Back home I was too wired to go to bed, so I turned on my computer. I opened google maps, and as the sky slowly lightened, started planning another outing, this time to the cemetery.
The next day I slept in; I hadn’t gone to bed till after sunrise at 5am, so it wasn’t surprising that I slept to mid-afternoon. I was awakened by a knock at the door, and, being half-asleep, had risen and taken several steps before I caught myself. I waited, as they rattled the door handle, calling out for ‘just a little something… whatever you can spare’, hoping they would go away and leave me alone. When they had finally left, I turned on the computer and returned to my research.
The back of the garden centre had a boundary with the cemetery. I checked the ordinance survey maps online, and saw that there was a bit of scrubland between the garden centre boundary and the cemetery proper. I could drive in, walk into the scrub, cut through the fence into the garden centre, and… well I would take it from there.
The next morning I watched out of the window as the cars went by… where were they going? The empty shops? To the closed hospitals? Or were they trying to get to family and friends? I waited until I couldn’t see anyone from my windows, and then left, pushing my wheelbarrow in front of me. I walked casually on the pavement, turning down the side road to get to my car. There was still no-one about, so I opened the boot, folded down the back seats to make more room, and wedged in the wheelbarrow. Sometimes the ignition gave trouble, but as my eyes swivelled left and right, searching, the car roared to life.
I drove round to the cemetery, and turned in. The car park was full, and as I looked around, I saw at least three hearses parked along the roads that crisscrossed the green lawns. This must be where some of the cars had been going. There were small groups of people standing around fresh graves, and there was a large digger working up at the top of the cemetery. I was surprised; with the chaos going on everywhere else it seemed astonishing that the funeral business was carrying on as normal, but I supposed that they were used to dealing with difficult situations, and the dead still needed to be buried. Funeral directors were probably just as important as the police and firemen during an outbreak, and the bodies wouldn’t be infectious, so there were fewer risks than being a doctor or nurse. I drove past one of the hearses and turned my car to the far side of the cemetery. The area I was aiming for was empty. I drove down the paths towards the garden centre and reversed up onto the grass until the boot was at the base of a slight bank.
Out of the car, I was glad I had dressed in thick jeans and walking boots, as the bank was covered in waist high vegetation. I looked around, but there was no one near. I grabbed the pliers and pulled my wheelbarrow out of the boot. Forcing a path up the bank wasn’t hard; luckily it was mostly weeds like rosebay willowherb, rather than nettles or brambles. Beyond the bank was a slight depression in the ground and then the back fence of the garden centre.
So far so good, but this was the point where I moved from law abiding citizen, to trespasser and thief. The fence looked much older on this side. It was green, plastic coated, chain link fencing, held up by posts every six feet. On the other side were the bamboo plants, perfect, if I could get to them. I looked carefully at the wire. I didn’t need to cut a line down through the links; all I needed was to open the link at the top and un-weave one single strand of wire. Then I could roll back the fence and would have a large six-foot gap to go in and out.
I paused, Now that I was standing outside the fence, I was unsure. I had been good all my life; apart from dodging the occasional train fare when I was younger, and a couple of recent speeding tickets, I obeyed the law. What I was going to do was criminal, and I didn’t even know if it was necessary… The government might have organised things by next week, I told myself… There might be food supplies and maybe even a vaccine… And school might even be back open; I might be back at work. I half turned, then straightened and reached up to the first link. I told myself I could stop at any point if it didn’t feel right, but I kept going. It was fiddly work, but after half an hour, the two sides of the fence sprang back from each other and sagged backwards, leaving a two-foot gap.
I pulled three bamboo plants through. They had small pots but were at least eight feet tall. I put them in the wheelbarrow and turned to make my way back. The long stems blocked my view, making it almost impossible to steer over the humps in the ground, but eventually I made it and stowed them in the car.
I paused resting; this area of the cemetery still had no-one in sight. It had been so easy to get the bamboo… maybe I would push my luck, and go back for some bushier plants. I returned to the fence and rolled the opening a bit wider, so I could slip the wheelbarrow in through the gap. Pushing it in front of me, I looked carefully beyond the bamboos to see if anyone was about. It seemed clear, so I moved further into the yard, past the Japanese maples and ferns. I suppose I was distracted by all the plants, but just as I came upon the perfect Red Robin shrub, the noise in the background resolved itself… I could hear kid’s voices. I turned, looking for somewhere to hide. The noises suddenly sharply increased in volume and I heard shrieking and running, and then a girl, primary school age, maybe nine or so, burst into view. She skidded to a stop and stared at me, frozen. Uh-oh.
‘Hi.’ I said, smiling nervously, letting the wheelbarrow fall.
Two smaller boys joined her. They didn’t say anything, just stared. I needed them to not call out, and I was usually good with children; I quickly decided to try a bit of distraction. ‘Which do you think I should get?’ I said, gesturing to the two plants in front of me. ‘I like the red leaves on this one, but the shape of these is lovely.’ The second plant was a castor oil plant with large, bright green, lobed leaves. I touched one of the leaves. ‘What do you think?’ I said again. If I could just get them in conversation, they wouldn’t run off and call for help.
The smallest boy pointed to the red robin shrub. ‘I like this one.’ he said. The other boy immediately pointed to the other plant, ‘No this one is nicer.’ I relaxed ever so slightly. The boys were on-side, but the girl still looked tense. I smiled.
‘You have the deciding vote,’ I said. ‘I like the red robin, but…’ I tailed off, desperately hoping she would say something.
‘Yeah’ she said, ‘it’s nice.’ ‘What are you doing here?’ She asked.
‘I need some plants for the garden.’ I said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, ‘It looked a bit scary at the front, so I came in the back way.’
‘There isn’t a back way.’ she replied firmly.
‘There is a gap in the fence by the bamboo plants.’ I pointed back the way I had come. Luckily, the gap was small, and they might think they had missed it. ‘Could you guys help me lift this?’ I asked, tilting the red robin onto its side. If I could keep them occupied, they wouldn’t run off and tell their parents I was here.
I grasped the pot, and after a second the boy who had chosen the red robin grabbed hold of some leaves as if to help. ‘Thanks,’ I said, after we had manhandled it into the wheelbarrow.
‘My name’s Zoe.’ I brushed my hands on my jeans and held one out towards the other boy who was standing back a little way. Younger kids were always a little perplexed when I shook hands with them. It would help keep them off balance.