There were two cars in there; on the left was a four-year-old BMW 3 Series estate, but it was the car on the right that had Jamie’s attention. It was a V-registered Mark II Ford Escort RS2000, which made it a 1979 or 1980 model. They stopped making them in 1981, Jamie seemed to recall. It was a real classic, with its “droop-snoot” front-end, and worth a fortune.
‘Blimey! I can’t remember the last time I saw one of these,’ said Jamie. ‘I loved them when I was a kid. I mean, they’d stopped making them years before I could drive, but I always wanted one.’
‘I’m sure I’ve seen this driving around town occasionally!’ Jane smiled. ‘So why don’t you take it for a spin, then?’
He looked at her and grinned. ‘Fancy a ride?’
‘Bloody right, I do! I remember Doyle driving one of these in The Professionals!’
He unlocked the driver’s door, got in and turned the ignition key. The battery was low so they had to jump-start it from Jamie’s Seat, and when it burst into life there was a lovely burbling sound from the sports exhaust. He revved it a little, then put it in gear and drove out onto the drive. Jane closed the garage and he unlocked the passenger door for her. She climbed into the Recaro bucket seat and fastened her seat belt.
‘Where to, madam?’
‘How about a blast along the seafront to Galley Hill?’
‘You’re on!’
He took it steady along West Parade at first, getting a feel for the car. He also tested the brakes hard; they didn’t want to get to Galley Hill doing 100mph and not be able to stop! It was a completely different driving experience from modern cars: there was no power steering, it was noisy, it only had a four-speed gearbox and the ride was really hard. There were also lots of rattles and squeaks. There was a radio-cassette player in the centre console and Jane rummaged in the glove box and found a handful of tapes.
‘Ah! This’ll do nicely,’ she said. It was an old tape of Bryan Adams’ greatest hits. She put it in the stereo and found the track Summer of ’69. Jamie stopped on the other side of the roundabout by her apartment block, facing east along Marina. He revved the engine and let out the clutch as Bryan Adams started singing;
‘I got my first real six-string,
Bought it at the five-and-dime…’
The car leapt forward in a cloud of smoke and squealing rear tyres and Jamie red-lined it in each gear as he changed up through the gearbox. They had the windows open and were singing at the tops of their voices as they roared along the empty seafront for a little over a mile. They had a fantastic feeling of recklessness and excitement that was a huge release from the tensions and horrors of the past months. They topped-out along De La Warr Parade at 110mph and he took his foot off the gas as they approached Galley Hill. They slowed going up the hill and turned round at the top, where Jamie pulled over.
‘Come on then; your turn!’ Jane grinned at him and they changed places, then she roared off down the hill and along the flat. When they got to the roundabout by her flats she turned onto West Parade and drove home at a more sedate pace, both of them laughing and grinning from ear-to-ear. Back at the house she parked the car in the garage then they went inside feeling elated and made some coffee. After laughing some more about their crazy ride they went back to the gardening with smiles on their faces.
Something happened on the Wednesday that Jamie had to tell Jane about when he got home from a trip to the retail park. She had prepared lunch while he was out and they sat down to eat when he returned.
‘Well,’ he said, ‘there’s at least one more person alive in the area, maybe more.’
‘Why, did you see them?’
‘No, but a car was gone from the park by Tesco’s, which was there on Friday when I got the generators- a Ford Mondeo estate. I forgot to tell you about it at the time. I couldn’t remember if it had been there on my last visit and I had a lot on my mind, but it was definitely there on Friday and now it’s not.’
They talked about the implications of this, but couldn’t decide if it was a good or a bad thing. Ostensibly, they should have felt pleased that others had survived, but so far two of their three encounters with other survivors had been bad ones.
‘It’s possible they don’t even live in Bexhill,’ said Jane, ‘but came in from the surrounding area.’
‘That’s true. Oh well, there’s nothing we can do about it; we’ll either meet them, or we won’t. We’ll just have to be cautious whenever we go out, and make sure we’re always armed, to be on the safe side.’ Jane agreed with him.
