I managed to work for a few hours, sorting out clothes and then moving onto the piles of tins and packets of dry food from the ruined homes, checking the dates and organising them accordingly. There was a man to my right who wouldn’t stop sobbing. I tried to block it out but it was constant and irritating; sighing, I looked over. He was hugging a doll and sitting in a pile of sheets. Opening my mouth, I wanted to speak, but there were no words. Gripping a tin, I turned it in my hands and listened. I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t stop, nor could I move. It took me several minutes before I was able to speak.
“Are you ok?” What a stupid thing to say.
He didn’t reply and instead the noise subsided. Eventually, with a nod he stood and walked away, carrying the doll back into the northern sector. I watched him go and looked beyond him to where the handful of Excavators cleared the houses, carrying heavy rolled blankets and rugs to the huge pit in the centre of what was once the neighbourhood’s park. There was something indescribable in the air: it carried me on the breeze and a small part of me tore away into the pit. I choked then, gasping for air and drawing it deep inside until it hurt: for a moment I couldn’t get enough. One of the blankets slipped and I glimpsed a mottled and wizened limb, something that I’d hoped not to see again, not here. I couldn’t help but look, it was out of place, awkward and… not right.
Turning around I headed back home. I needed to sleep.
I woke to sounds of chatter and laughter and the smell of smoke from the pit. Undressing, I emptied the small amount of water from my bottle onto a cloth and washed in my room, away from the visitors. My meagre wardrobe was woeful, but I picked out a green tee shirt and a pair of stretchy jogging bottoms.
“Kate, you’re awake.” Hayley grinned as I reached the bottom of the stairs and peered into the room, counting the heads: fifteen, not too bad. “Just in time, everyone has just arrived. Games night begins.”
She sounded so excited. The Henleys and Simon were there, and a group of younger, attractive townspeople I hadn’t seen before and whose names all merged into one during introductions. They were apprenticed to the doctor but they looked far too young to be medical students to me. There were labourers and then a mixture of nobodies like me, those without a reason or purpose in the town.
There were three groups in total, one six and two fives. I ended up with Hayley, Deven, a man called Louis who was a mechanic, and Karl and Mia who were both of no consequence… like me. I vetoed the games of Monopoly and Cluedo and so we started with Jenga. Once the wine flowed, the atmosphere eased, and soon the three tables were rowdy and alive. Between the moves Karl shared his life before; he was an I.T. manager for a local pharmaceutical company and had lived in the northern sector for nearly ten years. I hadn’t truly realised the extent of the attacks on the country: when the bombs dropped, the lifelines to the world outside of our little bubble went with it. The internet terrorists hit, viruses, open doorways into government databases and security systems, the stock exchange crashed and never recovered. What started as an apparent joke by a group of teenagers at the height of internal unrest and externals battles escalated the meltdown.
“There’s nothing left, no telephone lines, no satellites, nothing,” he declared simply as he pulled a brick from the tower and held his breath. It wobbled precariously but remained standing. Just.
“But what about the back-up systems? Surely we had something… I dunno, something secret?” Mia asked as she slid her chair back and walked around the table, hesitating and pausing at the bricks.
“How do I know?” Karl stood behind Mia, placed his hands on her waist and tickled. The distraction caused the tower to crash and the group to whoop in joy.
“Cheat,” she grumbled as the others laughed. She swatted his hands away while he grinned and winked.
Deven lent forward and brought his lips close to my ear. “Look at the way they stare at each other, it’s so sweet.”
Mia chose the next game; some dice-based nonsense with plastic pigs and chance. I found myself looking at the other tables. Simon, Glen and some of the others played Risk. I knew that game, Stephen would play it every Wednesday night with friends. The others were arguing over Trivial Pursuit.
I overheard Simon and Glen discussing raiding parties within fifty miles of the town, Wanderers who had banded together to loot and pick at the carcasses of towns and villages. He intended to send out a strike force of ex-military and police and deal with the problem should they approach. Glen frowned and several times opened his mouth to reply but ended up merely shaking his head and remaining silent.
