OK here's chapter four. It's a bit of a mess, there are things wrong with it that I basically won't be able to fix until I've written the whole thing and let it sit for a while, but... well, you might as well have a look 
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Deb had about four windows open on the screen and was toggling between them, occaisonally taking gulps from the now nearly empty bottle of Jack Daniels to the right of the screen. 'Trouble with this is that you can't tell what's true and what's bollocks, most of the time,' she muttered. 'And then shit keeps disappearing.'
She spun round in her chair to face us, and rubbed a hand over her face. 'Kids asleep?' she asked. We said that they were. Deb sighed, 'Poor little sods. Well, anyway, at least this shit seems to be staying here, staying in this country. Loads of stuff on Twitter from people everywhere else, trying to find out if their mates are still alive and not sounding like it's happening anywhere outside the UK. But everything here is looking, well, less good. I think anyone who hasn't got out of the country by now has missed the boat on that, as well.''
She went on to explain that the official news sites had nothing much but these static messages about reporting to your nearest control centre, and the most recent stuff was suggesting that ports and airports were closed. She said most of her Facebook friends were just inactive, with more seeming to disappear all the time. Then she showed us the Real World page, which had a load of updates about keeping calm and doing what you're told by your 'superiors' and then the comments attached to it, which were a whole lot of random guff about how this was great, that it was About Time, and all sorts of incoherent rubbish about women knowing their place and feminism Going Too Far and stuff about building a better future that made me feel quite queasy. In fact, I suddenly realised, I did feel more than a little bit queasy. I let out a bit of a burp, then swallowed it back down with a nasty taste in my mouth. Joanna was talking about how some of her neighbours had been interested in Real World, and so many of them had been taking Fredericks health stuff, even her husband Nicky had tried the Muscle Builder. She got a bit tearful at that point, fretting about Nicky and whether he was alive or not, and whether he would be looking for her, and I thought about making some suggestions but then I heard Mikey. He started with a pitiful little call of 'Mummy!' followed by retching, and by the time I'd got to the bedroom he'd thrown up all over himself, and when I'd got him cleaned up and his blanket washed, and thanked something or other that he hadn't puked on the mattress or on Rosemary, my own stomach was in a state of wild revolt and Joanna, coming in again to check on her daughter, was lucky she didn't get a missive from one or both ends of my body.
I'd made a big mistake in picking that chicken for our lunch, at least Deb reckoned that was the cause of the misery Mikey and I endured for the next day. My initial bout of throwing up left me weak and trembling, so I'd politely bowed out of further discussion, got myself undressed and gone to lie down, but the minute I did that, Mikey filled his nappy spectacularly, with wails of distress, , and by the time I'd changed him I was running quite a temperature, and so it went on. Deb and Joanna, having hastily rearranged things in the front room so as to make a nest for Rosemary and clear the sofa for Joanna to sleep on, did relays of bringing buckets and wet cloths and drinks of water to us,at least I think so, everything went into a bit of a blur of stumbling to and from the airbed and the bathroom, dizzy and feverish and evacuating myself from both ends, drifting off to sleep and being woken by Mikey either spewing, shitting explosively or crying with uncomprehending distress. I wasn't really aware that the house was attacked a couple of times, though not seriously: some bashing around in the garden in the small hours of the morning, and someone outside demanding we come out and account for ourselves, but someone who didn't, apparently, sound right at all. Joanna told me later that they'd talked at one point about leaving the two of us and making a run for it, but had worked out rapidly that they were better off staying put, or so she said.
It was shortly after nine on the Thursday that I woke up feeling more like a human being and aware that Mikey had slept through from the previous evening and was now stirring up and asking for breakfast, with no sign of either shits or pukes. I got up and went through to the main room; Deb was sitting by the computer and Joanna was feeding Rosemary.I rubbed my hand over my face and said,'I think we're OK now.' I was still uneasy and confused about the whole state of play, and was going to go on and thank Deb for putting up with us and suggest that Mikey and I went ? well, where? Somewhere. There would have to be somewhere to get to.