He thought for a second. ‘On that note, I think it’s time we went down to the beach to give you a bit of instruction on the shotguns. You can fire off a few cartridges to get a feel for them.’
‘Okay, that’s a good idea.’
They finished lunch and cleared up then he brought the two sawn-offs and one over and under into the kitchen and put them on the table. He broke them open, removed the cartridges and demonstrated the differences between them. Her sawn-off was the oldest and simplest design, with two external hammers that you cocked manually and a separate trigger to fire each barrel.
‘I’d avoid firing both barrels together, if I were you,’ he said. ‘The kick would be huge and might hurt your shoulder!’
The other sawn-off and the over/under were more modern designs, with internal hammers. He explained that they cocked automatically when you broke open the barrel and closed it again, and there was a safety catch on top of the stock.
‘That means that if they’re loaded and closed they’re always ready to fire; all you need to do is slide the safety off and you’re ready to rock ‘n’ roll!’
He pointed out that his sawn-off had two triggers, like hers, but the two over/unders had just a single trigger which fired each barrel in turn. ‘The recoil from the first shot automatically re-cocks it, ready for the next shot.’
Jane practised opening and closing, loading and handling them, then they took all three guns and the box of cartridges they’d got from the Toyota down to the beach. Max followed them down the garden, but waited on the top step and watched them go onto the beach.
They didn’t go far and stopped ten yards from the nearest groyne, in line with one of the posts. Jane loaded the first sawn-off, cocked it and held it loosely up to her shoulder. Jamie stopped her immediately. ‘Whatever you do, don’t fire it like that! You’ll hurt yourself. It’s got to be snug against your shoulder to absorb the recoil. If it’s loose, the recoil will drive it back into you and you’ll end up with bruises. If it’s tight against you, your body moves with it to absorb the shock.’
She settled it snugly into her shoulder, aimed at the post and pulled the trigger. She gave a little shriek of excitement and turned to grin at him. Max barked behind them. They turned and waved at him and he barked again as if to say “Just checking!” She raised the gun again and fired the second barrel, then tried Jamie’s sawn-off. She broke it open, loaded it, closed the barrel and slid the safety on. She raised it to her shoulder, slid the safety off with her thumb and fired each barrel in turn.
They walked up to the post and Jamie showed her the spread of shot either side of it. They walked back to the same spot and she did the same with the over and under gun. Jamie said to hold it away from her at a slight angle when she broke it open, so the automatic ejectors wouldn’t throw the spent cartridges into her face. She broke it open and the cartridges ejected, followed by a trail of smoke. When they went up to the post she could see the much tighter grouping of the shot pattern because of its longer barrel. They repeated the process another ten yards further back.
‘Excellent,’ said Jamie. ‘Feel comfortable with them?’
Jane grinned and nodded. ‘Cool! I wish I’d tried this years ago.’ He smiled and asked her which sawn-off she felt happier using, and that she could choose which she preferred. She said she was happy with the one she had. They walked back up the steps to Max, patting and stroking him, and Jane gave him a dog treat. After putting the guns away
in the house they carried on with the gardening.
That evening they cooked and ate their meal together in his kitchen. Even though she was now sleeping next door since the previous night, it made much more sense for them to cook together, rather than both of them burning wood on a single meal each. They planned to continue doing so every day, and it was much more sociable like that, anyway.
After they’d eaten and cleared the things away they sat and talked for a couple of hours in the kitchen, with Max stretched out on his blanket in front of the stove, then Jane yawned and announced that she was ready for bed. They said goodnight and she stroked Max, then picked up her shotgun and a box of cartridges and went next door.
Jamie poured a glass of cognac and went to sit on the sofa in the conservatory, looking out at the night sky and listening to the waves break on the beach. Max heard him move and looked up; satisfied that he wasn’t going far he put his head back down on the blanket. Jamie sat there for half an hour, thinking. He decided that the next day, weather permitting, he would take the boat out for the first time and attempt to catch some fish. Apart from wanting fresh food, he was eager to try the smokers he’d built to see if they worked as they were, or if they would need modifying. He finished his drink, stroked Max and said goodnight, then went to bed.
