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thinks of him.
    They thread round the piles of goods on the beach to gain the road. Walking down towards the lone figure of Dave standing like a sentinel with his legs planted and his rifle held ready but lowered.
    ‘Morning, Dave,’ Joan says, her tone as blunt as ever.
    ‘Morning,’ Dave says, his tone as blunt as ever.
    ‘Are they up yet?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Good. We’ll take over watching. You can go and eat. Tell Lilly everything is fine in the fort. Billy slept soundly. The children are all fine and the rest will be over once they’ve finished eating.’
    ‘Dave,’ Maddox nods respectfully once Joan finishes issuing her instructions.
    ‘Maddox. You will not come into the house.’
    Maddox holds still, his face impassive while he thinks quickly. ‘I’ll wait,’ he says.
    ‘You will wait outside. You will not provoke my team. You will not speak to Mohammed. Do you understand?’
    ‘I understand, Dave.’
    ‘You will address Mr Howie as Mr Howie. If you pose any threat or risk to my team I will kill you. Do you understand?’
    ‘I understand.’
    ‘If you point your weapon towards any members of my team I will kill you. If you show anger towards any member of my team I will kill you. I am only not killing you now because Mr Howie has not told me to kill you. If Mr Howie tells me to kill you I will kill you.’
    ‘Fuck me,’ Sam mouths, wincing at the dull tones that sounds so much worse for the absolute certainty projected within the words.
    ‘Good stuff,’ Joan says, nodding at Dave. ‘I like a man who speaks straight. Needed to be said. Chest straps,’ she says, holding a bag out for Dave.
    Dave nods, takes the bag and starts walking towards the house.
    ‘Kyle has bread,’ Joan says after him.
    ‘Kyle is trusted. He can come into the house.’
    Joan looks at Kyle sharply, raising yet another eyebrow as he smiles back, toothy and full of mischief.
    ‘Will you look at that now,’ he chuckles, following Dave.
    ‘Irish,’ Joan says.
    ‘Maybe I am…or maybe not…’
    ‘Irish,’ Joan says, watching the old man enter the house and go straight into the lounge then switching her gaze to look at Sam and Pea. ‘Stop that grinning right now.’
    ‘Such a flirt,’ Sam says.
    ‘Flirting? Women my age do not flirt. We converse.’
    ‘That was flirting,’ Sam says, pointing at the front door.
    Joan tuts, huffs and stands stiff. ‘It was no such thing.’
    ‘Someone coming already,’ Maddox says, staring up the road as three women move out to see a white van coming towards them. ‘I’ll take this one. You get coffee and…’
    ‘You are not in charge here, Maddox,’ Joan cuts across him, her tone biting in delivery as she strides out to motion at the driver, telling him where to stop. Maddox hides the flinch at the sharpness of her tongue and walks across the road. It will take time to win them over again. He knows that.
    The white Ford Transit stops next to Joan who takes in the adult male driving and the adult female in the front passenger seat. A sliding door on the side. Pea and Sam hold their rifles as taught by Joan, ready but lowered. Maddox stands back, his rifle also held ready and lowered as he fixes his eyes on the sliding door.
    ‘Welcome,’ Joan says in that curt tone. ‘How many of you?’
    ‘Er…’ the woman hesitates, looking at the man. ‘Was it six we picked up?’
    ‘Six,’ the man says with a nod.
    ‘So six…seven eight…nine…ten…ten of us,’ the woman says, nodding at Joan. ‘The rest are in the back…’
    ‘Obviously,’ Joan says, pulling the sliding door back to look inside. She counts the people, reaching ten and nodding once. ‘We’ll need to check you all. Out you get…’
    ‘Is that the fort?’ The woman asks.
    ‘It is,’ Joan says, leaning into the van to take in the six exhausted filthy looking children. Three white kids, three Indian kids. ‘Your children?’ Joan asks.
    ‘God no, we found them,’ a woman in the back of the van