said,
my eyes filling again. I sniffed. “I think I’m getting a
cold.”
“No you’re not. No one gets
colds any more.” There was a silence while I mopped my eyes and
he stared at the flames in the stove’s window and drank. He
hesitated then said, “You can tell me about it if you like, but
I should warn you I’m pretty useless at this sort of thing.
I’ll probably say something insensitive and you’ll get
furious with me, but that might be good because it would take your
mind off whatever’s upset you. So go ahead. If you want to,
that is.”
That made me smile in spite of my
dejection. “Oh, it’s nothing really. I know I’m
lucky. So many people have died and I’m alive. It’s just,
sometimes it gets to me, being stuck here and snow day after day, and
it’s always freezing, and no trees or birds or animals apart
from rats, and no eggs or bacon or bread or proper milk in tea or
fresh fruit or hot baths, and having to work hard just to survive,
and no prospect of anything getting better ever.”
Morgan picked up the bottle and
refilled my glass. I was tempted to tell him about David, and paused
to decide whether I’d regret it. Sometimes it’s easier to
talk to a stranger about personal matters. Morgan was passing
through, he didn’t know me, plus he didn’t strike me as
the type to really appreciate how awful it was, which if he did,
would make it worse. And I might feel better if I told someone.
“The other thing is, today is my
boyfriend’s birthday, and I think he’s dead but I’ll
never find out. David, he was called.” Tears slopped out of my
eyes and down my face and I wiped them away. “ And the
bloody stove went out.”
There was an awkward pause. “At
least you’ve got the stove going again,” he offered.
“Told you I was crap at this.”
I laughed wryly through my tears. “You
did. You were right. Let’s have some food.”
I was too hungry to wait to eat, so I
fetched the camping gas cooker which I save for emergencies so as not
to use up all the gas canisters, opened two tins of curry and a tin
of sweet corn and got out rice. While the curry heated up over the
rice, I opened a tin of peaches and doled the contents into two
dishes for dessert. I put the tubs of vitamins out. Say what you like
about our monotonous diet, it’s certainly quick to prepare; but
I do miss fresh meat and vegetables. It was better when we had frozen
food, but frozen food doesn’t stay good forever, and in a world
without hospitals, food poisoning is best avoided.
I laid the counter with cutlery,
glasses and paper napkins, and lit a candle. It looked quite festive.
On the window ledge my solar tulips were already glowing faintly. I
still had a lump in my chest, but felt better, less desolate. That
would be the alcohol. Morgan brought the champagne over and filled
our glasses while I dished up.
We were both ravenous, and hardly spoke
until we’d finished. I made coffee and poured brandy, and moved
to the sofa. The stove was roaring away and the room was finally a
little warmer; not warm enough to take off my jacket, though. I put
my feet up, pleasantly mellow. Morgan stared out of the window, let
the curtain fall and came and joined me. He seemed more approachable
tonight, less forbidding. I felt suddenly curious about him, quite
apart from my intention to take Charlie’s advice and ask him
whether he was a serial killer. He was so different from everyone
else I know; tougher and meaner, as if he came from a harsher world
where people were not to be trusted. Of course the world we live in
is harsh for everybody these days, but my little group retained on
the whole the manners you’d find at an Islington dinner party
in the old days. I tried a dinner party-type opener.
“You never said what you were
doing when I found you.”
“Trying to find shelter.”
“Yes, well, I kind of assumed
that. I didn’t imagine you were on your way to post a letter.
Where did you come from, where are you
my eyes filling again. I sniffed. “I think I’m getting a
cold.”
“No you’re not. No one gets
colds any more.” There was a silence while I mopped my eyes and
he stared at the flames in the stove’s window and drank. He
hesitated then said, “You can tell me about it if you like, but
I should warn you I’m pretty useless at this sort of thing.
I’ll probably say something insensitive and you’ll get
furious with me, but that might be good because it would take your
mind off whatever’s upset you. So go ahead. If you want to,
that is.”
That made me smile in spite of my
dejection. “Oh, it’s nothing really. I know I’m
lucky. So many people have died and I’m alive. It’s just,
sometimes it gets to me, being stuck here and snow day after day, and
it’s always freezing, and no trees or birds or animals apart
from rats, and no eggs or bacon or bread or proper milk in tea or
fresh fruit or hot baths, and having to work hard just to survive,
and no prospect of anything getting better ever.”
Morgan picked up the bottle and
refilled my glass. I was tempted to tell him about David, and paused
to decide whether I’d regret it. Sometimes it’s easier to
talk to a stranger about personal matters. Morgan was passing
through, he didn’t know me, plus he didn’t strike me as
the type to really appreciate how awful it was, which if he did,
would make it worse. And I might feel better if I told someone.
“The other thing is, today is my
boyfriend’s birthday, and I think he’s dead but I’ll
never find out. David, he was called.” Tears slopped out of my
eyes and down my face and I wiped them away. “ And the
bloody stove went out.”
There was an awkward pause. “At
least you’ve got the stove going again,” he offered.
“Told you I was crap at this.”
I laughed wryly through my tears. “You
did. You were right. Let’s have some food.”
I was too hungry to wait to eat, so I
fetched the camping gas cooker which I save for emergencies so as not
to use up all the gas canisters, opened two tins of curry and a tin
of sweet corn and got out rice. While the curry heated up over the
rice, I opened a tin of peaches and doled the contents into two
dishes for dessert. I put the tubs of vitamins out. Say what you like
about our monotonous diet, it’s certainly quick to prepare; but
I do miss fresh meat and vegetables. It was better when we had frozen
food, but frozen food doesn’t stay good forever, and in a world
without hospitals, food poisoning is best avoided.
I laid the counter with cutlery,
glasses and paper napkins, and lit a candle. It looked quite festive.
On the window ledge my solar tulips were already glowing faintly. I
still had a lump in my chest, but felt better, less desolate. That
would be the alcohol. Morgan brought the champagne over and filled
our glasses while I dished up.
We were both ravenous, and hardly spoke
until we’d finished. I made coffee and poured brandy, and moved
to the sofa. The stove was roaring away and the room was finally a
little warmer; not warm enough to take off my jacket, though. I put
my feet up, pleasantly mellow. Morgan stared out of the window, let
the curtain fall and came and joined me. He seemed more approachable
tonight, less forbidding. I felt suddenly curious about him, quite
apart from my intention to take Charlie’s advice and ask him
whether he was a serial killer. He was so different from everyone
else I know; tougher and meaner, as if he came from a harsher world
where people were not to be trusted. Of course the world we live in
is harsh for everybody these days, but my little group retained on
the whole the manners you’d find at an Islington dinner party
in the old days. I tried a dinner party-type opener.
“You never said what you were
doing when I found you.”
“Trying to find shelter.”
“Yes, well, I kind of assumed
that. I didn’t imagine you were on your way to post a letter.
Where did you come from, where are you
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