Twelve
On Thursday morning when he got up, Jane was again up before him and they greeted each other. Max was devouring a bowl of food and she was sitting at the table with a mug of coffee, reading a book. She said there was coffee in the pot so he poured himself a mug and sat down with her.
‘I was thinking last night after you went to bed;’ he said, ‘I’d like to take the boat out to try it with the oars and see if I can catch some fish. We need to start getting fresh meat and learning to preserve it. The sooner we can stop using tinned meat, the better, as far as I’m concerned. I think we need to treat those foods more as emergency rations for when we can’t get fresh stuff. Obviously, we’ll have to continue using the tinned veg’ and fruit until later, when we can pick fresh stuff.’
‘I agree. I was looking at all the food we got before I went to bed last night and thinking similar things. I mean, it’s great that we’ve got it, and there’s still a lot more in the warehouse, but it’s no substitute for fresh stuff and we can’t rely on it. Also, there is still the possibility that more survivors will show up and find the warehouse, and we can’t exactly claim it as ours!’
He nodded, agreeing with her. ‘I’m conscious, though, that we’ve still got a lot to do in the gardens, and I don’t want to spend loads of time out on the sea, maybe catching nothing, while you’re working hard here on your own.’
‘No, but you’ve got to try it sometime soon, anyway. I think it’s a good idea and you should do it. It’s nice outside today and calm, which will make it easier with the boat. Why don’t you give it an hour or two while I carry on in the garden, and see how it goes?’ to which he agreed.
‘Also,’ she added, holding up the survival book she was reading, ‘I think we should start laying snares for rabbits in various places. We don’t want to rely on using the shotguns because our ammo is limited. I know we’ve got a good supply from what you found with the guns, but we don’t know if we’ll be able to replace it with more in the future.’
Jamie smiled. ‘Good thinking… You’re not just a pretty face!’ He ducked as her hand came up to clout him and they grinned at each other.
‘There’s a roll of thin garden wire on the wall in the garage that should do the job,’ he said.
‘Okay. Where d’you think would be good places to find them? The railway line might be good.’
‘Yes, it probably would. We could get to it easily from the bridge over Westcourt Drive, which is only a five-minute walk. There must be lots of burrows there.’
‘… And the green space either side of Down Road, too.’
‘Definitely; I’ve seen rabbit droppings there when I’ve been out walking. The hardest part will probably be finding the entrances to the burrows.’
‘Okay, so why don’t we each spend a few hours this morning doing that? You go out fishing and I’ll go out and see if I can lay some snares, then afterwards we can spend the rest of the day together in the gardens.’
‘Okay, that sounds good.’
‘I’ll take Max with me; he’ll be great at sniffing out the burrows, I’m sure.’
‘Do you think he’s up to it yet?’
‘Well… I know it’s only a short walk to the railway, but if I take your car it will save Max’s legs until we’re there, and he won’t have to do much apart from sniffing-out the burrows. I bet he’ll love it.’
‘Okay, go for it. Tell you what, though; take the RS2000 instead of my car. It’s got a quarter of a tank of petrol and we may as well use it,’ which Jane thought was a good idea.
They ate breakfast and washed up then Jane went into the garage to make some snares while he got the fishing tackle out. There were four rods with reels that he’d got from the angling club and each was set up with a different fishing rig. He chose one of the lighter rods with a fixed-spool reel that was set up for light lure fishing. He’d never used the multiplier reels on two of the rods before, but was familiar with fixed-spool reels from his coarse fishing days as a teenager. The tackle box contained many different lures and he had a landing net with a 4ft handle to bring fish into the boat… if he caught anything!
He got changed into some warm clothes and a lightweight jacket and got ready to leave. Max looked at him expectantly, wagging his tail. He reached down and stroked him. ‘No, Max, you’re going out with Jane today, to find some rabbits.’
