‘I heard a shot some time ago; was that you? Are you okay?’
‘Yes, it was me and I’m fine.’ He held up the plastic bag and smiled. ‘Roast duck for dinner tonight! Ever prepared a fresh one?’
She smiled in return. ‘Oh, wow! That would be great. And yes, I have. My dad showed me how when I was young, bless him. He was a country man and was always bringing something back for the pot.’
‘That’s good news, because I’ve never done it, though I’m okay with cutting up joints of meat.’
‘I’ve not long been up. I was just preparing a late breakfast as it was obvious you hadn’t eaten before you went out. I got your note.’
‘Yes; I thought I’d better get rid of the bodies first.’
‘What did you do with them?’
‘I put them in a skip along Beeching Road and burned them.’
Her face clouded over slightly. ‘Thank you for that… again.’
‘Don’t mention it; no problem. Well, I’ll just get the truck unloaded while you carry on with breakfast.’
He turned and walked back outside and brought the things in. He carried the water containers through to the porch out back, then the tools and jerrycans into the garage, and the shotgun he brought indoors and left in the hall. He emptied his rucksack onto the worktop and held up the Smith and Wesson.
‘Look what else I found on one of them.’
Her eyes widened. ‘Bloody hell!’
‘That’s just what I thought! We were lucky he didn’t have it in his hand when I came along, rather than in his pocket. I guess he thought Butthead with the shotgun had it covered.’
‘I suppose so. Where did you get your shotgun – or did you always have it?’
‘No, I found them last week in a house down the road, while I was looking for this place.’
‘Oh – so you’ve just moved in here? I did wonder. I had a quick look around after I woke up and it looks like you’ve been busy on some improvements.’
‘Yes. I’ll show you after we’ve eaten and tell you my thoughts.’ He picked up his sawn-off and showed her. ‘This was one of the three I found. I cut the barrels down to make a sawn-off, so it would be easier to carry around for protection. I’ll leave the two over and unders as they are as they’ll be better for hunting. That makes four shotguns and a revolver I now have; I’m getting quite a collection!’
She gave a wry smile. ‘You’re becoming a regular Rambo!’
He gave a short laugh. ‘Well, that’s funny, because before last week I’d never even held a gun before! How does the leg feel, and the bruises?’
‘The leg feels painful and kind of stiff, and the bruises are very sore.’
‘They will be for a few days, I’m sure. Maybe you should keep moving around as much as possible.’ She agreed with him.
By then, the food was ready so they sat at the table to eat. They were both hungry and ate in silence until they had finished. It was nearer lunch than breakfast, so he opened a tin of peaches and a small tin of custard as well.
‘Wow, that was fab – thanks,’ said Jane afterwards, wiping her mouth. ‘And thanks also for washing my jeans.’
‘No problem. Coffee?’
‘Yes, please.’
He ground some beans and put the kettle on, then washed the dishes in a bowl of seawater with some detergent and dried them. ‘I find that if I wash up as soon as I’ve eaten, the seawater and detergent works well enough; then I use the dirty water to flush the loo.’
He made coffee and they went outside, where he showed her the new porch area with the water butt, and the two smokers he’d made from the rubbish bins. He pointed inside the conservatory at the drying racks hanging from the rafters and said they were for drying fruit and herbs.
She was impressed. ‘You’ve done all this since Monday?’ He nodded. ‘You’ve done really well; great work, Jamie.’ He blushed slightly and said ‘Thanks.’
He crooked a finger at her, saying ‘Follow me,’ then walked off down the garden. He let her follow at her own pace and didn’t offer to help her. He was conscious of not wanting to crowd her or seem over-protective, as men can sometimes be towards women. She was obviously a strong woman; she’d showed that in the way she’d stood up to the thugs that morning. When she caught up he opened the back gate and started down the steps. She hesitated and looked at them with uncertainty, so he asked if she wanted a hand coming down, to which she agreed. He came back up and gave her his arm to negotiate the steps, then pointed to the boat; she leaned on the railing while he climbed down and removed the tarp to show her the new rowlocks and oars.
‘I got it from the angling club by Galley Hill, along with some fishing tackle, then brought it back here and fitted the rowlocks. It seemed a bit of a priority to me to start catching fish for protein. Once I’ve caught some I can experiment with smoking and drying them in the bins I modified.’
‘Sounds good, Jamie. You’ve obviously given a lot of thought to certain things recently.’
As they made their way back to the house he told her of his panic attack and breakdown on Monday, when he realised the enormity of his situation and the realities of survival and self-sufficiency – especially being on his own. They sat down in the conservatory.
‘Oh, God, tell me about it! The number of nights and days I’ve sat at home crying my eyes out, wondering what to do,’ she admitted.
‘I was a bit naïve at first,’ he said, ‘but after the reality hit me on Monday I sat down and did a lot of thinking and writing down ideas and plans. We’re not going to survive by living and eating on a day-to-day basis; we’ve got to plan weeks and months ahead, especially for the winter. That’s what got me thinking about ways of storing and preserving food.’
‘I agree. I’d come to similar conclusions as you, but hadn’t yet got around to thinking about how I was going to do it. I think I’ve been too focussed on finding somewhere else to live and planting vegetables and fruit.’
‘I know – I was just the same!’
They talked all afternoon. He showed her the cellar with the modified wine racks for storing fruit and veg’ and spoke of his plans for preserving foods by drying, pickling, salting, smoking, or storing in oil, and to collect as much salt, vinegar and oil as possible. He then told her about finding Sainsbury’s warehouse stacked with food of all sorts. She listened with great interest, adding her own thoughts and suggestions, and they threw ideas back and forth between them. She had some experience of growing fruit and vegetables from previous places she’d lived, when she’d had gardens.
Their talk gradually moved on to more personal things and experiences; the plague, how they’d survived, the loss of family and friends and the awful realisation that there were almost no other survivors. He related the incident in B&Q when the man had threatened him, and the encounter with the other man in Tesco. Jane had lost her mother and both sisters in the weeks before she had become infected. He told her of his awful last conversation with his brother, and how Dave had begged him not to come round. They both got a bit tearful at that point, so he got up to make some coffee. He poured a generous slug of whisky into each mug and handed her one; she smiled in appreciation and raised her mug to him.
‘Listen’, he said, ‘you’re welcome to stay the night here and rest here tomorrow as well, or until you’re feeling better. But… given what’s happened, I’m well-aware that you might not feel comfortable doing that and want to be in your own home. We have, after all, only just met. If you’d rather go back to your place tonight I can drive you back after we’ve eaten.’
She smiled at his understanding, but shook her head. ‘No, it’s alright, really. I feel totally comfortable with you and yes, I’d love to stay the night, thanks. The thought of going back to my flat and being on my own tonight wasn’t a happy one, but I didn’t want to ask or impose.’ She hesitated for a second; ‘To be honest, Jamie, now that I’ve met you I feel a bit guilty for running away that time and for not approaching you on the other occasions I’ve seen you. I was scared, though, and couldn’t bring myself to do it.’