Now on alert, I noticed that many of the streets had been blocked off; the local residents seemed to have got together and organised themselves. I wondered what the barricades were there to block; I hadn’t seen any other cars or pedestrians so far; were they to stop people entering the area or to stop people leaving? I drove back, but I didn’t want to give up yet. I would try the route south via the town centre. The area was residential and seemed peaceful, but as I drove, I began to smell smoke. I crested a slight rise and could see, straight ahead, that the shopping centre was on fire. Black smoke billowed from the large green dome of the roof. I slowed to a crawl and stared into the distance, I was still about a mile away, but I could see the orange flicker of flame. I watched dismayed, as the flames leapt higher. I had shopped there for as long as I could remember, bought all my stationery in WHSmith, tried on numerous outfits in TK Maxx, and sat in the cinema with my family and friends. My eyes filled and I blinked rapidly to clear them, swallowing the sudden lump in my throat. I turned around yet again and reluctantly drove back to my bungalow.
Back in my kitchen, I called home again and explained what was going on. I would still go home, but I would do it at night and I would walk there. I worked out a route using google maps, which said it would take at least two hours, and then printed it out just before the electricity turned off.
I slept from 5pm to 2am, and when I woke, the power was back on so I checked the weather forecast. There was a forty percent chance of light rain. I didn’t know if that was a good thing or not; rain would keep people off the streets, but it would be horrible to walk in. If the power in Harrow was off, it would be very dark without streetlights and the clouds and rain would make visibility even worse… but if I couldn’t see much, then people wouldn’t be able to see me either.
I dressed in my waterproof trousers and a gortex coat, and put my hiking boots on. The trousers looked like normal heavy walking trousers but were breathable, waterproof, and windproof, and this outfit would keep me completely dry. The coat and trousers were both a dark navy blue. I gave my brown leather boots a quick coat of black shoe polish to darken them further and then looked at my backpacks. Both of my smaller packs were bright, light colours. One of them even had reflective markings, which was not great for staying out of sight. I would have to do without. I stuffed a small torch in the large thigh pocket on my trousers, put the map in the inner map pocket of my coat, and was ready to go.
I left via the front door, went out to the car, and took my Leki walking stick from under the passenger seat. Bought several years back, when I had sprained my ankle on a walking holiday in Ireland, it lived in the car. Its most recent use had been at my tai chi class, when we had learnt part of the walking stick form. I did tai chi as a meditation and as a social activity; I had learnt the applications of the form, but I very much doubted that I knew it well enough to use it, if I got into trouble.
When I was at university, living in central London, I had joined a martial art class. It seemed only sensible at the time; to learn to defend myself, but I had never needed to use what I had learnt; the confidence it gave me seemed to deter any would-be assailants. Fifteen years later, I hoped I still wouldn’t need it. I had no idea how much I remembered or even if I could hit a person hard enough to hurt them. I was pretty sure that sparring in class was nothing like reality.
I swung the cane thoughtfully, and then put it back under the seat; I felt better with both hands free, and it would probably just get in the way. I paused after closing the car door, and mentally ran through my checklist. I was as prepared as I could be. It was time to go.
The walk to mum’s house was fairly simple. Once I was on the main road it was a straight line south towards the shopping centre, and then I would veer east into Kenton. I started walking, the same route I had taken to the garden centre, but continued past, up to the traffic lights and turning south.
I set a steady pace downhill along the main road and reached a large roundabout after about thirty minutes. The roundabout was in darkness; the power was off; I was now out of Hertfordshire and in the suburbs of London. I paused for a good listen but at 3am there wasn’t anyone about. I made my way slowly round the roundabout, and onto the road heading south.
The wind had died down a bit and gaps in the clouds allowed the moonlight to come and go. When the moon was behind the cloud it was pitch-black and because the pavement jinked in and out around patches of grass verge, I kept losing the path. I walked into a tree trunk, and then, thirty seconds later, a parked car in a driveway. I paused as I rubbed my knee and moved into the middle of the road. It wasn’t like there was any traffic anyway.
I made good time and the rain held off. After about forty minutes I started to smell the acrid scent of smoke… I must have reached the shopping mall but I couldn’t see anything. I waited for the moon to come back out, and then backtracked a little and turned east. I had planned to use some of the side streets, but I missed the first turning so I walked along the deserted main roads until I was almost home. The sky was just beginning to lighten as I turned into mum’s road, and when I knocked on the door, Vik opened it immediately; he had been waiting up for me.
Later in the morning, after mum had cooked breakfast and I had recounted my uneventful trip, I took a deep breath and brought up the subject of food. ‘Mum’, I said, ‘how much food do you actually have?’
‘Oh, don’t you worry; we have plenty,’ she responded, ‘how about you?’ I explained about the veg seedlings in the greenhouse and the extra potatoes I had planted.
‘Mum,’ I said, ‘what happens if you run out of food?’
‘Zoe,’ she replied, ‘you worry too much, we have rice and flour, we can bake, and I have some tomato seedlings and apples in the garden… and anyway, the government will do something, they can’t just do nothing.’ she said with conviction.
‘But mum, what can they do?’
‘They can use the soldiers, there has got to be food somewhere, farmers will have sown crops in the fields, they just need to get it to people’
Maybe mum was right; it seemed only logical. I had been sticking to the main news outlets and the government was still saying that help was coming. However, I was naturally sceptical of the government’s competency and couldn’t let it go. ‘But what if they don’t?’ I said, ‘Everything I’ve ever read or seen on TV says that the best thing to do is get out of the city. To get to somewhere secure and rural, where you can grow food and protect yourself.’
Mum wasn’t impressed, ‘where would we go Z? How would we get there?’ she paused and when I was silent, continued, ‘We’ll be fine here, I’ve got a big garden, I can grow whatever I need’
‘Ok’ I sighed, ‘but what about people like Maria, people who run out of food, you shouldn’t take in people or you won’t have enough food for yourselves’
‘Maria’s my friend,’ she said, ‘If she needs help I’ll give it, we have plenty of room here.’
I gave up. I knew I wouldn’t persuade her any differently and we would only end up arguing. After the power cuts yesterday I was beginning to think things weren’t going to go back to normal any time soon, and if mum was determined to stay, I was better off talking to Vik about fortifying the place and keeping her safe.
Vik and I went round mum’s house making a list of all the improvements he could make. I knew he disliked DIY but was perfectly capable of screwing in extra boards to strengthen doors and barricade windows, if he had to. Then I thought about how I would get home.