Jane came out of the garage with a rucksack containing a dozen snares she’d made, with some sharpened pieces of doweling for stakes to tie the snares to.
‘Right; I’m all set,’ she said, putting the sawn-off into her pack along with a bottle of water and some treats for Max. ‘Have fun on the sea, be careful… and catch us some fish! I’ll see you later. Come on Max, let’s find the rabbits!’ Max barked and wagged his tail even more.
‘Bye;’ Jamie replied, ‘you be careful, too.’ She smiled at him and nodded.
He heard the Escort start up and pull away, then picked up the fishing tackle and his pack and walked out the back door. Once down on the beach he removed the tarp from the boat and tied it to the railing so it wouldn’t blow away. He put everything in the boat then pulled the trailer down to the water’s edge, where he unhitched the boat and slid it off the trailer into the water.
He waded in, pushing the boat out until it had enough depth to float, then jumped in and fitted the oars into the rowlocks. He felt a bit nervous as he had limited experience with boats of any kind. He grabbed the oars, bent forward and started rowing. Despite the sea being fairly calm, it was still hard work pulling against the surf and he made slow progress until he was a little way out and over the breaking waves. He could see the blue tarp tied to the railing easily, and he kept that in view as a point of reference in case he drifted too far.
He rowed until he was about fifty yards out, although from his perspective it seemed further than it actually was. He was nervous of going out too far and wondered if he should have an anchor of some sort to tether the boat in one spot. He thought he’d use a small lure first as he’d rather catch several small fish than use something that was too big and not get anything. He picked up the rod, fitted a lure and started casting out then reeling in, jigging it up and down. After five minutes he had forgotten his nervousness and was lost in the fishing. He used to do a lot of lure fishing for pike and perch as a teenager in lakes and rivers, and this was the same principle.
Every few minutes he would look up and note his position in relation to the blue tarp on the railings. After a while he could see that he was drifting slowly eastwards, although it wasn’t a problem. After about half an hour he’d drifted a fair way so he rowed back to roughly where he’d started. He was getting no takes so he changed lures severa
l times over the next half-hour, but still had no luck. He decided to row out further and try again; it was difficult to judge the distance, but he guessed he was about a hundred yards out now.
He’d been out for nearly ninety minutes and was getting a bit despondent. He’d imagined hauling in lots of fish within half an hour! He was starting to ache as well as feeling chilly, despite the sun. He drank a mouthful of whisky from his hip flask, picked up the rod and carried on casting. Suddenly he felt a tug on the rod and struck to set the hooks. He could feel a fish fighting on the end of the line and he played it carefully, not wanting to lose it. It didn’t feel too heavy, so he wasn’t worried about the line snapping; it was probably 15lb line on the reel, or similar. He reeled it in and then netted it with a big grin on his face.
He wasn’t too well up on sea fish but thought it was a bass and it weighed probably two pounds at least: he bashed it on the gunwale and put it in a canvas bag. Within the next thirty minutes he caught another smaller one and also two good-sized mackerel that were both about half a pound. That was good enough for him for two hours so he decided to head home. He’d drifted eastwards again, so had to row back further. He made it back to the beach with aching arms and shoulders, jumped out and got the boat onto its trailer. He pulled it up the beach and tied it to the railing, removed the tackle, his pack and the fish bag, then secured the tarp over the top and went back to the house. On the way he picked some sea beet leaves and put them in his pack.
After Jane left, she drove along Westcourt Drive and under the railway bridge, turned around and parked underneath it. She got out and opened the rear door for Max, who climbed out carefully, still favouring his back legs slightly but full of beans. His tail was wagging furiously, as if he knew what they were there for. She climbed up the embankment through the bushes, looking back to check that Max was okay; he was following at his own pace and doing fine. She took some wire cutters from her pack and cut a section of fencing then peeled it back. She walked onto the railway track and a few seconds later Max joined her, panting a little.
The Hoffmann Plague Page 11