“Kate, when’s your birthday?”
“My what?” I blurted out in horror, turning to face Hayley.
“Your birthday. The day you were born.” Hayley held a pen in her hand and a small pink fluffy diary. “I’m trying to get everyone’s birthdays recorded so we can do something as a community. My party was amazing, and I just want everyone to have something to look forward to.”
She continued to look at me; the whole table did. I had just a few seconds to reply or look rude, or worse, as though I was hiding something.
“November the 23rd,” I finally replied.
“How old will you be?”
Paranoia kicked in. Mia stared at me and then raised her eyebrow, sharing a look with Karl. I had to answer. “Twenty-nine.”
“Great.” Hayley beamed and went around the table noting down birthdays, anniversaries and special occasions. Why hadn’t I lied? Now, written in that book was something I couldn’t erase or hide behind. I could feel eyes on me and as I looked up Mia smirked back. I decided I didn’t like her. The feeling was compounded when she spoke.
“Are you excited about the baby, Kate? It must be lovely having a reminder of your husband.” Bitch.
Everything went quiet. My face was hot and the roof of my mouth and nose tingled as I forced myself not to burst into tears. Our eyes met and I saw the challenge there. She wanted to know more. She poked and prodded for answers to the questions I knew they gossiped about behind my back.
“My husband would have loved a baby.” It was a truth which told a lie. “Do you have children, Mia?”
“Not yet, I’d love a baby though.” Flicking a look at Karl, she winked and he looked uncomfortable. “We’ll see.”
His face was ashen and he kept dropping the dice as he tried to slip them into their tube.
“Good luck with that.”
Trivial Pursuit next. I set up the board and listened to the conversation behind me with interest.
“We heard from a military camp in Rennes. Couldn’t understand much of what they said, but Teresa is going to try and re-establish communications.”
“Rennes? Where’s that?”
“France. Yeah I fucking know, right?”
I missed the next exchange as a roar of laughter drowned out their conversation.
“… they’ve got some kind of message on loop, something about needing medical supplies and vomiting. It cuts off every now and then and you can hear people talking.”
“How are we getting their transmissions? Bit far, isn’t it?”
“I don’t fucking know, I’m no scientist. Terry says it’s something to do with the atmosphere. We’re going to try and extend contact. Might even get the ol’ Morse code going. Proper retro.”
They started to talk about Terry and her tight fitting jeans then. I tuned out of their conversation and went back to the one on my own table.
It was nearly midnight when people started to leave. There was more talk of supplies and of the northern sector. They were going to flatten the area, all four hundred houses, and with the help of the builders, renew and rebuild half that amount with solar panels and self sustainable resources. The town architect and the council wanted the land to be cleared and a large proportion of it turned over and worked for food and resources. The three trainee doctors would have a surgery there.
I thought about the doctor’s daughter over the next few days. I w
as too nervous to ask after her, though, afraid that people would wonder why or – worse – that they would engage in conversation.
Chapter Sixteen
After being badgered several times a day every day, I finally gave in and agreed to go to the social club with Hayley and Nikky.
They discussed the up-coming celebrations for Easter in two weeks time. The group decided to bake cakes and decorate the town hall for the children. The more I listened, the more I realised how boring the day would be. I only knew half of those present by name and, as the list of attendees went around the room, I struggled to remember names and faces. I recognised Mrs Carroll, sitting by the window in her finest clothes with a trolley at her side and a serious expression on her face as she organised refreshments. She was to be ‘pourer’ for the meeting and she sombrely nodded in my direction. Swallowing a laugh I continued to listen to the plans without interest.
“Perhaps we should have an Easter egg hunt?” I blurted out, inwardly cringing; boredom had suddenly made me crack. Several of the group swapped looks and rolled their eyes.
“What do you have in mind?” asked Deven, looking up from his pad and smiling at me.
