بمب

chapter one

Bomb

‘Look!’ Jane Cole said. ‘Here she comes now!’

The two Americans looked along the street. There were crowds of people everywhere. In the middle of the road, soldiers were riding towards them on horseback. Behind them came a golden coach, pulled by six black horses.

‘That’s my father, ‘Jane said. ‘He’s the coachman - the man driving the horses.’

The American woman said, ‘Fantastic! Your father’s driving the Queen! Quick, Harry, use the video camera!’

‘I am using it!’ her husband said. ‘But she’s too far away. Can’t we get a little nearer, Jane?’

‘We can try,’ Jane said. ‘Follow me!’ She took them nearer to the entrance to Parliament. ‘This is where the coach will stop and the Queen will get out. Then she’ll go upstairs to open Parliament for this year.’

‘Didn’t someone put a bomb under your Parliament once?’ the American man asked. ‘I read about that at school. Guy. something?’

‘Guy Fawkes,’ Jane said. ‘In 1605. He tried to blow up Parliament, that’s right. But don’t worry. There’s no Guy Fawkes here today.’

She smiled at the Americans. She was a student, and this was her part-time job - to show tourists round London. She felt proud to show them her father, driving the Queen on a wonderful day like this.

Then the Queen’s coach came past in front of them, the golden roof bright in the sunlight.

There were people everywhere, trying to take photos. Jane saw a woman with red-brown hair behind the American man, pressing the button of her camera. That’s stupid, Jane thought, she can only see the backs of people’s heads there. The woman shook her camera angrily; there seemed to be something wrong with it. The American woman pulled Jane forward, laughing happily. ‘Come on,’ she said, ‘let’s get to the front! Use that video, Harry!’

Alan Cole stopped the coach outside Parliament, and sat there, quietly holding the horses. A man opened the coach door, and Prince Charles and the Duke of Edinburgh got out. Then the Queen got out. She was wearing a long white dress, and carrying a gold handbag. She walked slowly towards the entrance to the building.

‘Excuse me, please,’ the woman with red-brown hair said. ‘I must get closer.’ She pushed past Jane and held out her small black camera.

‘Oh, all right,’ Jane said. ‘But. my God!’

There was a loud BANG! Jane saw a bright white light in front of her eyes, and felt a terrible hot wind on her face. The wind threw her backwards, and she fell to the ground with a lot of other people. For a moment she lay there, not thinking, not seeing.

Her eyes were open but she saw nothing. Only. blue sky. She heard nothing. Only. silence. Her body felt no pain. But she could smell something. Smoke.

Smoke? she thought. I don’t understand. Why smoke? And this blue sky. Where am I?

Then the screaming began.

The screaming was high and loud and terrible. It didn’t sound human. It went on and on and on.

Jane saw a hand in front of her, on the ground. A man’s hand with blood on it. And broken glass. She moved her head and saw broken glass everywhere, and blood, and bodies lying on the ground. She stood up slowly.

For a moment she thought everyone was dead. There were bodies everywhere, but no one was moving. Then a man ran across the road, and one of the bodies moved.

The body wasn’t human; it was a horse. As it moved, it screamed. The horse tried to stand up, but it couldn’t, because it only had three legs. There was blood all-round the horse, and a big bit of wood in its stomach.

The Queen’s coach was broken into a thousand pieces, and there were bits of wood and clothes and bodies everywhere. The bodies looked like broken dolls.

‘Dad!’ she screamed. ‘Oh God - my father!’

She ran quickly towards the coach. A policeman with a bloody hand tried to stop her, but she pushed him away.

‘My father’s over there!’ she screamed.

At first she couldn’t find him. There were so many bodies - and so much blood! She saw the horse in the middle of a great lake of blood, trying to get up on its front leg. There was blood coming from the horse’s nose and stomach - and under the back legs, something that looked like.

A body. A man. ‘Father!’

Alan Cole was covered with blood and his face was as white as paper. When he saw Jane, he opened his eyes and screamed. ‘It’s my leg! My leg - get this horse off me!’

His leg was under the back of the horse, which was moving wildly, trying to get up. Each time the horse moved, it fell on Alan Cole’s leg, and he screamed.

Jane ran and pushed the horse but it was too big, too heavy. She pulled its tail but that was no good. It tried to get up and fell on her father’s leg again, twice. She could hear his bones breaking. Then a policeman came and held the horse’s leg. Jane held its tail, and another policeman held Alan’s arms. Jane and the first policeman pulled the horse to one side, while the second policeman pulled Alan free. The horse screamed, kicked Jane on the shoulder, and died.

Jane went in the ambulance with her father to the hospital. There were lots of people there. She heard a reporter talking on the telephone to his office.

‘Five,’ he said. ‘Five dead, and about thirty are very badly hurt. It was a bomb - it must be terrorists. But the Queen is safe. She was inside Parliament with her husband and Prince Charles and.’

‘Never mind the bloody Queen!’ Jane thought. ‘What about my father?’

