There won't be any illuminations: P&S Lancashire

[Will Ritson]

1. Bring me sunshine

Bring me Sunshine, in your smile / Bring me Laughter, all the while / In this world where we live, there should be more happiness /
So much joy you can give, to each brand new bright tomorrow

21st February 1984

The young soldier sat in the wind shelter with his comrades with his flask of soup. He'd have preferred fish and chips from one of the many shops that populated this part of Morecambe Prom, but they weren't open. It was half term. But they weren't open. Not today.

The group had been part of a platoon sent to Morecambe, where they commandeered a transit van to patrol on foot the area around the lifeboat station, not that there was much to patrol.

Who's going to rob a lifeboat when the sea is boiling? one of the lads had joked.

It wasn't funny, but the young soldier managed a wry smile, if only to try and keep his spirits up.

The group of six were from the nearby Halton Barracks, part of a contingented of raw young men sent over from Catterick "to assist the police". They'd only been there since the emergency had been declared at the weekend. They knew what assisting the police might mean; someone needed to with so many of the experienced guys over in Germany. So many of the expereinced guys not coming home.

Fifty yards down the Prom and a man was muttering to himself whilst he looked under benches for old fag ends and the unlikely odds that there'd be a few coppers to buy a cup of tea. He shuffled up the Prom, past the boarded up burger stand and the closed childrens' roundabout. His dark clothes damp and foisty from days of unwashed living throughout the winter. His beard unpruned and full of weeds. Muttering.

'ere, look at 'im one of the soldiers chuckled

Fuckin' nutter another chipped in

The man shuffled to the soldiers

Could I have tuppence for a cuppa tea, please? he asked in a well-spoken voice that betrayed his heritage (1)

Here pal one of the soldiers gave him a five pence piece. Well strictly speaking not a five pence piece. It was an old shilling from the pre-decimal days.

Thankyou, son he said. And keep safe lads. I've been there and I've seen them. They are terrifying and beautiful in one, and the only word on your mind forever is death. Death. Keep safe lads.

Off he shuffled, past the lifeboat station and along the prom towards The Battery. But despite their skits and sympathy, the soldiers knew he was right. The man certainly was right. He had been there. Maralinga and Christmas Island. He knew what the buggers would do.

It was just after eleven. Less than an hour later the people of West Germany began to find out first hand.

-----

KNOCK, KNOCK

The Policeman entered the office without waiting for an invitation.

Councillor, they've used one in Germany. Around noon. We've just had it official from the Regional.

The councillor said nothing. He knew the drill. He turned and walked over to the window, before stopping and bowing his head as he remembered that the window was boarded up. He'd miss that view. The castle and the priory on the hill. The roof tops and the spires. The brewery chimney. The brewery, of course.

He hadn't bothered coming in wearing a suit. No point. It'll be overalls from now on.

Thank you. Could I have a moment alone?

Just one, Councillor. The policeman turned and left.

He took a moment to call his wife, but was speechless when she answered.

Hello, hello?

He wept. I'm so, so sorry. He left the phone off the hook, and walked to the door in a daze. He stood in silence for a moment, before wiping his eyes and leaving the office for what he assumed would be the final time.

-----

It was a brisk two minute walk from the Town Hall across to the Police Station. They had better resources underground. The cells of Lancaster Town Hall might have been able to hold the likes of Buck Ruxton, but they wouldn't be much good for the inevitable. The area around the Town Hall, Court House and Police Station had been cordened off since Sunday. On the other side they could see the students, much quieter than yesterday. In fact they were eirily silent this afternoon.

A siren. Everyone Jumped.

No worries, just a police car leaving the station.

The councillor looked at the Town Hall clock behind him. It was one thirty seven precisely.

Good afternoon, Sir the inspector greeted the Councillor. Good? What's good about it. You know where everything is by now. Make yourself at home. We're here to help you make the best of this, you know.

CRACK, CRACK. Rifle shots again outside. Must keep that corden secure.

They went down the stairs towards the basements. The police station was a sixties building that had a day like this mind. It hadn't taken long to strip all the junk out of the basement and fit it out.