“Maybe we could decorate some hen’s eggs, leave a trail of them for the children, plant a few clues, make it a treasure hunt.” I glanced at Nikky. “Nikky told me a couple of the older boys miss their games consoles, so perhaps instead of sweets and toys we could sort something out with the Wanderers and have them find one?”
“What about the younger ones?” It was one of the Enforcers’ wives this time, Shelly I think her name was. “I mean, we can’t ignore the little ones.”
Accepting the tea from Mrs Carroll with thanks, I noticed how Shelly held her teacup: her thumb and fingers grouped together but her little finger was curled. A voice from a long time ago floated through me: It is an affectation to raise the little finger, even slightly, never forget that. Again. That was history though, the rules could be rewritten now.
“There are plenty of salvaged toys and games held in the block of garages by Simon’s home.” Deven smiled brightly. “We can sort something out for each child. I think it’s a great idea. Thank you, Kate.”
The chilly exterior of the group thawed a little as my idea was developed and expanded. The day after Easter Sunday, Deven reminded us that it was the Sikh New Year and he agreed to approach the small Sikh community and suggest a wider celebration involving the whole town. As Mrs Carroll handed me my tea, I thanked her and sipped quietly, listening to the allocation of jobs and crafts. Sharon and Tina, who sat opposite me, volunteered to paint the eggs for the hunt, and Nikky would create the clues for the trail. As the jobs were handed out one by one, I realised that I was the only member not involved.
“Is there anything I can do?” I twisted the ring on my finger.
“I think we’ve delegated everything, I’m sorry, Kate. I thought you’d want to relax and put your feet up.” Deven stared at my bump, and a flicker of envy crossed his face. “I don’t want you overexerting yourself. We need to look after you.”
I didn’t speak for a moment, and then, swallowing the anger, forced a smile.
“I understand. I’ll help Hayley with the food.”
“That’s a great idea; I don’t think anyone will argue that you’re the best cake maker here.” He looked around the room and everyone nodded.
When the official meeting ended and the socialising started, I struggled to talk and smile.
“Are you okay, Kate?” Nikky touched my arm, her fingers burning against my skin. “You’re awfully quiet.”
“I’m tired,” I lied. “I think I need to go and lie down.”
The beach was quiet. I couldn’t even see the fishing boats on the horizon or Tom by his rock pools: just a huge expanse of sand and ocean. It was nearly lunchtime and I was hungry, but I ignored the pangs and wandered along the coastline, walking further than I had since I arrived. I didn’t know how long I walked for but the curve of the beach changed and thinned, and the sand along with it, replaced with slippery rocks and pebbles. I couldn’t walk any further. Turning around to return my heart hammered in surprise: I couldn’t see the town. Only my footprints in the sand. Sitting on a nearby rock, I leaned back and stared at the sky. It was nothing more than a dark grey haze. No shapes, no colours, just the sheet of cloud stretching out across the water.
The rain started to fall. Huge fat droplets splashed around and on me and within a couple of minutes I was soaked. There was no point trying to hurry back, there was no shelter and there was nowhere I could hide. So I embraced the sensations, water rolling down my back and arms, each drop chasing the one in front. A bright flash caught my eye, followed by a deep rumble through the skies: God moving his furniture around. I started to walk back for, as much as I loved the rain, I didn’t want to be alone in a storm. I moved as far from the ocean as I could. The angry water foamed and lashed at my ankles.
More flashes, more rumbles: I laughed. My skin was stung by the cold and my clothes stuck to my flesh, but I didn’t care. This was good. This was loud and unpredictable. This was peaceful and pure. Like Katherine: pure. I started to run, shaking off the wet and beating the cold, my hair rhythmically whipping my neck.
I couldn’t run for long, those days were gone. The baby squirmed in annoyance and I slowed to a walk, rubbing and placating the grumpy sod. The rain was relentless.
I thought back to the months I had spent alone finding this place. When I left the comfort zone of my home county, I clung to the thought of a place where everyone was equal, and the whisper of safety and acceptance of a small community pulled me through the dark days and nights. I had started to fear it was nothing more than a fanciful creation of my imagination and then, as the desperation and loneliness had began to eat away at me, I’d found Glen. Recalling that first meeting, the way he had placed his guns on the ground and spoken firmly with his hands open and welcoming, and then caught me as my legs bucked in relief and tiredness, a ghost of a smile crossed my lips.
