Harvester – Chapter 7

Behind the Story

As we move into Chapter 7 of Harvester, the tension heightens, and the sense of urgency among the characters becomes palpable. Harvey, Zara, and Lilly are desperately trying to find Lucy, whose unexplained disappearance has left them anxious and on edge. Their visit to the Colchester police station only deepens their frustration, as the indifferent attitude of the desk sergeant clashes with their growing fear for Lucy’s safety. The environment itself, with its dim lighting and unwelcoming atmosphere, underscores the bleakness of their situation, amplifying the hopelessness that seems to be creeping in.

Character development in this chapter is prominent, particularly in how each character reacts to the mounting uncertainty. Harvey's anxiety and anger are raw, as his love for Lucy makes him feel helpless and increasingly desperate. His outbursts and pacing reflect a man who is emotionally unraveling, grasping at any possibility, however faint, that might lead to answers. Zara and Lilly are portrayed with a blend of strength and vulnerability. While they try to maintain composure and think logically, they can't escape the nagging dread that something is terribly wrong. Their camaraderie and shared concern are evident, yet so are the subtle undercurrents of tension as they process the reality that Lucy’s fate is beyond their control.

The dialogue brings out these emotional nuances. Exchanges with the dismissive desk sergeant show the group’s frustration at the authorities’ lack of urgency. The fleeting moments of mutual support, like Zara comforting Lilly when she feels left out of Lucy’s confidence, demonstrate the complexities of friendship under strain. The introduction of Deirdre, the disturbed old woman in the waiting room, adds a layer of eeriness and unpredictability. Her cryptic cries about a "purple van" seem insignificant at first, but they linger in the air as a haunting clue that may hold more meaning than anyone realizes.

Writing about these themes of helplessness, fear, and frustration is not just about crafting a thriller—it’s also about delving into the human condition. The uncertainty of not knowing the fate of a loved one, the desperate need for closure, and the frustration with a system that seems indifferent or incapable of providing help are real emotions that resonate with many. This chapter reflects the struggle of ordinary people caught in extraordinary situations, showcasing how they are tested in moments of crisis. For Harvey, Zara, and Lilly, it is not just about finding Lucy—it’s about confronting their own doubts, fears, and limitations as they push against a world that may not have the answers they need.

The narrative explores the darkness that can emerge in such moments, and how seemingly small details—like Deirdre's ramblings—can suddenly shift the course of events. As the search for Lucy intensifies, the story keeps the readers guessing, interweaving suspense with character-driven tension. The mundane setting of a police station becomes a crucible for testing their resilience, foreshadowing the deeper, more harrowing trials that await.

Chapter 7

It was early. The morning shift was leaving on foot and in their cars. The scents of deodorant and aftershave were thick in the main entrance to the Colchester police station. Mohammad had parked his car at the drop-off point and told them that he would wait. Police being curious souls, all looked into the vehicle, appraising Mohammad and the taxi he was driving. The fumes were belching out like a ‘70s chimney pot, and the rattle of it didn’t sound too clever. He thought it was wise to turn off the engine so the fresh-face coppers about to start their law enforcement duties wouldn’t be suspicious enough to stop and have a chat. He knew the MOT had expired two months ago. He wanted to get it done someday, but he also knew that someday was not a day this week, and indeed wasn’t this month either! The trio walked gingerly into the police station. The detritus of the Saturday night were either waiting for someone to be processed or to be processed.

The room was drab, dimly lit with yellow lighting, making the walls look nicotine stained and filled with the smell of cheap lager and cigarettes. Advice posters hung off the wall, with a couple of ‘Have You Seen...’ Posters displaying pictures of people, bikes, and weirdly, a laptop. The room was supposed to be like this: unwelcoming. Harvey thought if it were a beautiful place, everyone would come.

“Move along, Deirdre, there are people waiting behind you,” the seasoned police sergeant said, peering over his glasses with an air of disdain. Essex accented, droll, and dry. It was the kind of tone, if it had a colour, it would be beige. He wore spectacles. The kind you grab in the pharmacy by the cash register. He was unattractively thin with an Adam’s apple that bobbed up and down involuntarily, as though he had swallowed his policeman’s helmet.

Behind the stained window, which protected him from the clientele that plagued the front of the police station at this time of day, he was alone with an array of drawers, phones, and radios. It would have looked brilliant in 1990, which incidentally, according to the plaque on the wall, was when the station was opened by the mayor.

Next to the phones was a bottle of kitchen cleaner and a cloth. Deirdre turned and looked at the trio that stood there. She smiled; a bit unstable on her feet. Bedraggled and filthy. Yellowed skin, deeply lined from a hard life, poor lifestyle choices, and with a poor education. Her hair was so greasy that it could be a fire risk, and the unmistakable aroma of stale tobacco, cider, and urine hung over her like a smog of desperation.

She said something and stepped towards Harvey. Lilly, the consummate nurse, stepped forward to block her path and into the invisible exclusion zone of odour,  seemingly oblivious to it. Both Zara and Harvey, in unison, took a step back.

“What did you say, pet?” Lilly asked, putting a hand on her back and ignoring the greasy feeling on her hand. Deirdre said something else, but Lilly couldn’t quite catch it. Lilly looked over her crooked back, towards the crisp, clean sergeant behind the glass. She raised her eyebrows as if she had asked the question.

The copper behind the glass stood, motionless, arms folded, and asked, “She yours?”

Lilly rubbed the old lady’s back and shook her head. The question she had asked with her eyebrows was answered.

“No, I don’t know her,” Lilly replied, horrified that a public servant would objectify another person so publicly.

“You cannot speak to her like that, you animal,” Lilly said crossly.

The policeman still sat motionless and looked at Harvey and Zara for input. There was a pause.

“What did she say?” the policeman finally asked, nodding towards Lilly.

“She asked if you knew the lady...” Harvey stated

“...and that’s no way to speak to someone,” Zara added.

The policeman unfolded his arms, nonchalantly gathered up papers on the desk, and sighed slowly.

“She’s here every day. Looking for food, coffee, or the toilet. She needs to go across the road.” He gesticulated to the wall, as if the three of them had X-ray vision.

“To the Salvation Army. This is a police station, not a social club.”

“She ought to be properly looked after. Anyway, what can I do for you?” he asked, indicating to Harvey that he was elected as spokesman as all men the sergeants’ age would have done.