Lockdown – Day Ten (continued again)
Hi everyone. Hope you had a fun Easter break in whatever state of lockdown/isolation you happen to be living in at present. In case you’ve been on tenterhooks all weekend awaiting this instalment, I hope it lives up to expectations…we can finally get to Day Eleven tomorrow!
[image error]Photo by Marcelo Chagas on Pexels.com
DAY TEN (continued again)
Sarah
I like Rebecca. She’s nice. It seems like so long since I had someone I can relate to and who appears to have motivation outside of just herself. I miss my mum a lot. I miss my brother too.
I’m relieved we’ve found a house at last. The weather can change so fast around here that the last place you want to be is without a roof over your head at night, or during the day for that matter. When it rains, it pours. That seems a more appropriate adage than ever after recent months.
When we finally catch him up, John has dropped the bags and is standing in the middle of the driveway, staring fixedly at the house. He doesn’t turn around as we approach.
“Please?” he asks.
Rebecca and I see the object of his focus together, Rebecca pushes me to the side of the drive and tells me with some urgency to “Get down.”
Two barrels of a shotgun protrude from the gap in the doorway. I can’t see a face behind it but I can hear the voice. It’s a man’s voice, maybe a little older judging by a slightly frail element.
“Why should I help you? You could kill me in my sleep!” the voice argues.
“You can see there are three of us just like I said before. We are only asking for a roof for the night and maybe some food and water if you have some you can spare? Please?” John asks.
The doorway remains silent. The shotgun remains steady. I remain low to the ground away from John and Rebecca. Rebecca is partially hidden behind a rhododendron bush and gesticulating for me to stay where I am. I’ve only just noticed the horses, one a large female with chestnut coat and a white stripe down her nose, the other is a smaller grey pony; I guess they’re friends. A big smile must’ve crossed my face and I stand up, moving to the animals. The larger horse approaches me, maybe looking for food. I offer my hand so it can smell me – it huffs onto me and stamps it front foot on the ground, maybe saying “Feed me.”
“Get away from there!” the doorway shouts.
“I love horses, sorry.” I continue to smile. “Can I help you clean and feed them?”
The door opens a little more and the face of an older man leans out, “What?”
“I can help you, if you like.” I hope he says yes. It’s years since I last touched a horse.
The gun lowers a little and the door opens. The man is on crutches. He has a long white beard and his hair is a bit of a mess. He is wearing a vest, showing a number of tattoos, presumably from days as part of a motorcycle gang.
He faces changes from stern to more relaxed, “OK, I guess I could use a little help for a change. You can all sleep in the guest room if you don’t mind being together. I’ll have to lock the bedroom door though to be on the safe side. I guess I can stretch to food and water.”
He smiles, “My name is Cliff. Bring your stuff in and we can get settled. Sorry for the gun, I can’t be too careful these days.”
John
Phew. What a relief. I thought he was going to shoot. Now that we are settled, Cliff seems nice enough. He’s been on crutches since twisting his ankle a few weeks back. Lucky for him he had the crutches; apparently they had kept them after his wife had broken her foot some years previously. He tells us she died from the virus.
“Sorry,” I offer.
He looks sad for a moment, haunted, “It’s OK now, but part of me still wishes I had gone too. I don’t even know if my kids are still alive, they both live in Australia.”
“Sorry we can’t do more to help. We’re only here for the night, we’re looking for Rebecca’s parents.”
“One day of help is better than nothing. What are your parents called?” he asks Rebecca.
“Bill and Jennifer,” Rebecca says. I don’t think she entirely trusts Cliff so her words are clipped.
“Potter?” he asks.
Rebecca nods.
“I’ve met them. Nice people.”
You have to love New Zealand sometimes. It’s the world’s biggest village. Everybody knows everybody if they can, if only so it can fuel the gossip. Her parents are another ten kilometres away at least.
“Thank you,” she says, relaxing a little.
“I guess if you made it, maybe they did too. Assuming survival is genetic.”
With that, he suddenly seems to make a decision and struggles to his feet, “Right, let’s sort out those horses before it gets dark, shall we?”
He then adds to Rebecca and I, “Hope you’re good at preparing meat.”
Sarah beams with delight and they go outside together with Cliff supervising. Rebecca and I are on cooking duties. Cliff must have a thriving vegetable patch here because we almost feel spoilt for choice. He even has a chicken which needs plucking. We guess there is a first time for everything but get to work. We can’t believe it.
The rest of the evening is spent peacefully, trying to avoid talking about the past but instead the future, though even that is vague; it’s just not clear if anyone really has such a thing to look forward to. We ask if Cliff would like to journey with us but he’s not inclined to leave, especially with his ankle being how it is.
When night comes, Cliff follows his word and locks the three of us into a guest room. Rebecca is very uncomfortable with this arrangement but we don’t really have any choice. Rebecca and Sarah share the bed; I have a spare mattress on the floor. It’s cosy enough though. Let’s hope he remembers to unlock the room in the morning.
