Even Nelson hasn’t been able to avoid hearing about the deadly flu that apparently started in China. The news has been full of cancelled flights, holidaymakers trapped on a cruise ship like some modern-day re-enactment of theFlying Dutchman. Nelson is sorry for anyone caught up in it, of course, but it does slightly confirm his view that it’s better to avoid holidays altogether.
‘Have there been more cases here?’ he asks. ‘In the UK?’
‘Thirteen more today.’
‘That’s still not that many though, is it?’
‘There’ll be more,’ says Jo, with what Nelson thinks of as ghoulish relish.
‘It’s just flu though, isn’t it?’
‘People die of flu,’ said Jo. ‘Remember the Spanish flu?’
‘I’m not that old.’ He knows Jo wants him to retire but this is ridiculous. Wasn’t the Spanish flu just after the First World War?
‘I think we ought to be prepared,’ says Jo. ‘I’m calling a meeting on Monday.’
Jo loves meetings. Nelson bets that she’ll conduct this one in a full hazmat suit, complete with Darth Vader mask. He thinks she’s overreacting but he can’t really say so.
‘I’ll be there,’ he says.
‘And we should tell everyone to carry hand sanitiser with them. I’ve ordered extra.’
Hand sanitiser. Jesus wept.
‘I’ve been thinking about the Gaywood suicide,’ he says. ‘Something’s not quite right about it.’ He explains about the microwave meal.
‘Maybe she just forgot to eat,’ says Jo. ‘I often do.’
One of the many differences between them.
‘So I think we’ve got enough ingredients to make our own bread for several weeks. We can grow potatoes, leeks and carrots in the garden. I wonder if we should get some hens?’
Judy looks at the jars of flour and yeast in the pantry. When they bought the cottage, she hadn’t even known what the little room off the kitchen was for. But Cathbad, she realises, was always secretly prepared for the apocalypse.
‘Do you really think it’ll come to that?’ she says. ‘Shops running out of things? There have only been a couple of cases in the UK.’
‘People always panic about food,’ says Cathbad. ‘Food and loo paper.’ They get their lavatory paper specially delivered from an ethically sourced company. Judy approves in principle but she wishes the boxes weren’t labelled ‘Who Gives A Crap?’
‘Are you panicking?’ she asks.
‘No,’ says Cathbad. ‘But I like to be prepared.’ And he does look quite happy, humming under his breath as he sorts jars of pasta. But all the same, despite the everyday noises of Michael playing the piano, Miranda watching TV and Thing, their bull terrier, whining gently from the hallway, Judy feels slightly jolted. Could this coronavirus thing be more serious than everyone thinks? She’s not a catastrophist but she does trust Cathbad’s instincts.
‘Super Jo has called a meeting for Monday,’ she says.
‘Good for Jo,’ says Cathbad. ‘What does Nelson say?’
‘He says,’ Judy consults her phone. ‘“Jesus wept. What a lot of fuss about nothing.”’
‘I’m afraid Nelson is wrong this time,’ says Cathbad. ‘I’m going to put a circle of protection around the house.’
‘Things must be serious,’ says Judy. She means it lightly but Cathbad says, almost to himself, ‘I just hope it’ll be enough.’
Chapter 3
Cathy has to go home for her low-calorie meal, but Jack offers to stay and babysit Kate while Ruth is out. ‘We’ll get fish and chips,’ he says. Kate looks delighted.
‘Thank you,’ says Ruth. ‘I’ll drive you home when I get back.’ It’s a good excuse not to drink.
