The Locked Room (Ruth Galloway #14)(27)

‘Ruth?’

Ruth jumps. The voice is so close, almost as if her own thoughts are speaking to her. Then she sees Zoe standing by her back door, also with a glass of wine in her hand.

‘Great minds,’ says Zoe.

‘Yes,’ says Ruth. ‘It’s all rather scary, isn’t it?’

‘I’m actually quite relieved that we’re in lockdown at last,’ says Zoe. ‘Most of the doctors at the surgery think we should have done it weeks ago.’

‘Will you still be going in to work?’ asks Ruth.

‘Yes,’ says Zoe. ‘We’re hoping to do a lot of telephone consultations, but we’ve got pregnant patients, patients with cancer, people with chronic conditions. They’ll still need to see doctors and nurses. Thank goodness we’ve got PPE. There’s a real shortage, you know.’

‘PPE?’ says Ruth. Isn’t that something politicians study at Oxbridge?

‘Personal Protective Equipment,’ says Zoe. ‘Respirators, face masks, aprons, gloves, that sort of thing. We buy directly from the suppliers but there’s so much demand at the moment. The government are talking about ordering centrally but it’s already too late for that.’

It’s beginning to dawn on Ruth that everything is happening too late. Her worries about wine and cat food start to seem embarrassingly insignificant.

‘I’m only in work three days a week though,’ says Zoe, ‘so, if you need anything, just call me.’

She uses almost the same words as Nelson but, unlike Nelson, Zoe is actually here, on the other side of the garden fence.

‘That’s very kind,’ says Ruth. ‘I need to go shopping tomorrow. Can I get you anything?’

‘I’m OK,’ says Zoe. ‘I did a big shop last week. Are you taking Kate with you?’

‘I don’t think so. All the advice says to shop alone.’

‘I’m home tomorrow,’ says Zoe. ‘I’ll keep an ear out for her. Just text me when you’re going. What’s your number? I’ll send you mine.’

‘Thank you,’ says Ruth. ‘If you’re around, I’d feel happier.’

‘I’ll be here,’ says Zoe.





Chapter 14


Nelson’s drive to work feels very strange, almost surreal, as if in a dream world where everything is the same yet subtly different. Nelson often dreams about driving and usually it involves not being able to get to where he wants to be, hampered by road-blocks and traffic jams and Norfolk drivers in Nissan Micras. But, today, the roads are almost completely empty. Nelson finds himself gliding through junctions where, normally, he’d be grinding his teeth and accusing other drivers of being followers of Onan. When he has to stop at a red light, it seems almost like a bizarre ritual. There are no commuters, no children jostling for school buses, no taxis, no old men in hats driving in the centre of the road. It should feel like heaven but, as Nelson drives through the old city gates, he’s reminded of science fiction films where towns have been taken over by lizard people or filled with replicants. If this is the future, he doesn’t like it.

His day had started with a call from the dog walker, Maura. Was she still allowed to work for him? Was she a key worker? Nelson hastily assured Maura that she was but he thought he might have to make alternative arrangements for Bruno. He has no idea how busy he’ll be and maybe he shouldn’t be encouraging Maura to come to the house. The thought of being locked down without Bruno makes him feel even more depressed as he climbs the stairs to his office.

Even here, everything has changed. The cleaners have been hard at work and the clump of desks in the open-plan area has been wrenched apart and the furniture placed at strategic intervals, reminding Nelson of a game that he’d played as a child with his sisters where you have to get across the room without stepping on the floor. There are arrows indicating the way that you should walk to the loos and kitchen. Judy is standing in the middle of the room. She’s wearing a black mask which looks shockingly wrong, as if she’s been gagged.

‘Hi, boss,’ she says. Her voice is, at least, unchanged.

‘Should we be wearing masks?’ Nelson has a pack in his office. He must remember to send some to Ruth.

‘Cathbad says it’s a good idea to wear one inside,’ says Judy, ‘so I thought I’d get used to it. It’s very strange. I keep thinking that I can’t see or hear with it on.’

‘Is Cathbad in charge of Covid regulations now?’

‘Well, he is a scientist,’ says Judy. Her tone is defensive but it’s strangely hard to tell with the mask on.

He was a scientist, thinks Nelson. Now he’s a freelance druid. But he doesn’t say this aloud.

‘Team meeting when everyone gets in,’ he says.

‘Jo says we should only have Zoom meetings from now on.’

‘What the hell’s zoom?’

‘Didn’t you read her email?’

Nelson lets his silence answer this.

‘It’s a video conferencing platform,’ says Judy. ‘A bit like FaceTime on your phone.’

Nelson’s grown-up daughters like to use FaceTime. Nelson prefers a phone call. He rang both girls last night. Rebecca, living in Brighton with her boyfriend Asif, sounded quite upbeat about lockdown. They would both work from home and go for long walks by the sea. They might even get a dog. Laura, a primary school teacher living in King’s Lynn, was more nervous. She wasn’t sure how she could teach eight-year-olds online. She wasn’t sure how she’d get on with her flatmates when they were all in the house all day. It’s going to be one of the hardest things, thinks Nelson, being so close to Laura and not being able to see her. It’ll be hard for Michelle too, he knows. She’ll feel torn between her mother and her daughters. Even so, says a little voice in Nelson’s head, it’s strange for Michelle to have stayed away so long. She could have come home before lockdown was announced. Now she’s trapped in Blackpool.