“Good Lord, you can’t be serious. No, I’d like a proper roast dinner with all the trimmings.”
“I won’t be long,” Clive said. There was no need to fetch his coat—he’d kept it on because of the cold. He made his way to the door, rolling his eyes at the fact that Mackintosh hadn’t even thought of putting his hand in his well-lined pocket to give him some money.
At first, Clive intended to fetch the man some food—much as it pained him. The problem was, nowhere was open. He’d been too preoccupied to think about the impact of a power cut on the little cafes and restaurants in the area. He was halfway home before he knew it. So it seemed sensible to pop home and check on Olivia before he returned to work.
“Who is it?”
The shrillness of her voice made his heart sink. He had suspected that she might struggle to cope with the change in routine, but he hadn’t expected her to get this anxious. She had twisted the deadbolt so he hadn’t been able to let himself in with his key.
“It’s only me.”
He waited a couple of seconds and then heard the bolt pull back—slowly, like she wasn’t quite sure.
“It’s me, love. Clive.”
The door opened slowly. She appeared sunken into herself. The sight shocked him, even though it probably shouldn’t have after all they’d been through. “Thank goodness. You’ve been gone hours. What did you do after work?”
“Nothing. I’m still on duty.” He sighed and closed the door behind him, making a big show of twisting the deadlock to make her feel secure.
She stared at a spot just beyond his ear. “Why are you home? What’s going on Clive?”
It killed him to see her like this, it really did. There was so much he could have said, but he just shook his head. He was still getting used to the fact that he couldn’t tell her everything like he’d always done in the past.
“What’s happening, Clive? There’s no water. That’s not right, is it? And the gas is out. And the phone. Not that anyone ever rings anymore besides telemarketers.”
He closed his eyes and pulled her into a hug. She stiffened immediately and he pulled away, telling himself it was normal and it wasn’t her fault. “It’s okay, darling,” he muttered, trying to keep his voice calm and even. “Come on. Let’s go sit down and I’ll make you a cuppa.”
“We can’t!” she gasped, struggling for breath as if she’d just run a mile. “The power’s out. How are you going to use the kettle? Clive, I don’t like this. Nothing’s working. It’s not right. Something’s wrong.”
“Everything’s fine,” he whispered, wishing desperately that there was something he could do to pull her back from the brink of panic. He racked his brain to come up with a neat explanation, but it was a struggle because he was deeply unsettled too. “I imagine it’s a more wide-spread outage than we’ve had before. The power cut has probably affected the reservoir and stopped their pumps from working.”
Except, he knew, that any big company worth its salt would have a backup system to use if they lost power.
He closed his eyes. Olivia had finally settled on the couch and stopped worrying at her hands, which gave him some relief. He found it extremely hard to lie to her because she’d always been so clued-in. Sometimes it was too much. But telling her the truth wasn’t an option.
“Don’t worry, love. I’m sure everything is fine.”
Her hands were still shaking, but he sensed she was listening to his reassurances. “Are you sure, Clive?”
“Yes, I’m sure.” He tried not to think of the cars outside. It was lucky she hadn’t seen them. His explanation might have been just about believable if it hadn’t been for the cars. It looked like they’d just cut out on the roads—all cars, not just a specific make and model. He tried not to think about it. “Now, how about that cuppa? I’ll drag up that gas bottle from downstairs and boil some water in a pan. It’ll be just like years ago. What do you say?”
Her eyes were closed, but he saw the trace of a smile on her lips. His heart felt heavy. Thinking about the past was the only thing that offered her any semblance of comfort these days.
It was reaching for his coat that did it. Olivia calmed down enough that they had laughed and joked over tea and biscuits, but as she’d relaxed he’d become more agitated. He was a police officer. He couldn’t stop thinking about the pressure they must be under at the local station. He’d sensed the agitation in people on his walk home and it would only get worse after dark.
“Where are you going?” Olivia’s smile disappeared and she began to worry at her fingernails.
He hunkered down in front of her. “I thought I’d pop down to the station to see how they’re coping.”
“But why? You don’t work at the station. You’re a personal protection officer. The best of the best.” She smiled proudly.
Clive’s heart sank. He hadn’t told her about his effective demotion—and not because he’d been worried she might get upset. It was more to do with him not having the words to explain it.
“I know, love, but I have a feeling they’re under pressure down there.”
“But you’re going to leave me alone. It’ll be dark soon, Clive. What if someone tries to break in?”
He smiled tightly. He hadn’t thought about that before—they were on the first floor, so it wasn’t like someone could come in through the window—but now he reflected on it in the context of the day’s events. Something got into people when the power cut out like this. He remembered trying to use the radio earlier. What was going to happen if there were no police officers out on the streets? Some people would see that as an invitation.
“Okay, look, we’ll have one more cuppa eh? I’ll make you some toast on the gas and then I’ll pop back?”
She stared at him uncertainly.
He sighed. “I have a duty, love.”
“Please,” she whispered.
His stomach lurched. She’d always been such a proud woman, even back when they first met. It had been a big adjustment to see her vulnerable and even then she’d never begged him to do anything. He swallowed, hating himself.
“Okay. You relax now. I’m not going anywhere.”
10. Terry
“Have you got cash, madam?” By now, Terry was just asking the question over and over without even thinking. When she didn’t react, he looked up. There was something familiar about the woman standing in front of him. In her ponytail and exercise clothes, she looked just like countless other well-off young women who’d moved into the area in the last few years. They didn’t usually shop at GrocerySavers though, but maybe Waitrose had run out of avocados and artisan breads. It seemed like that sort of day.
“Yes, I do.”
“I’m going to have to check, I’m afraid.” Where do I know her from?
She raised an eyebrow and then to his great surprise, she reached down into her top and pulled out a roll of twenties.
He cleared his throat, surprised. “I’m sorry. I didn’t…”
She shrugged, stepping forward with the clear intention of wanting to move past him. “It’s alright. Is there anything left in there?”
He frowned. Everyone else was on the verge of panic, but she seemed calm. As if there was nothing weird about this. Then he realised how he knew her. “You’re staying in my block, aren’t you? Rutherford Mansions. Ground floor flat.”
She looked taken aback for the first time. “Yes, that’s right.” She scanned his face blankly before shaking her head. “Sorry, I’m out most of the day. I haven’t really met anyone in the block.”