Last of the Living

1

1GABBY

SATURDAY 9 MAY – 11:38am

And I ’ m just looking at him thinking, did you really just say that? ‘ It ’ s a pair of bloody supermarket leggings, Stu, that ’ s all. ’

‘ No, it ’ s three pairs of supermarket leggings. Do you really need three pairs? ’

‘ Yes, I really need three pairs. They ’ re comfortable. I ’ ve been living in leggings since the baby and mine are all worn out. ’

‘ I get that, but three pairs? You know how tight money ’ s been since we moved. I ’ m just thinking that —’

‘ I know exactly how tight money ’ s been. It ’ s all you ever talk about. The cost of living this, the cost of living that... you ’ re like a broken bloody record. ’

‘ Not in front of Sally, love. ’

‘ You bought yourself a load of work shirts last weekend. ’

‘ Yes, but that ’ s different. ’

‘ Different? How? ’

Sometimes I just give up. He means well, but Christ, he does my head in. I don ’ t give him any chance to answer, I just shove three pairs of leggings into the trolley and push it away. Give him thirty seconds and he ’ ll have caught up and he ’ ll be grovelling. I know how his mind works.

‘ I ’ m sorry, Gab, ’ he says, alongside me again now, arms full of baby. ‘ It ’ s just I ’ m under a lot of pressure at work and I ’ m worried about money and —’

‘ And I know. You make it sound like I ’ m extravagant and I ’ m not. I don ’ t want three pairs of leggings, I need them. Believe me, I ’ d rather not be shopping for clothes in the supermarket. ’

‘ I know. Look, things ’ ll settle down in a few more months. Once the Harvest project ’ s done and dusted and the O ’ Rourke contract ’ s finalised I ’ ll get a decent pay-out. First thing we ’ ll do is go into town and have a spend-up. We ’ ll get Hannah and Sally kitted out, get Nathan the trainers he ’ s on about... ’

A drunk-looking woman comes through the automatic doors, straight across the front of the trolley, not looking where she ’ s going. I almost hit her. ‘ Don ’ t mind me, ’ I shout. She just ignores me, heading straight for the booze.

‘ Pissed before lunchtime, ’ Stuart says disapprovingly, shaking his head like a typical old dad.

‘ What time ’ s Nathan ’ s football training finish? ’

He looks at his watch as if it ’ s going to tell him. ‘ Half-twelve. ’

‘ And what time is it now? ’

‘ Quarter to. ’

‘ Then we ’ d better get a move on. ’

Shopping with Stu is a pain in the backside. Everything takes twice as long as it should. I do the food shop every week, but it ’ s like a bloody adventure for him. I go straight for the stuff I always buy, but he ’ s always looking for alternatives, trying to find a cheaper option. He ’ s at it already with the bloody potatoes. ‘ But you can get two packs for three pound fifty. We ’ ll save seventy pence if we buy two. ’

‘ But we won ’ t use two, will we? We won ’ t get through both packs before they go out of date. You ’ re not saving seventy pence, you ’ re wasting twice that. Don ’ t you get it? ’

He ’ s not convinced. I ’ m thinking he ’ s about to start trying to tell me how I should cook more potatoes to make things cost-effective when Hannah starts grumbling for her bottle and Sally pulls me over towards the sweets. I ’ m glad of the distraction. ‘ Can I have some chocolate, Mummy? ’ Sally asks, and I can feel Stuart on my shoulder, ready to launch into another tirade, but I ’ m not having it.

‘ Of course you can, love. What would you like? ’

I glance back and see him struggling with the baby, and the chocolate ’ s chosen and in the trolley before he can protest. I push on to the next aisle before he can start.

Wait.

This doesn ’ t feel right.

I can hear something.

You don ’ t realise the normal soundtrack you hear in places like this until it ’ s disturbed. The kids, the trolleys, the conversations, the music... they ’ ve all just been silenced. There ’ s a weird, uncomfortable quiet now. Stu ’ s noticed it too. We just look at each other and he shrugs.

