Chapter 39
30th July
The Old Man spoke with the Director, Security Service, who in turn spoke with the Home Secretary who spoke to the local Chief Constable. A new readiness exercise had been called. He had the honour of being the first to implement it. It was all about how well the Gas Board and the Police could work together in the event of a 'fifth column' enemy strike on utilities. Of course, so as not to frighten the public they would be told it was a simple gas leak. His staff should be told the same, the public were more likely to co-operate if they had no idea it was simply an exercise. There would be ‘monitoring staff’ there to evaluate the response and the secrecy.
The day of the World Cup final found them blocking Marion Ward's street off. The Gas Board erected a red and white striped little tent in the road then set to work with the jack hammer. A couple of uniformed police strolled up and down, knocking on doors, telling the residents to keep everything closed and to stay inside. Either end of the street was blocked by hastily erected barriers and signs. Marked police cars added to the scene, blue lights lazily rotating.
Outside Marion Ward's house, a large blue van with 'Gas Board' written on the sides was parking up. In the back, unseen, the Farralland men turned the 'tap' on the canister and allowed it to feed the rubber hose that disappeared through the floor and vented out beneath.
Gallagher, wearing a blue overall and a flat cap, knocked on Marion's door. A uniformed policeman stood behind him. It took a while but she opened it eventually. "Hello, Miss. My name's Timpson. I'm from the Gas Board. I'm terribly sorry but we're going to have to ask you if there's a neighbour you could stay with today. There's a gas leak and we've had to close the road down so we can try and locate it but at the moment it seems to originate from the close vicinity of your house. Being as you appear to be right on top of it we need to get you away from here and to a place of relative safety."
The bobby, an older chap, cut in. "That's right, Miss Ward. I couldn't smell anything myself at the top of the street but I just got a whiff of it as we walked up your garden path."
Recognition crossed her face. "Oh, hello Constable Parker. Well, if that's the case have I just got time to get some things? How long is this going to take, only I have a solicitor coming around this afternoon to formalise some papers?"
Gally shook his head. "I really can't say. We're expecting to be here all day and the police have strict instructions not to let anyone into the street, unfortunately. Perhaps you could phone them and reschedule?"
She tutted and shook her head. "Not possible. I'm afraid. She phoned me from her home and I didn't think to get her number."
Gally looked suitably sympathetic. "I should think they'll call you back when they can't get through. Now, when you go to your friends you'll have to leave the house open or give me the keys because we need to do some tests inside but no need to worry as we'll have a uniformed constable with us at all times."
Her nearest neighbour's house sat in a large garden similar to Marion's, with mature shrubs and trees that shielded both houses from any casual observation. After leaving her there, Constable Parker was called to the opposite end of the street. Within minutes of his departure, two technicians in gas board overalls carried equipment boxes into the house accompanied by Dave T wearing police uniform whilst Mick set up a stripey tent on the gravelled drive. Everything in the street was played out in slow time, heads were shaken and consternation acted out whilst neighbours supplied cups of tea and plates of biscuits.
Just before three o'clock, under the twin towers of Wembley Stadium, England and West Germany took to the field in front of a crowd of almost 97,000. After a scrappy start, it took the Germans just twelve minutes to take the lead following a giveaway header from Wilson to Haller who collected it well and stabbed the ball into the back of the net. It took six minutes for England to equalise. Moore, taking a free-kick, looked up and saw Hurst unattended. The long ball was weighted perfectly for him to run onto and nod into the goal.
Half time brought a call from the checkpoint. There was a brown Ford Zephyr, two on board. The female said she was a solicitor who'd come to see a client over some important papers. Informed about the gas leak they left but five minutes later they were at the other barrier, same thing, same result.
The final resumed and with an almost prophetic twelve minutes to full time mirroring the Germans taking the lead, Hurst's shot was hurriedly cleared by Höttges straight into the path of the advancing Martin Peters who slammed it home. England clutched tightly to the 2-1 lead until, with less than a minute left, a German free-kick incited a failed clearance leaving the ball to fall to Held whose shot skidded off the back of his fellow countryman, Schnellinger, wrong-footing the England defence and Weber made it 2-2. Extra time was called.
The interval showed both teams were fatigued but the England manager, Ramsey, employed some psychology when he insisted his team get to their feet whilst the Germans remained down.
One hundred and one minutes played, Ball collects a long pass from midfield then centres from the right. Hurst receives and turns just outside the six-yard box lashing it towards goal as the centrifugal forces take him to the ground. The ball hits the underneath of the bar, appears to hit the line and bounces out. Hunt, the England player nearest the ball throws his arms up in triumph, Weber heads it clear. The referee isn't sure but the linesman says it's a goal, believing it bounced back out from the top of the net before hitting the line. The West Germans remonstrate, but it changes nothing.
The second half of extra time is almost over. One minute twenty seconds to play, the English crowd whistle desperately hoping to influence the referee. The Germans last-ditch attack, thirty seconds to go, Bobby Moore chests the ball down in the England penalty box, one-twos it with a mate and looks up, seeing Hurst unmarked in the German half. A superb long ball is collected and Hurst runs as fast as his tired legs can carry him. Overath makes a tremendous effort to catch him from the English half and almost does but as Hurst enters the penalty box he unleashes a shot that sails into the back of the net. The British commentator lets out a remark that becomes legend: "some people are on the pitch, they think it's all over. It is now!" The Jules Rimet trophy trembled in anticipation.
Within minutes, in the married quarter area of a barracks near Edinburgh, two excited young English boys danced and yelled on the communal grass to the stony silence of their Scottish neighbours.
Meanwhile, the circus dissolved around six leaving the false Gas Board van in the street to monitor levels, so the residents were told. In reality, it was monitoring the technicals and providing close support, should it be necessary. They made tea and a meal on an old army stove on the pavement. No one noticed.
The rest of the team dissipated into the surrounding area, the military types seeing to themselves whilst Clive, Sandy and Gally hit the nearest chip shop five miles away then found a nice secluded track that would take all three cars; precautions just in case the Cherneys decided on an unannounced return.