‘You have a partner Frank?’ I asked astonished, how did I not know this stuff? I was a rubbish friend.
‘I had a partner,’ he responded sadly, ‘he passed away last January,’ He added the vegetable stock to the pan as I continued to stir, ‘we were together 56 years.’
I racked my brains for something tactful to say, ‘I’m so sorry…. I can’t believe I never asked.’ I stirred the rice slowly ‘How did you meet?’
Whilst Frank regaled me with tales of his late partner and the things they would get up to in their rather exciting youth, I rethought my stance on leaving. I would have to go, if only to accompany Frank to the Chilterns to be with his family.
Once we had decided to leave, we were suddenly very busy. We filled out all the forms and soon had allocations at the Chiltern site. I was still cautious so listed my home as mum’s house. Carpenders Park was my safety net; my fall back if the camp didn’t work out. The forms were comprehensive; I told them what was needed to get the house and the job, and kept my application essay simple and short. I was naturally cautious; the new Government didn’t need to know my every secret.
The job was hard to decide on; I was torn between teaching in a school and working on a farm. I had a feeling that large-scale crop growing would be nothing like the gardening I was used to, and I was missing teaching desperately. I wanted to be back in front of a class, I missed the energy and the banter, the adrenaline that came from performing for demanding teenagers, where every second you had to be on the ball. Frank found it easier, everyone had to have a job allocation but people who were retired pre-outbreak could pick a simple admin job, Frank chose a position in the library.
The army were providing transportation from pick up points to the camps. There were no pickup locations inside the M25, the nearest was at 11am every Tuesday on the A41 where it bypassed Berkhamstead. Google maps said it was 15 miles; a five-hour walk. I reckoned that at my speed it would be more like ten and that would be the direct route via Watford. If I bypassed all the populated areas it would take even longer.
We decided to break the journey into two parts, do most of it in the first day, rest overnight, and arrive at the pickup in good time the next day. We used google maps and I had the OS Explorer maps for the Chilterns East and Chilterns North, which showed most of the footpaths we would need. We were missing a section but I laboriously print screened the missing area from the OS mapping tool online.
After examining the possibilities, we settled on Bovingdon as our stop. It had a garden centre with large greenhouses which we hoped to camp at. We didn’t know if there would be empty houses which we could stay in so decided to prepare in case we had to camp outside.
I took out my hiking rucksack and my camping gear. We decided to only take the one tent – mine. Our packs would be too heavy if we carried two of everything. Instead we divided the load between us and just about managed.
I collected the camping stove and some rations from my loft, along with the remaining box of Cornish fudge and the painkillers. The guidance said not to bring very much as we would be given everything we needed when we arrived. I didn’t even bother with a change of clothes, only some spare underwear and a favourite t shirt. I would wear thermals with my technical jacket and trousers to stay warm.
I took the photos I had collected at mums and a USB with everything on my computer. I packed the lifesaver bottle and after debating a while, I stuffed in all my spare seed packets; I might have a garden in my new house. After packing, although my bag felt heavy, I had some room so I unpacked the seeds and wrapped them instead in my favourite blanket in a dry bag and stuffed it in the top; cosy and familiar it would help me feel at home.
I booked the pickup and then went back on the forums. There was still very little information on the settlement camps, just the usual propaganda from the government about ‘places for all’ and a new snippet on a Peoples’ Charter that the government was producing. The survival forum was very thin now. Most people seemed to have left or were no longer posting, but as I read the recent posts, I got the impression that not everyone was wholly convinced by the new system. There was some talk of the restrictions of having to apply for specific jobs. People had got used to being independent and a lot of the original forum members had been self-employed; their own bosses. They weren’t relishing having to go back to working for someone else. I on the other hand, would be only too happy to get back to work and not have to worry about being responsible for everything.
We had timed it well; the pickup was on the Tuesday and it was Sunday. We still had a lot of stored produce and food. The dry goods would last for years so we cached them in my loft in the plastic crates and hid them under the spare duvets and blankets. However, I didn’t want to leave the remaining veg stores and apples to rot in the freezers. In the end, I planted the potatoes in the empty beds and covered them with fleece, just in case I had to come back. I also scattered the remaining carrot seeds from the open pack in the side borders and hand pollinated the apple trees that were just coming into flower. I couldn’t believe that all my work preparing the garden was going to go to waste.
I took the remaining squash, carrots, and apples to the garden centre and left them in my wheelbarrow in front of the gates. I tied a brightly coloured scarf to the metal railings and hoped someone was still there to see it. Once that was done, there was only one thing left to do. I was still hoping that Vik and mum would come and find me, so I left messages for them in the kitchen and written on the front door, then I went for one last bike ride around the estate to say goodbye.
Sunday evening Frank and I ate our last meal, we splurged on all the good stuff; we used most of the remaining oil to fry proper chips and ate it with a tinned steak pie we had been saving and at the end of the meal Frank pulled out a surprise from the fridge; A trifle!
‘I had a small carton of UHT milk in the larder,’ he said, as he spooned it out into two bowls.
‘You’re amazing Frank,’ I said, smiling hugely, I loved trifle. I hoped that the settlement camps had milk and eggs. It was amazing how much it was needed in everyday recipes, cakes, scones, even cereal in the morning. Pre-outbreak I had loved brewing my own rich smooth coffee, drinking it sweet and milky; I had tried to get accustomed to having it black, but it wasn’t the same; the strong milky cup we had that evening was the nicest I’d had since the summer. We arranged to meet in the morning, early, by the tunnel under the railway. Then I went back to have my last sleep in my bungalow and say goodbye to my home.
We were lucky; although it was freezing cold, there was very little wind and the sky was clear. It was 6am, the sun wasn’t up yet but it was light enough to see and as I walked through Carpenders Park, I said a sad goodbye to all the houses that had become so familiar. I reached the bridge and there was Frank, waiting already.
‘Morning,’ I said.
‘Good morning Zoe, how are you?’ he asked.
‘Great,’ I said, ‘it’s a beautiful morning. I paused, ‘I still can’t quite believe we’re leaving.’
‘I know,’ said Frank, ‘I’ve lived here for over fifty years.’
‘We can always come back’ I said, ‘I’ve locked everything up and turned off the gas and water, the house should be ok.’
‘Of course you can,’ said Frank, ‘But the camp sounds well run and I’m sure we’ll meet lots of great people.
‘Yeah,’ I nodded, ‘I’m sure it’ll be fine.’