'It's working out like it does in the books,' Deb said, not taking her eyes off the screen. 'Out of the cities and into the communes. Already. Shall we go north or south, ladies?'
'North,' Joanna said, around the same time as I said, 'What? Where?' Deb explained, in a slightly condescending fashion, that as far as she could understand from her various internet buddies, people were starting to congregate at places that were set up for self-sufficiency and settling themselves there.
'Happening quite quickly, as well,' she remarked. 'But then lots of people have watched horror films. Have you ever noticed that people actually in horror films never seem to have watched horror films? They never seem to have a clue what they ought to be doing. Obviously, things are fucked here and we're in it for the long haul, so it makes sense to try and find yourself a decent place to set up home in.'
'I'm glad you can see the funny side,' Joanna snapped. We both glanced at her and glanced away. I don't know what Deb was thinking, but it struck me that she and Joanna might have found it a little bit awkard being thrown on each other's company so much.
'Well, we're running low on food,' Deb remarked, pushing herself away from the desk. 'Kizzy, you and Mikey ought to eat something, just grab whatever you fancy from what's there. Then maybe we should try to sort out what we're all going to do next.'
'Mummeee!' Mikey had clearly heard his cue, and come toddling into the hallway, rubbing his eyes. I abandoned the conversation for the time being and went to pick him up; he was damp but didn't smell pooey. There were only three nappies left in the pack I'd liberated, which made me realise that , whatever happened next, we were going to need more supplies. Exploring the kitchen reinforced the idea, it was nearly as bad as mine had been two days ago. Two days. I stopped for a moment and let a shiver run all the way through me, back of the neck to tips of my toes. Two days ago I'd been planning to run to my mum and dad, because I couldn't cope. Now the whole country couldn't cope. By the sound of it, while I'd been waging my own little war on the horrors of Life With No Money, the rest of the UK had been waging some kind of war on itself.
'Mummy! Hungry!' Mikey insisted, and I got as much of a grip as I could, and sorted him out some crackers and cheese and a couple of chocolate biscuits, and the same for myself. There were a couple of opened packs of cold meat in Deb's fridge, but I decided not to risk them on top of the doing we'd already had. Deb didn't have a kitchen table as such, but there was a high stool pushed under the kitchen counter so I sat Mikey on that with a plate of food in front of him, and stood with one arm lightly round him while we ate. I also positioned myself at such an angle that I could hear what Joanna and Deb were saying.
'So do we go and just stock up on stuff and come back here? Or do you want to be rid of us?' That was Joanna, sounding a bit shrill. 'I mean, you've been very kind and everything, but I suppose we are complete strangers really. And those two ? 'She did lower her voice here. 'Well what with them being so sick and everything -' Deb cut in. 'Oh come on, that was food poisoning, you didn't believe all that crap about a plague, did you?'
Joanna again: 'But loads of people were getting ill, the last couple of weeks, everywhere was short-staffed and... well, people were just getting really ill. And look at that man, that one that chased us, he was ill, not just mad or anything, really ill And they were saying on the news about having symptoms ? that's being ill, not being crazy.'
And Deb: 'Yeah, unusual symptoms. Ordinary puking and shitting off bad meat isn't unusual. Those weren't the sort of symptoms. Anyway, I'm not sure we can stay here. We all ought to move on out.'
'Yes but where to? Have you got a plan?' This last was said with a nasty sort of sneer, which made Mikey look uneasily in the direction of the door. He'd eaten up everything I'd found for him, so I gave him the last chocolate biscuit off my own plate and lifted him down, leading him towards the front room. Deb and Joanna stopped talking when they saw us, which I didn't think was all that healthy, but I stiffened my shoulders and gave Mikey's hand a little squeeze. If Deb wanted us to go, even though it didn't sound too much as though she did, then I would have to think of something, but I would think of something. Because of Mikey.
Deb was turning towards us, nothing about her manner suggesting she was going to throw the pair of us ? or the four of us for that matter ? out to fend for ourselves.