The doctors took Alan away from Jane, and she had to sit and wait. Her shoulder was hurt, but not badly. For nearly four hours she walked up and down, drank coffee, and thought: why?

Why try to kill the Queen - how will that help anyone? Why kill tourists and soldiers outside Parliament? Why try to kill my father?

Jane’s father was the most important person in the world to her. When he was a soldier, she had travelled around the world with him. He had taught her to climb mountains, win judo fights, ride horses, sail boats - he was a great father. Now, she thought, he may be dead.

At midnight, a young Indian doctor came to see her. He was tired and serious. He looked at her sadly.

‘It’s bad news, isn’t it?’ Jane said. ‘Is he dead?’

‘No, Miss Cole,’ the doctor said. ‘We have saved your father’s life. But I am afraid.’ He hesitated.

‘Yes? What then? Please - tell me!’

‘I am afraid he has lost his leg. It was too badly broken - we had to cut it off.’

‘Oh my God!’ Jane sat down suddenly. ‘You cut his leg off!’ She stared at the doctor and thought: Dad will never be able to climb or ride or sail again. Oh, poor man! It’s worse than being dead! She began to cry.

‘I’m very sorry, miss,’ the doctor said. ‘We had to do it, to save his life. He’ll get an artificial leg. He’ll learn to use it. At least he’s alive.’

‘Yes, I suppose so.’ Jane looked up. ‘I’m sorry, doctor. I’m sure you did your best. Can I see him now?’

‘Yes, of course. The nurse will show you.’

In the hospital bed, Alan Cole lay quietly. His face was as white as the sheets on the bed, but when Jane came in, he opened his eyes slowly. Jane took one of his hands in hers. The hand was cold, like ice.

‘Janie? Are you all right?’

‘Me? I’m fine, Dad. And you’re going to be OK too, aren’t you? The doctor told me.’

He closed his eyes, and for a long time he didn’t answer. Perhaps he’s asleep again, Jane thought. Then, very quietly, Alan Cole said, ‘Stay with me, Janie.’

‘Of course, Dad. I’m not going anywhere.’ Jane sat down on a chair beside the bed. ‘You sleep now.’

Her father closed his eyes, and the nurse smiled at Jane. ‘Would you like a cup of tea, miss?’

‘Yes, please,’ Jane said. ‘It’s going to be a long night.’ She held her father’s hand, and watched him sleeping. He looks happy now, she thought. Like a baby.

Next day, the doctor told Alan about his leg. Jane sat by the bed and held his hand while he listened. He didn’t say anything, but tears came into his eyes.

‘I’m very sorry, Mr Cole,’ the doctor said. ‘But we had to do it. Your leg was broken in forty places, and you lost a lot of blood. You’re lucky to be alive.’

‘Lucky!’ Alan Cole said angrily. ‘With this? Damn it, man, I’ll never walk again!’

‘Oh yes, you will, Mr Cole. We’ll get you an artificial leg. They’re very good - they move like an ordinary leg. No one will see it under your trousers.’

‘And will I be able to ride horses with it, or swim, or climb mountains?’

‘Well, perhaps not.’ The doctor hesitated. ‘We’ll do our best for you, Mr Cole, believe me. Now, here’s something to help you sleep. You’ll feel better later.’

All day, Jane waited in the hospital. She drank tea, read newspapers, had a meal, and held her father’s hand as he slept. No one came to visit. Her mother was dead, and her brother lived in Australia. At four o’clock her father woke up, and looked at her with big frightened eyes.

‘Janie?’ he said.

‘Yes, Dad.’

‘What happened? The doctor said there was a bomb, didn’t he? And I lost my leg. But. I can’t remember.’

Very quietly, Jane told him what she had seen. Then she read the newspaper aloud.

Five people have died, and forty are in hospital. One man from the Queen’s coach lost a leg, and the other three are dead. But the Queen, Prince Charles, and the Duke of Edinburgh were not hurt. Yesterday some Irish terrorists rang the BBC to say they exploded the bomb. ‘We are sorry that ordinary people died,’ they said. ‘We meant to kill the Queen, not them. But accidents happen sometimes. The Queen was lucky this time, because the bomb exploded too late. But she has to be lucky every time. We only have to be lucky once.’

‘My God!’ Alan said. ‘The bastards! Who. who died?’

‘One policeman, a tourist, and three coachmen,’ Jane said. ‘You were the only coachman who didn’t die.’

‘Oh no.’ Alan’s eyes were filled with tears. ‘George, Bernard, John - dead! What harm had they ever done to the Irish, or to anyone? Why did the Irish have to kill them with their bloody bomb? There’s no justice in this life, is there?’ ‘Well, perhaps the police will.’ Jane began.

‘Yes, I hope they catch those murdering Irish bastards, I really do. I hope they lock them in prison until they die.

That’s what I hope. By God, I do!’

‘Of course they will, Dad.’ Jane stroked her father’s hand softly. ‘The police are out there now, looking for the bombers. They’ll catch them, before too long.’