Around the corner and into the next aisle and we see it. That drunk woman is kicking off. I try to distract Sally but it ’ s too late and she ’ s seen her. ‘ What ’ s wrong with that lady, Mummy? ’

‘ I don ’ t know, love. Perhaps she ’ s not well. Maybe she just feels a little bit sick. ’

I look at Stu again, both of us instinctively keeping it light and airy so Sal doesn ’ t get scared. This isn ’ t good. I can still hear noise elsewhere in the store, but it ’ s all dwindling down to nothing as more and more people become aware of what ’ s happening. The woman ’ s having some kind of convulsion it looks like, a full-blown fit. A couple of staff are trying to get to her but they ’ re struggling to get through the onlookers and their massed trolleys and baskets. There ’ s a PA announcement for the duty first aider.

‘ They don ’ t need a duty first aider, ’ Stu says. ‘ They just need to hang her out to dry somewhere. ’

There ’ s a security man, a young girl and a slightly older guy around the woman now, trying to hold back the crowds. They ’ re doing what they can, but they ’ re just part-time folks here to stack shelves and stocktake, and I can see them all desperately looking for the first aider so they can pass the buck. To be fair, I ’ d be the same on their wages. Another woman in a supermarket uniform brushes past us and I see the young girl look up and make eye contact with her, immediately jumping to her feet and calling her over.

Believe me, I ’ m not one of those people who stands and stares at accidents. I make a conscious effort not to look when we see crashes on the motorway and get slowed down by all the other foul rubber-neckers. But the thing is, we can ’ t move here. There are shoppers in front and behind now and we ’ re trapped. The security man is trying to move people back to give the woman on the floor some space but it ’ s not easy. He has to shout over the heads of the people at the front so that those near the back can move first, but there are still more people crowding into this aisle than there are going the other way. I doubt half of them even know what ’ s happening. All the half-full trolleys make it virtually impossible to move, bunched up tight together. I pick Sally up and put her in my trolley with the shopping to get her out of the way. She protests, but a piece of chocolate shuts her up fast.

I can see the woman on the floor now through a gap that opens up in the crowd. Bloody hell, that ’ s horrible. She ’ s just lying there, facedown on the marble, mouth hanging wide open, eyes staring into space. I don ’ t think she ’ s conscious. Is she dead?

This is just like the reports we ’ ve seen on TV.

‘ We need to go, ’ Stu says, thinking the exact same thing. ‘ I reckon she ’ s got it. ’

He starts trying to move back, holding onto Hannah with one hand, pulling at my arm with the other. But there ’ s no way out, not until a few more of these bloody idiots shift. Hard as we push back, they ’ re still pushing forward.

Now the security guy ’ s getting shirty, but he can ’ t see we ’ re stuck here. Someone has a go at him and I ’ m thinking this is going to get nasty if we ’ re not careful. I just want to finish the shopping then get out of here and go pick up Nathan from football. I knew I should have done this yesterday. Bloody Stuart. If he hadn ’ t insisted on coming with me today then we —

Wait.

A second ago I thought that woman was dead. Now she ’ s moving again.

‘ See that? ’ Stu says, grabbing my arm even harder.

‘ I see it. But she was —’

‘ But nothing. I swear, she ’ s got it. They collapse, then they get up again. ’

There ’ s a collective scream. Loads of people try to run when the woman moves suddenly. She rolls over onto her back, quick as you like, then starts clawing at the floor with her fingers like she ’ s trying to get a grip. The first aider ’ s here, but even she ’ s keeping her distance.

‘ We need to go, ’ Stuart says, pulling me away. It hurts and I yelp with pain. I try to tell him to stop but he ’ s as scared as I am. ‘ f**k me... ’ he says.

The woman who ’ d collapsed has attacked the young girl in the supermarket uniform. She ’ s got her pressed up against the shelves now and there are tins and packets of food flying everywhere as the girl tries to fight her off, but the woman ’ s all over her. Bloody hell, even the security guard can ’ t drag her away. She ’ s got her arms and legs wrapped around the girl, their faces just inches apart.

Oh, God.

Now we ’ re being pushed back faster than we can walk, everyone trying to get away at once. The woman ’ s dragged the girl onto the floor now and she ’ s on top of her. Jesus... she ’ s vomiting into her face. Dirty brown gunk. It ’ s blood or sick or germ-filled spit... Christ, that ’ s foul.

I try to untangle the trolley. It ’ s caught up with someone else ’ s.

‘ Leave it, ’ Stuart says.

‘ But what about the shopping? ’

‘ Pick Sally up and just leave it, ’ he says again. ‘ Now! ’