’
‘That’s not the point though. It should never have happened in the first place.’
Suddenly Harris relaxed, his natural defence when ,events became too much to take. He reached a certain point, and knowing there was nothing he could do about the situation, his mind walked away from it.
He smiled at Judy. ‘Let’s get away from it at the weekend, eh? Let’s go and see your silly old aunt at Walton. The fresh air will do us both good.’
‘Okay,’ Judy’s arms encircled his neck and she squeezed it hard.
‘What’s for dinner?’ he asked.
The rest of the week, as far as the rats were concerned, was quiet. There had been a public outcry, the usual campaigns from the press to clean up London. Angry debates on television by politicians and councillors, and even a statement from the Prime Minister. Large areas of dockland were sealed off and rat-exterminators sent in. The dockers themselves came out on strike for two days until they had been convinced that no trace of rats could be found. Canals leading to the docks were searched by police and soldiers, but nothing larger than the usual rodents were found, and not many of these either. Reports of large, black rats being seen came in regularly, but on investigation it usually turned out to be a dog or cat.
Children were escorted to and from schools by parents if any quiet street were on the journey.
Bomb-sites and playgrounds became unusually still. Pet shops all over London did a booming trade in cats and dogs. Poisons were laid by the experts, but the victims were always mice or the usual smaller rat.
Not one large, black rat was found.
People soon began to lose interest, as other news hit the headlines. Stories of rape, robbery, and arson, political and