'Did you email Roy, by the way? Do you want to?' I was so wrong-footed by the question that I just stood there for a second or two. I'd been in my usual mindset of Not Really Thinking About Roy, and it occurred to me that, actually, given the size and impact of this fucking mess, Roy might have heard about it. He might be worrying about us. He might actually be horribly worried about us. For a moment I felt guilty and ashamed.
'Would you mind?' She gave me a bit of a look and got up from the computer chair. Scooping Mikey onto my lap I quickly checked my Hotmail account: no new messages. I was surprised at the sudden bout of rage that went through me: Roy had always been first and foremost about Roy, and music, and wherever the good times are. I was tempted to send him a blisteringly nasty email about the hell we'd lived through so far, and had actually begun to compose it when Deb leaned over my shoulder. 'I'm not sure how much news is getting through to the States,' she said. 'You ever been there? American news is all about America.' I wasn't really listening to her, I was trying to find a way to say what I wanted to say to Roy. Or even work out what I wanted to say to Roy. We'd never lived together anyway, so I found it hard to imagine what things might have been like if he had been there with us this last few days. I couldn't really picture him repelling all assailants from the top of the steps at Riley Court, he'd have been sitting on the floor, playing his guitar and insisting that they'd go away if we ignored them. Eventually I settled for ' Just letting you know that we are OK, will be in touch soon.'
'So what are we going to do now?' Joanna put in. I noticed for the first time that she was wearing a baggy black Wild Times t-shirt that Deb must have lent her, big enough for her to simply haul down the neckline and pop out a tit to feed her baby, and it occurred to me that my own ropey floral nightie wasn't exactly mountain fresh. Mikey wriggled, wanting to get down and I lowered him to the floor.
'Can't leave without a plan,' Deb was muttering. ' Got to have somewhere to go, obviously.'
She went into the kitchen and reappeared with a fresh bottle of whiskey, which she opened and took a gulp from, without offering it round. Not that I would have wanted any at that hour of the morning, and I very much doubted Joanna would.
'Course, what we really need is transport.' Deb announced. 'What with the kids ? Do you drive, either of you? I haven't done for years.'
'I can't,' I said, feeling suddenly stupid. For most of my adult life, people had suggested that I learn, but I simply hadn't bothered.
'Mind you, we'd have to steal a car anyway. And I have no idea how...' Deb bit her lips, but Joanna was suddenly full of optimism. 'No we don't ? I've got a car. My house isn't that far away, and I could get our things, as well. Rosemary's things, and something to wear. And there's food as well, tins and stuff in the kitchen. And -' She stopped, and shuddered, literally shuddered, it was an all-over thing. 'And, well, if I don't have to go on my own, there's Nicky. I could find out - ' For a moment my mind had gone blank, but then I remembered: her husband. The husband she thought she'd killed after he went for her. Now it was my turn to shudder. Deb was frowning, assessing the risks as she swallowed another mouthful of whiskey.
'OK,' she said, eventually. 'I can't think of a better idea than that. We'll get your car and stuff, and then come back here and work out what to do next. OK, get yourselves dressed, get the kids dressed, let's do it.' She herself, with the run of her own wardrobe, was already sorted; I put my once-smart, now rather crumpled and smelling slightly stale, shirt and trousers back on and Joanna re-donned the tracky bottoms and wellies Deb had got for her in the charity shop raid, keeping on the t-shirt and also borrowing a pair of Deb's socks. Mikey had a clean outfit left from the stuff I'd brought from Riley Court, so I put him in that, then re-packed the rest of our stuff, including some of the things Deb had taken from the charity shop, into the bag.
Before we left, Deb revisited the kitchen and came out with an odd array of utensils; one large carving knife which she proceeded to slip into the inside pocket of her leather jacket, a couple more knives, a hammer and a rolling pin.
She saw my eyes light on it and almost smirked. 'Used to have a boyfriend who was a baker,' she said. 'But, look, we don't know what's out there, or who's out there. Probably not a bad idea to be ready.