I realised I could now see the town, a hazy outline in the distance. Lights twinkled at me through the rain like little beacons guiding me home. It was nearly dark.
Home: this small part of the world that was now home, miles from my life before, from my family and friends.
“Where the fuck have you been?”
I flinched and opened my mouth to apologise, but closed it again. That voice wasn’t meant for me. Reaching the corner of the main road that converged with the beach, I stood half-hidden behind a crumbled wall and watched as Mr Henley grabbed Deven’s arm and pushed him along the path.
“I asked you a question.” Roger, the sweet man who called me ‘ducky’ now slapped his husband’s face.
“I told you, I was going to see Bethan. I needed to speak to her about prepping for Easter.” He was crying. I could hear it in his voice. “I stayed a bit longer than expected, I’m sorry.” He cowered as Roger struck him again and I flinched with him, twisting the ring on my finger and feeling the pain as if it was me he beat. “Roger, I’m sorry!”
“I told you to be back by four, it’s nearly nine.”
He didn’t get a chance to reply as he was dragged along the towpath towards their home. I heard his cries and apologies merge into constant sobs. I didn’t want to be outside anymore.
When I got back home, I faced Hayley’s tears, suffered the hugs and was swamped in guilt. She had been hysterical, telling me how she worried all afternoon. I hadn’t thought, and hadn’t realised just how long I’d been out. Nearly eight hours. I apologised repeatedly and she just cried and cried before sobbing in the living room.
“We care for you, love, that’s all. You can talk to us.” Glen followed her out of the room.
Freezing and soaked to the bone, I sat in the kitchen dripping onto the floor and staring at the table. I felt like a scolded child. I didn’t want to go upstairs as I’d have to walk through the living room and see them. The gentle ticking of the wall clock gre
w louder with each minute that passed. Slowly I stood, careful not to make a noise; I didn’t want Hayley to come and shout at me again. It took an age before I made it to the living room doorway and peered in. Glen sat with a book, alone.
“She’s gone upstairs.”
He didn’t look up and I walked past him up the stairs, feeling the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I hated having my back to anyone. In my room I stripped and dried myself and dressed in a huge pair of pyjamas. Sitting at my dresser I brushed my hair and plaited it away from my face. I missed make-up now; I could see a flurry of spots starting to break out on my chin. I hadn’t had spots since I was a teenager. I curled under the blankets of my bed and tried to sleep, starving and miserable. The baby kicked. Eventually I closed my eyes and allowed exhaustion to take me.
The following morning we ate breakfast in silence. Glen left halfway through, pushing his food away and walking out of the house without saying a word.
“I’m sorry, Hayley. I didn’t think, I just went for a walk and lost track of time.” She stared back at me, her face softening slightly. “I didn’t feel great and wanted fresh air, needed to clear my mind.”
To stop the waffling I sipped at the lukewarm tea, hoping she would speak.
“Do you know what Glen did before the war?”
I shook my head.
“He was an undertaker. We ran a funeral home together and I co-owned one of the florists in town. He had the contract for the local authority and coastguard rescue. When the weather turned bad, we thought the worst. Do you understand?”
Nodding I started to speak but she shook her head.
“Glen did a solid nine months’ body identification and clearance, three times his allocated amount. It got us this house, electricity, heating and soon the water as well. He’s volunteered for the northern sector clearance in exchange for a UV filter. It got us so much, yet cost too much. He’s not the same.” I continued to sip the tea. “He went out looking for you yesterday afternoon, just picked up his bag and left without saying a word to me. When he came back without you he sat in his chair reading with his music on. Not a word, Kate. He didn’t say one word. I was worried sick about you and the baby; and then I had him to worry about as well. Please don’t walk that far without a radio again, Kate, promise me.”
Anna Page 14
