‘…Singing Summer of ’69 at the tops of our voices!’ he added, and they both laughed.
They kissed and then walked back through the house to the truck and drove back to the farm. They parked in the yard, walked to the door and went inside. Megan had lit the stove and also the range in the kitchen and the place was warm and cosy, with candles burning on the walls. She was standing there smiling in the green dress she’d been wearing when they met her. Behind her on the wall was a banner she’d made with Sally’s help, which said Welcome to our new home, Mum and Dad! Jamie and Jane smiled and then got tearful, as Megan came over and held them both tightly.
Twenty-eight
When they got up in the morning, having been woken early by the crowing of cocks and cockerels, they weren’t sure what to do with themselves at first. After the sustained activity of recent months they seemed to have come to a sudden stop. Over the last five months at the bungalow they had got into a routine, with regular work and tasks that needed doing every day. Now that all the vegetables had been harvested they had no garden work to attend to, there were no containers to collect salt from and refill every day, and no rabbit snares to check or move around.
Over breakfast they realised they’d forgotten to check the snares the previous day because of the move. They also needed to remove them all from where they had them set as they wouldn’t be visiting that area on a daily basis from now on, so it wouldn’t be right to leave them there.
Obviously, they would soon start helping around the farm with the regular tasks there, such as tending to the animals, maintaining the infrastructure and preparing the land for the planting of new crops when the time came, but nothing had been discussed between them yet. They decided they should keep up their production of sea salt at the bungalow. Although they currently had large stocks of salt, it was still a finite resource that would need to be replenished, so they agreed to go to the bungalow on a two-weekly basis over winter, as time and other jobs allowed.
‘I’ll take Megan and Max to remove the snares,’ said Jane, ‘and then go on to the bungalow to refill the containers in the conservatory with seawater.’
‘Okay; and I’ll go and have a chat with Bill about the stable conversion.’
He put on his coat and boots, kissed them both and then walked off across the yard to see Bill, stopping halfway to stroke the three farm cats that were lounging by one of the barns. They were semi-feral creatures that lived on the farm, sleeping in various places depending on the weather. Although they liked attention and being stroked they wouldn’t be picked up like a domestic cat might, and they helped keep the mice and rat population under control.
Jane put a few things in a bag then put on her Barbour and a woolly hat as it was a bit chilly, and Megan did the same. She took her sawn-off from the gun rack by the door and put extra cartridges in her pockets and in the bag. As an afterthought she also took a long shotgun in case they saw anything worth shooting. Max was already waiting eagerly by the door, wagging his tail.
They drove off in the BMW and on the way Jane changed her mind, deciding to go to the bungalow first and then pick up the snares on the way back. They parked on the drive and went into the rather empty-looking house. Megan got two buckets and they walked down to the beach to fill them, with Max trailing behind. They carried the water back and laid out as many containers as would fit in the conservatory before pouring some water into each. They had found that a typical three-gallon bucket of seawater yielded around twelve ounces of salt and they had gathered a good stock over the last five months.
‘Well, missy,’ said Jane, ‘hopefully when we come back in two weeks it will have evaporated and we’ll have another bag of salt for our store.’
Megan smiled. ‘I think the salt we collect tastes much nicer than the salt we used to get from the supermarket.’
‘Yes, honey, I agree; that’s because it’s rich in iodine and has other trace elements that commercially-produced salt often doesn’t have.’
Megan nodded. ‘Dad said something similar to me when we were down on the beach a while back.’
They called Max in from the garden then left the house and drove away, stopping first at the railway bridge on Westcourt Drive. Jane smiled to herself as she remembered going there with Max to lay their first snares, while he’d still been recovering. They walked along the railway line removing all the snares, but there were no rabbits caught in them. Jane was disappointed but Megan said maybe they’d have better luck at the next place.
They climbed down the embankment to the pavement and were standing by the car when Max barked and then they heard a vehicle, but because of echoes from under the bridge they couldn’t tell where it was coming from. Jane was on her guard instantly; all the more so because she had Megan to protect. She took the sawn-off from her shoulder, cocked both hammers and held it down by her side in her right hand, turning her head each way to listen and watch. She could feel her heart beating faster as adrenaline kicked-in.
At that moment a motorhome turned left into the road from Cooden Drive behind them. It pulled up about twenty feet away and then a man and woman got out of the cab. They waved and said hi then started coming towards them. Max came forward and stood in front of Megan; his hackles were up and he was growling low in his throat.
Jane held her left hand up, palm outwards. ‘Would you mind staying where you are, please, and not coming any closer yet?’
The couple stopped about five yards from them, looking hesitant and glancing at the sawn-off shotgun in her hand.
‘Please;’ said Jane, ‘I don’t mean to be unfriendly or hostile, but could I ask you a few questions first?’
‘Okay,’ said the man. ‘What do you want to know?’
‘Can I ask you about your state of health; are either of you ill or have you had any sickness of any sort?’
The man gave a little smile and relaxed slightly. ‘Well, I can understand your concern, but we’re all fit and healthy. Our two kids are in the back and none of us have been ill.’
‘Thank you,’ said Jane. ‘And could I ask where you’ve come from and when was the last time you had any contact with other people? I’m sorry to ask, but I need to know.’
‘That’s quite alright,’ said the woman. ‘In fact, we should have done the same, I suppose. We left our home near Potters Bar in Hertfordshire nearly two weeks ago to come to live in Bexhill. My cousin lived here, but he and his family died in hospital from the plague. We got stopped at an army checkpoint near Sevenoaks and escorted to a refugee camp near Tunbridge Wells for screening and registration. We were there for ten days and got the all-clear yesterday morning, then arrived here at lunchtime and have moved into my cousin’s house nearby.’
Jane smiled, thanking them, and relaxed somewhat. She patted Max, saying ‘Okay, Max. Good boy!’ Max stopped growling but still looked alert; ready to move at the slightest threat to his family.
‘Great dog you have there,’ said the man. ‘This might be a long-shot, but your name wouldn’t be Jane Roberts, would it?’
Jane was taken aback. ‘Yes it is: how did you know that?’
The man smiled. ‘Well, we met Major Cunningham several times during our stay at the refugee camp. When we told him we were heading for Bexhill he said there was a possibility that we might bump into you and your partner, Jamie. If we did, he asked us to pass on his regards and to say he hopes Megan is doing well. We also met Major Miller a few times, whom I understand you met.’
Jane relaxed further and smiled, thanking them for passing on Cunningham’s message and apologising for the questions. She lifted the sawn-off and un-cocked the hammers then slung it back over her shoulder. The couple relaxed at that and took it as a sign to come forward.