What was out there, at least the first obstacle out there, which we hadn't noticed before opening the door, was pouring rain. I had my parka and Mikey his coat and shoes, but there was nothing in the way of rain gear for poor Rosemary ? or Joanna. Deb gave Joanna a dark green hoodie to wear, but Jo was far more concerned about the baby, to be fair. In the end we settled for covering Rosemary in a big bath towel, doubled over and fastened to the buggy's frame with clothes pegs, and tying one of Deb's bandanas on her head, with a couple more tucked in Joanna's pockets to replace the first one when it got soaked through. Rosemary howled dismally as we plodded along the shining wet pavements, and I can't say I blamed her. Joanna hunched over the buggy, I think trying to soothe the baby; Mikey was quiet enough, though he kicked his legs repetitively. I wasn't feeling quite right yet, still a little weak and wobbly after all that upchucking, and the only one who seemed in a chipper sort of mood was Deb.
'Best thing that could happen, really,' she said as we turned towards the precinct. 'This rain. Nothing like rain for keeping arseholes indoors.'
'What about other people, though, people who are all right, just scared?' I ventured, before I could stop myself. 'I mean, we can't be the only ones left, maybe we'll see other people, find out more about what's going on.' Deb widened her eyes. 'Suppose we might, at that.' She didn't say anything more as we drew near the precinct, and I went back to thinking about illness and sickness. Not just because I wasn't feeling brilliant, but because of what I'd overheard. I was sure Deb was right and Mikey and I had been suffering from nothing more than food poisoning, but when I tried to come up with a set definition of what the plague or not-plague actually was, I realised that I actually had no idea. People were just being Not Well. Nothing was being said about what kind of unwellness was happening, not even the basics of whether you should watch out for fever, or rashes, or coughing or even vomiting.
I slowed down as we got to the edge of the precinct, expecting the others would as well, thinking we could go back to the minimarket which at least had nappies, but Joanna was forging ahead. Deb saw where I was looking.
'Better to get the car first and load up afterwards,' she said. I didn't feel too sure about that idea myself, but I didn't fancy arguing the point. After all, if I pissed our companions off, there was nothing to stop them abandoning Mikey and me.
''Home?' Mikey put in at this point. 'Go home Mummy?' I fought back an urge to burst into tears. My poor little boy had recognized the familiar aspect of the manky old precinct after a couple of nights in totally unknown territory, and now he wanted his own safe space back. But his home wasn't safe any more. I wasn't sure if anywhere was. Particularly if it was just the two of us.
'Not now, lovey,' I said gently. 'We're having an adventure. Mikey's going to lots of new places.'
We got across the park without any incidents, though there were one or two heaps in the grass that I just decided not to do more than glance at. The other two either didn't notice them or had chosen, like me, to ignore them.
Drake Manor Park, where Joanna and Rosemary lived ? or had lived ? looked very smart indeed as we drew near it, though when we got right up to the gates it was a touch less impressive. The gates themselves were buckled, as though something had been driven right through them, and the first couple of houses we passed had smashed up stuff and litter all over their gardens. Joanna bent her head over Rosemary's stroller and said nothing, so Deb and I just carried on walking. The rain had finally stopped, and the sun was partway out, but the day still felt a touch oppressive.
The house she led us to looked ordinary enough, curtains in the windows, neat little front garden with a circle of flowerpots stood on flagstones round a central pebble square, and a garage to the side. The front door was shut and locked, though, and somehow I didn't think Joanna, in her original panic-driven flight, had secreted a key about herself.
She saw me look at her and seemed to read my mind.
'We keep a spare one, you know,' she said. 'It should be here, hang on.' She pushed Rosemary's buggy at Deb, who put one hand on it, and shifted one of the pots, which was filled with some droopy orange flowering shrub, liberating a Yale key from underneath it. She'd been quite bright and focussed all the way over here, but she took a couple of steps towards the door and stopped dead. I knew what she was thinking, or at least partly ? this had been her home, where she'd been living happily and comfortably, at least by the look of it, with her husband and her beloved baby daughter. Two days ago she'd run from it, bolting headlong out of the place in her nightie with the baby in her arms, because her husband had attacked her and she'd had to beat the crap out of him just to get away. While there were one or two ex-boyfriends of mine that I could probably have murdered and walked away whistling, I did understand that she was frightened of what she might find if she opened that door.
