Dangerous Encounters

Chapter 26 Destruction death and revelation

With Ruth gone, I was fortunate to have a complex job to run like the Doncaster Project.

The caravans at the layby near the Harrogate base, disappeared some three days after the disaster at the quarry. 

I had arranged and attended Pat's funeral, publishing its time and location in a national daily. Many protesters attended, people from the quarry, even Al Manderson from the base, and Liz, Steve and Marjorie. Sick with loneliness and grief I searched the crowd for Ruth, but she had either disguised herself, or waited until I had left. Next day at the grave I found another wreath, "From Ruth and Mandy, to our dearest fallen comrade. We will never forget." 

'Neither would I' I thought.

At the funeral was another group of protesters; the families of the truck drivers killed and injured at the quarry. A fight broke out between Pat's supporters and this group, which the police had to break up. Fortunately no major injuries resulted but the press had a field day. 

I had to attend an inquest, and a Health and Safety inquiry. These ground out the facts in inexorable and minute detail. I relived each moment. Many times my delivery faltered as I sat in the witness box. 

Again and again I was asked why the concrete trucks had made their precipitate exit. Alan Wentworth maintained it was his interpretation of what I wanted. I told them that I had not asked for it. Ruth had been the only person near enough to hear my anguished cry over the noise of the trucks, and Mandy and Pat my promise not to let the trucks go. 

The press made me villain of the piece, and by implication my supporters. I gave a press conference, where I again relived what happened, but was able to say that I had felt Pat was my daughter and grieved accordingly. This made things worse. I had to explain why - and declare my feelings for Ruth, who was also seen as villain by some elements of the media. 

Eventually they found some other story, and left me alone. 

Steve, Marjorie, and Liz conspired not to leave me alone for such spare time as I had. It wasn't much. I deliberately ran the team at Doncaster short of one staff engineer and worked a sixteen hour day. 

The US Army delivered a huge container on a 100 ton sixty foot long articulated low loader trailer, which was completely encased in gloss-white painted plywood. We were told to keep it parked out of the way until the secure store was ready. It looked to me as though it had been aligned for delivery with the programme that existed before the massive scope increase in April. 

I didn't have the will to pursue the sale of the Burnley house, now there was no point in finding an alternative lifestyle. 

Helen, and her deteriorating Ken, helped me at that end, when I went to check the house and the post. 

July passed into August, the nights getting longer. 

To save space on the now cramped and busy site we had stacked our cabins two high. My office gave a panoramic view of our workings, and I was looking into the arena, contemplating the web of incidents that drew me to think of Ruth, as I did every day, still grieving, with that sick feeling at the back of my throat. I heard Steve's brisk ascent of the stairs.

"Hi, boss. We're missing a drawing." 

"Oh?" 

"Yes, it's a transition from the cable trench as it goes up the side of the big foundation." 

My brain kicked into gear, "I'm sorry, Steve, that was my fault. Ellen told me about it, but we then ran into that problem at Railton House and I forgot to do anything about it. Leave it with me."