‘Did you watch Boris’s announcement?’ Why do we all call him Boris? thinks Ruth. He’s not our mate. Other prime ministers were referred to by their surnames. She grew up with Thatcher and briefly rejoiced with Blair. It now looks as if she’s entering the plague years with Boris.
‘Yes,’ she says.
‘You can’t go outside, you know. Except once a day for exercise.’
‘Nelson, I said I watched it. I know.’
‘You can go to the shops for food. But you should wear a mask.’
‘A mask?’ For a moment Ruth has a vision of herself wearing one of those Venetian carnival masks that only cover your eyes and yet, in classical plays and operas, render you completely unrecognisable.
‘Jo’s telling us all to wear masks covering our nose and mouth. It’s not official advice yet but they’ve been doing it in other countries.’
‘Where do I find a mask?’
‘I’ll send you some.’
‘What’s this going to mean for you and the team?’
‘I’m not sure yet,’ says Nelson. ‘The police might have to provide back-up for the other emergency services. My team will go on with their work, but it’ll be difficult with everyone in lockdown. We’ve got a rather sensitive investigation going on at the moment, lots of interviews and softly-softly stuff. It’s going to be hard if we can’t get within two metres of anyone.’
Ruth knows that Nelson finds the softly-softly stuff hard at the best of times. His preference is always for action and it looks as if the next few weeks (months? years?) are going to be low on action.
‘If you need anything,’ Nelson is saying, ‘just call me. I’m on my own at home. I can come round any time. Even if I have to stay two metres away.’
There are many thoughts in Ruth’s mind. Why is Nelson on his own? Is Michelle still in Blackpool? Why? How far away is two metres anyway?
‘Mum,’ says Kate, who is trying to interest Flint in one of his cat toys. ‘Is that Dad? Can I talk to him?’
Ruth hands the phone over.
‘My school is closed,’ says Kate. ‘Mum’s going to teach me at home.’ A pause. ‘I suppose so,’ says Kate dubiously. Is Nelson saying that Ruth will be a good teacher? She knows she should be, in theory, but teaching maths and literacy to an eleven-year-old is very different from teaching archaeology to eighteen-year-olds. And Ruth will have to do both at the same time. She prays that schools will open again soon. Apart from anything else, it breaks her heart to think of Kate missing out on all the end-of-Year-6 celebrations.
After Nelson has rung off, Ruth calls her dad. He sounds a bit bemused but says that the church is organising food deliveries for older people. ‘Gloria’s helping out although Ambrose says she’s one of the older people herself.’ Ambrose is Gloria’s eldest son. Ruth gives thanks for Gloria and her extended family and, for the first time in her adult life, she gives thanks for the church too.
Opening her emails Ruth sees that her brother Simon has forwarded something saying that coronavirus is a hoax. There are also three messages from David Brown. Ruth does not feel able to cope with them right now. She goes into the kitchen to make supper and stares at the contents of her cupboards. Four tins of tomatoes, three sorts of pasta, rice, baked beans and some ancient packets of cereal. That won’t get her far in the face of the apocalypse. She needs to go shopping, probably wearing a mask. Can she take Kate with her? What’s more dangerous, the supermarket or being home alone? Ruth has no idea and she can feel panic rising. Flint wanders in looking expectant. He only has three sachets of his gourmet cat food left. That settles it. Ruth and Kate can make do, Flint definitely can’t. She will have to go shopping tomorrow.
Ruth puts on a pan of water for pasta and pours herself a glass of wine. Only half a bottle left. On the back of Kate’s latest school newsletter Ruth starts a list.
Cat food
Wine
Priorities.
Later, when Kate is in bed, Ruth pours herself a second glass and goes out into the back garden. The dark seems very comforting. Everything is the same here as it always is. She can hear the wind in the apple tree and, from the marshes, a night bird calls. Her security light comes on, illuminating grey grass and the spectral tree. Flint or a fox?
‘Ruth?’
Ruth jumps. The voice is so close, almost as if her own thoughts are speaking to her. Then she sees Zoe standing by her back door, also with a glass of wine in her hand.
‘Great minds,’ says Zoe.
‘Yes,’ says Ruth. ‘It’s all rather scary, isn’t it?’
‘I’m actually quite relieved that we’re in lockdown at last,’ says Zoe. ‘Most of the doctors at the surgery think we should have done it weeks ago.’
‘Will you still be going in to work?’ asks Ruth.