The councillor was pleased to see the faces that he had expected. He hadn't been sure how many would come when the balloon actually went up, but to their credit they had. All of them. He allowed himself a brief smile, if only for an instant. They were waiting for him.

OK Gentlemen - and ladies - we may have a busy afternoon ahead of us. Let's get on with it.

-----

The soldiers in Morecambe first knew something was not quite right just before two when a rather flustered looking man with two kids behind him appeared down the road and started banging on the door of the Brucciani ice cream parlour.

Open up, open up! I want an ice cream for my kids! No answer.

The soldier's radio crackled into action.

Secure the lifeboat station and make shelter. Repeat. Secure the lifeboat station and make shelter. This is not a drill. Over

It was the sergeant at Morecambe Town Hall with the rest of platoon.

The man with the kids carried on banging against the shop door. Then the window. The kids looked scared. They couldn't have been any older than ten.

Dad, where's our mam at?.

He knew exactly where their mam was. Shit herself and frozen solid on the sofa. Some half-term this had turned out to be. It had been hard enough getting the petrol to come to Morecambe, then everything was shut anyway.

All he wanted was some ice creams for the kids.

-----

The soldiers quickly got to work at the lifeboat station. Securing the doors and windows, and making some shelter in the best available room they could find. Just like on the telly.

-----

It was a long afternoon until the sirens went. A long four hours. So much to do, but so little you really could do.

-----

At 17:58 they heard the noise. They felt the tremble. They shook in their shelter.

The Town Hall felt it too. Time was up.

The man didn't feel it. Neither did his kids. He'd drowned them in a rock pool two minutes earlier before attempting to slit his wrists with a Swiss Army knife he'd pinched from a gift shop.

At 17:58 the first nuclear device to detonate in the north west of England exploded above the communications base at Inskip, around seventeen miles south of Lancaster.

Bring me fun / bring me sunshine / bring me love

-----

(1) An actual Lancaster and Morecambe character. When he died in OTL in the early noughties it came to light that he'd been a scientist involved in the British atom bomb programme in the fifties. He hated what he had done and quit, living the rest of his life on the road.

[Falkenburg]

Awesome.

A welcome addition to the P&S Family. Looking forward to more.

Falkenburg

[Prospero]

A very good start, well done. Nothing like a bit of impending doom to help me get through a Sunday afternoon in January. It happens I live in Manchester, so Morecambe's close enough to feel like this story's set in my back yard. I can't think of anything in Morecambe that would make it worth hitting, so hopefully it'll survive reasonably intact. On the other hand it's quite close to Lancaster - I can't remember from the main timeline if Lancaster gets a nuke or not, if it does Morecambe's in trouble. I look foreward to future installments anyway.

[JN1]

Wow, yet another excellent P&S story. Nice work.

[Archangel]

Subscribed, Will!

[Will Ritson]

Thank you for the feedback. I'm going to keep the story short so that I can actually finish one.

Prospero - Neither Lancaster nor Morecambe are on the list mentioned in P&S. The nearest blasts noted are:

Inskip: 17 miles SSW of Lancaster
Barrow-in-Furness: 16 miles W of Morecambe
Preston: 21 miles S of Lancaster

What is the official line on blasts not noted in P&S? I seem to recollect that if it hasn't been noted either one way or the other that it is fair game. Curious about Salmesbury and Warton, that's all.

[JN1]

Will, I've tended to assume that if something is not on the list I, or mentioned elsewhere I can do with it what I like.
Btw I think you have the first bomb initiate a little early.

[Prospero]

Morecambe should be reasonably OK physically then. The biggest problem in the short term might be the prevailing winds blowing fallout in from Barrow, but they might be lucky. I've always figured that if you absolutely have to be on the British mainland in a nuclear war, you want to be as far west as possible, preferably on the coast.

[JN1]

Probably true. The East coast would get a dose from the Continent, hence the reason the UKWMO had links to their European equivalents - as shown in both versions of Sound an Alarm.