'Jo, you don't have to do it,' I said, surprising myself. Mikey chose that moment to start clamouring to get out of his buggy, but I shushed him. I thought I could detect something of a smell, something inherently nasty, shit and blood and something else.
'Maybe let me go in first?' Deb suggested. 'In case.. You and Kizzy stay outside with the kids for a moment and let me check?'
Joanna bit her lips and shut her eyes and sort of thrust the key at Deb, then took a step back and reached for Rosemary's stroller. She undid the straps and picked the still-grumbling baby up, holding Rosemary tightly to her.
'Go on then. Please. His name's Nicky, call him when you open the door, please call him.'
Deb did as she asked, unlocking the door and calling 'Nicky? Mr Finton-Scott? Are you there?
I noticed she braced herself across the doorway in a way that stopped either Joanna or I from seeing much round her; though she wasn't fat, she took up a fair bit of space when she wanted to. No one answered her, so she took a step across the threshold, then another. Then she made a little exasperated noise.
'Sorry Jo, but someone's trashed your kitchen. Think you might have had looters in here.'
'What? What the hell? Oh that's not fair!' Joanna almost shouted. She tried to push past Deb, who held her back and turned around, looking at me.
'Kizzy, will you come in with me? Jo, we'll take a quick look round, can you look after the kids?'
Joanna's eyes were wild, she was obviously dying to scream 'But this is MY HOUSE!' at us and anyone else who might be listening, but at the same time she didn't actually want to go inside it at all. I didn't terribly want to leave Mikey with her, either, having got this fairly deeprooted impresion that they didn't much like one another or were at least mutually indifferent. Still, I didn't want to stand in Joanna's somehow depressingly neat and tidy garden fretting about things.
I followed Deb into the hall, seeing in one quick glance that she was right about the kitchen ? the cupboard doors were all open and so was the fridge, there was crockery thrown about the floor along with a broken jar of jam and some packets of herbs and spices. The sitting room, to the left of the hall, looked untouched when I glanced into it, but Deb was already heading up the stairs.
'Mr Scott? Mr Finton-Scott? Nicky?'
He was in the bedroom, in the bed. The upstairs landing and the bedroom did show a few indications of a fight, so there was no reason to doubt Joanna's version of events, but Nicky Finton-Scott had clearly come round, in more ways than one, after she'd left. He'd killed himself with a bottle of gin and the contents of several pill bottles which were lined up neatly on the bedside table and left a note on the other pillow. It was clearly designed to be read by whoever found him, so Deb and I read it.
'It's my fault and I'm putting an end to it. Please tell my wife JOANNA FINTON SCOTT and my daughter ROSEMARY that I love them very much and I hope they got away and are safe. I am not safe and never will be. Jo I don't blame you at all. Kiss Rosemary for me. Whoever finds me please tell them I love them.'
His face was battered, lip split and nose squashed, but it also looked somehow wrong, a strange colour and distorted. I made no claims to be an expert in what happens to us when we die, but surely he'd been dead for less than 48 hours so he shouldn't look that peculiar. There was a wedding picture on the wall, Joanna with her hair all braided up with beads and a fair-haired, pink-cheeked classic Englishman in a morning suit next to her, only just recognisable as the dead man in the bed.
'Bet he's not the only one,' Deb murmured, and then she bent over and pulled the quilt up over his weird mashed face.'Poor bastard.'
When we got back outside, Joanna was bumping Mikey's buggy to and fro while he objected loudly, hugging Rosemary and glancing from side to side.
'Nicky?'
'He's there, but he's dead, Jo,' Deb said, very gently. 'You didn't kill him. It wasn't your fault. But I don't think we should hang around here. Do you want to get anything, or shall we just take the car?'
I had gone straight to Mikey, and having unstrapped him from the buggy I was letting him toddle about in Joanna's poncey front garden, only half-listening. Sorry as I was for the fate of Nicky Finton-Scott, which was only a moderate amount as he had, after all, tried to kill his wife and presumably his baby before he killed himself, I was also fretful about my own son. Mikey was still holding on to Bida as he pottered round the flowerpots, little trousers sagging, and I unslung my backpack in order to change him.
