The Battersea Barricades

Book 16: Chronicles of St. Mary's

by Jodi Taylor

Genres: Time Travel; Science Fiction

Synopsis

A Chronicles of St Mary's short story that is sure to entertain. If you love Jasper Fforde or Ben Aaronovitch, you won't be able to resist Jodi Taylor. It's not easy being a rebel. So many new skills to assimilate. Never mind strategic planning, weapons expertise and the like - there's bicycle-stealing, oil-stain removal and boat steering to be mastered first. And quickly. It's the time of the Civil Uprisings and two young women set out to make a difference. Their only problem? They don't know where they are. Or where they're going. Or what to do when they get there. Other than that ... Fans of St Mary's will enjoy this glimpse into the past of some of their favourite characters. Readers love Jodi Taylor: 'Once in a while, I discover an author who changes everything... Jodi Taylor and her protagonista Madeleine "Max" Maxwell have seduced me' 'A great mix of British proper-ness and humour with a large dollop of historical fun ' ' Addictive. I wish St Mary's was real and I was a part of it' 'Jodi Taylor has an imagination that gets me completely hooked ' 'A tour de force'

Release date: January 1, 2019

Publisher: Headline

Print pages: 73

Sample

Acknowledgements

I always meant to write this story and kept putting it off because I wasn’t sure of either the cause or the history of the Civil Uprisings that culminated in the Battersea Barricades. Then, during last year’s June heatwave, I was struggling into a sweater – long story – and one of the arms was inside out and I lost my way. I was flailing around like a maniac and, somehow, I managed to hit myself over the head and it really hurt. I had no idea I packed such a punch. Anyway, with the pain came inspiration. A constitutional crisis. It’s amazing what you think about when seeing stars.

This story is simpler than usual for which I apologise. Normally there are several strands to one of these shorts but, in this case, I felt the story of the Battersea Barricades deserved to stand alone.

Rather like the people who were there.

This was a difficult story to write. I started off with all the confidence of complete ignorance and almost immediately discovered I’d bitten off more than I could chew and that I was going to need help. A lot of help.

I contacted the House of Commons about constitutional crises and the like, and they sent me a load of useful stuff. Thanks very much for that. All the political mistakes are mine.

I’d like to say that I’ve never fought in the streets – although I did start a very small but successful riot in Germany once – so I just had to sit and look out of the window and dredge up a few colourful memories. All the rioting mistakes are mine.

I have been on a narrow boat and I have chatted with the owner. All the riparian mistakes are mine.

I have studied locks and their mechanism and I have spoken to a lockkeeper. Many thanks to Jason from the Canal and River Trust. All the mistakes concerning locks and their operations are mine.

I did study maps on the layout of the Thames and the possible route to London from Gloucester. All the cartography mistakes are mine.

Thanks to Phillip Dawson, Risk Management Operations Ltd, for his advice on helicopter gunships and firepower. I listened very carefully and then went my own way. All the military mistakes are mine.

Thanks to the people at the Dick Whittington for permission to use their pub in this story. To lessen any unnecessary anxiety on the part of the reader – it is still standing.

I’ve never stolen a bike but I did have mine stolen as a child and I reckoned that was close enough.

I have walked across Chelsea Bridge many times. Many of you will be aware of my love affair with Battersea Power Station. I couldn’t resist dragging it into yet another story. Sorry.

St George killed a fire-breathing dragon. He’s the patron saint of England. I don’t know why – he was born in Cappadocia, executed in Lydda, and slew the dragon in Silene, which I think is in Libya – but, patron saint of England he is.

Here’s another useful nugget of info concerning St George’s Day – 23rd April. According to Professor Rapson, if you gather your dandelions on St George’s Day then your dandelion wine will be perfect for drinking on Midsummer’s Day.

Whether or not that’s true, I have no idea. I remember Professor Rapson, standing his fermenting demijohns on the windowsills in R&D and saying, ‘Sunlight, Max. You can’t get enough of it. For the purposes of wine, that is,’ shortly before managing to blow out all the windows five days before ‘D-Day’. That’s ‘Drinking Day’, as Miss Lingoss helpfully explained to me while we inspected the wreckage. How five demijohns managed to take out eight windows, two whiteboards and a desk was a bit of a mystery and Miss Lingoss’ suggestion that we weaponise the wine and offer it to the Ministry of War was firmly rejected by Dr Bairstow, himself in no good mood after yet another punitive visit from the provisional wing of the Society for the Protection of Historical Buildings – pronounced SPOBE. In vain did I try to raise his spirits by pointing out that, in the future, they would change their name to the Society for the Protection of English Regalia and Monuments, pronounced … I was instructed to vacate his office forthwith and to take Dr Peterson with me.

That was pretty much the end of the professor’s wine-making career. Those of us who had listened in anticipation to the really quite energetic gloop, gloop, gloop of enthusiastic fermentation suffered some disappointment, although, as Peterson pointed out, if it could devastate the entire eastern end of R&D what would it have done to our delicate stomach linings? I should probably mention that this disappointment would have been tempered by enormous relief from the more thoughtful and sensible members of St Mary’s if, as Leon said, we had been able to find these thoughtful and sensible members of St Mary’s in the first place.

I don’t know why I’m maundering on about wine. It has absolutely nothing to do with the story, so, trudging back to St George’s Day …

It was St George’s Day at St Mary’s. That’s the St Mary’s Institute of Historical Research. We’re located just outside Rushford, although, as Leon often points out, if I don’t keep a firm grip on Professor Rapson, Miss Lingoss, Mr Swanson and all the other nutters in R&D, we won’t be located here for very much longer. We investigate major historical events in contemporary time. With the professor’s wine dripping off the ceiling and not an unbroken window in sight, now would not be a good moment to call it time travel.

Anywa. . .