‘Okay, but I’m not sick. My name’s Jamie. Where are you from?’
‘None of your business, and I don’t care what your name is.’
‘But there’s no-one left! We might be able to help each other, surely?’
‘I don’t need your help. I’ve got a family to look after and we’re doing okay. Walk away and come back after I’ve gone: that way we won’t have any trouble.’
‘Bloody hell! This is stupid; can’t you see that? Everyone’s dead! We could help each other.’
‘I don’t care! Just leave me alone and piss off, mate, otherwise there’ll be trouble!’
Jamie shook his head incredulously. ‘Okay, pal, have it your own way.’
He backed away a few steps then turned and walked away, glancing over his shoulder at the man to keep an eye on him. He left the store, got back in the truck and pulled away. Just then, a Nissan 4x4 drove up behind him. In the mirror he saw a woman get out and look at him, then go to meet the man coming out of the store with his trolley. He drove away; shaking his head at what he thought was utter stupidity.
His next stop was Sainsbury’s; he hadn’t been there since he’d caught the plague months before and had a sense of déjà vu. The encounter with the man was still on his mind as he walked around and it had upset him. He went along the aisles with a trolley and found some things that others hadn’t thought to buy or loot. Most people had concentrated on the fresh produce first, followed by the tinned and dried food. He found lots of vinegar, salt, sugar and vegetable oil, and many jars of pickling spices and herbs – things he hadn’t thought to look for on his last visit. On a whim, he thought he’d have a look in the warehouse behind the shopping area to see if anything was left in there. The doors were locked, so he went out to the truck and got a large wrecking-bar; bigger than the one he usually carried in his pack.
He managed to force the doors and stepped inside. Oh my God! It was like Aladdin’s Cave. The shelves and racks were by no means full, but there were still loads of products everywhere he looked. He shone his torch around and had a quick walk along the aisles, noting where things were. He thought they probably hadn’t had the time or the staff to put everything out in the store before the shit had hit the fan. He went back for his trolley and loaded cases of salt, oil, sugar and vinegar into it, along with a case of baked beans and some boxes of pancetta: he figured that as the meat was cured and vacuum-packed it should keep well without refrigerating. He also took a case of single-malt whisky and two cases of cheap vodka. The whisky was for sipping and the vodka was for preserving things like soft fruits; and after the fruit was eaten he would have nice fruit-flavoured vodka to drink!
He thought that would do for now, so he left and loaded the truck; knowing that all of this was here, he would return again soon. He didn’t need to go to Tesco’s on the retail park now, but wondered if he might find a similar situation there, with a warehouse full of goods. Before leaving, he walked through the short alley to the garden and pet supplies shop on the street front. The window was smashed and the door open, so he went in and looked at the selection of seeds, taking many packets of all the common vegetables, fruits, herbs and salads. Salads would be a real boon as they were quick to grow and were “cut-and-come-again”, so would provide a huge crop from each plant, well into the winter. He also picked up several bags of potting compost and a few bags of compressed wood cat litter.
He drove home feeling pleased with his trip. Back at the bungalow he reversed into the garage, then closed the door and unloaded some things, but the rest could wait until tomorrow. He’d had enough for one day as it was now late afternoon and he was hungry. He decided to get the wood-burner going in the fireplace and cook on that, rather than using up his gas or petrol on the camping stoves. His thoughts on the Rayburn were that he should use it only during the coldest months, or when he needed to bake or roast food at other times, as it would probably use a lot of fuel to heat it. During the winter it would be great for cooking and would also heat the kitchen and much of the house. While the stove heated up he opened a pack of pancetta and prepared other stuff to make a risotto.
He went out to the patio, filled a glass from the water butt and held it up to the light; it looked pretty clear but he decided to filter it. He didn’t think it would be suitable to drink without boiling or treating first as it had been standing for some time and could contain harmful bacteria. He drew off some more, poured it into his water filter and let it drip through. He got the key to the padlock on the back gate and a pair of scissors then walked through the garden to the rear. Unlocking the gate, he walked down a few steps and looked around; just a few yards away was a patch of sea beet so he cut a handful of outer leaves and went back to the house. He felt ridiculously excited at the prospect of fresh greens for the first time in months and smiled!
When the stove was hot enough he cooked his risotto on it, along with the sea beet, and it was the best meal he’d had in a long time. The kitchen and conservatory were now warm and cosy, lit by a couple of flickering candles, so after his meal he poured a large single malt whisky and sat on the sofa in the conservatory. He drew plans and made notes for the construction projects he had in mind, which he would begin the next day.
After a couple of hours he went to bed, feeling the happiest he had felt in months, despite his breakdown that morning and the encounter with the man. There was so much to do and to learn, but he had made positive steps today. He was a bit more realistic about what would be involved in self-sufficiency and the difficulties it posed, and tomorrow would start putting his ideas into action.
Six
Over the next three days he worked solidly on his projects and the weather was favourable to him; overcast and chilly, but at least the rain held off, which was all that mattered. He started early every day and worked until dusk, eager to get things finished. He was conscious that it was spring and that he needed to sow vegetables and fruits soon if he was to see any results by summer, so he worked with a will. Once these initial projects were finished he would work on the garden.
His first task was to build a covered porch area outside the back door, between the conservatory and the garden wall. He needed an area protected from rain where he could air-dry and smoke meats, work on things, or just sit outside without getting wet. The space was nearly five metres wide and four metres deep.
Five metres was a long span of wood, so he decided to put in a central support: he broke a hole through the patio and drove in a metal fence—post spike to hold an upright member. He constructed a framework using pressure-treated timber that would resist rotting, fixing it securely to the conservatory, the brickwork of the house, the upright post and the garden wall. For the roof he used the corrugated clear plastic panels he’d got from the builders’ merchants. It began below the existing roofline and guttering, sloping down at the same angle as the conservatory roof. Along the front edge he fitted new guttering, which went into a drainpipe, which in turn fed into the new water-butt. It was awkward work on his own and he had to improvise some props held in the jaws of his portable workbench to allow him to fix the framework in place.
His secondary aim with the new porch was to create a source of drinking water that wouldn’t need filtering or treating before being potable, which would be used up quickly, rather than standing for a long time. The existing water-butt took all the run-off from the roof, which was covered in seagull droppings and other organic matter, and needed filtering and then treating or boiling before being drinkable. The way he had constructed it, the water being collected in the new water-butt would be rainfall that had only come into contact with the new plastic roofing and guttering. He knew it wasn’t ideal; the seagulls could still poop on the new roof, but there was no way around that. He figured that at least the plastic was clear and he could see when it needed cleaning. The water flow into the butt could be diverted by means of a simple valve, for maintenance purposes. A thought crossed his mind and he chuckled: What the hell! I survived the plague, so what’s a little seagull crap in my water? Overall, he was pleased with the result; it maybe wasn’t the most elegant thing, but it was functional and sturdy.