The end of Joanna and Deb's conversation, which I had not been paying much attention to, was that Joanna went upstairs by herself to say her goodbyes to her dead husband and grab some of her things, while Deb was quite literally holding the baby. She came back out into the garden, gently jiggling Rosemary, while I was buttoning Mikey, clean-nappied, back into his clothes.
'Bright little sod, isn't he?' she observed, watching Mikey introduce Bida to a dead geranium or some such. 'It must be even scarier when you have kids, something like this.'
She shook herself a little and turned back towards the house. 'Let's go and see if there's anything left in the kitchen so Jo doesn't have to.'
Mikey, I think, picked up on the word 'kitchen'. 'Hungry, Mummy!' he remarked, so I held his hand and followed Deb inside. From upstairs came the sound of running water, and I reckoned that Joanna must be washing herself, and wondered briefly if it would be totally insensitive to ask if I could do the same. The hall was narrow, leading directly into the kitchen, which kind of opened out from it and was bigger than it had appeared when we'd glanced at it. French windows at the back of it stood wide open, and though we'd seen the signs of trashing and looting, what we didn't see until we were actually into the damned room was the body in the corner. Deb gave a hiss and a step back, nearly squashing Mikey, and I snatched him up instantly.
'Don't let him see, for fucks' sake!' she yelped. I don't know if he saw anything or whether her shock got through to him, but he started to cry and so did Rosemary, and we backed rapidly out, bumping against each other in the hallway.
'Shit,' I muttered, then winced, having always tried not to swear in front of Mikey. Deb and I made it back to the front garden and she sat down on the little stone bench by the birdbath, still cuddling Rosemary to her, closing her eyes. I didn't want to close mine, thinking that what I'd seen would be imprinted on my eyelids, so instead I concentrated on Mikey, setting him on his feet and starting to chatter to him about the leaves and the flowers.
Joanna came out to us a few moments later, lugging a bulging holdall in one hand and carrying a bright pink teddy in the other. She'd changed into jeans, trainers and a pale yellow button-fronted sweater with a lightweight navy raincoat on top, and put her hair up. She looked better than she'd done in all the time I'd known her, and I remember noticing that she had put on both earrings and a bit of makeup, and that it seemed a bit of an odd thing to do, pretty much over her husband's dead body.
Dead body. There was a dead body in her kitchen, too. I thought I might throw up again but my stomach was probably too empty.
'OK,' she said, not making it a question, and then. 'Rosemary, look, here's Teddybaby!' She dumped the holdall on the path and bent over to pick up her daughter, juggling baby and teddy, and Rosemary, like most babies, was instantly distracted by the toy and stopped screaming. Joanna looked at the pair of us. 'You said the kitchen's been looted?'
'Yeah.' Deb got to her feet. 'And, er, one of the looters didn't get away. There's a body in there.' Joanna's eyes widened. 'Maybe we should go now,' I said. 'I don't think there's anything much left in your kitchen.' And I wanted to get the hell away from that house. Car or no car, I wanted to be somewhere else, preferably back at Deb's where there were bars on the windows. We could go back via the precinct and liberate some more food and nappies from the supermarket or something.
Joanna frowned. 'Is the buggy there? Did you see Rosemary's buggy? Only it's a better one and I'd rather take it, and leave that old junkheap.'
We hadn't noticed, and said so, and there was a moment's silence.
'I need my car keys, as well, they'd better be there,' Joanna said firmly. She turned and stepped back across the threshold.
'This is my bloody house. I don't care who's dead in my kitchen, it's my house.' Carrying Rosemary, she stomped back down the hall, and Deb, with a shrug in my direction, followed her. I really didn't want to go in that place again, so I sat down on the bench and let Mikey go on with his explorations of the plant pots. I didn't care for Drake Manor Place at all, but I wasn't yet ready to walk out alone into the great unknown.