An Ordinary Epidemic Read Free Page A

Brunswick green and Indian red on their side abruptly changed to a particularly powdery shade of lavender on Gwen’s. Otherwise, they were mirrors.
    As she walked through the front door, she could hear the happiness in Oscar’s high voice, carried all the way from the back. Sunlight through the kitchen window washed the room in a golden glow. At the stove, Sean leant over a sandwich toasting in the frying pan.
    â€˜You call that breakfast?’
    â€˜I see four food groups here, if you count fat.’ He lifted the corner of the sandwich with a spatula and a trickle of melted cheese oozed out. ‘I’ll make you one if you’re nice to me.’
    She planted a swift kiss on his cheek. ‘Will that do?’
    â€˜Payment in full.’
    The top half of the room was warm and humid, filled with steam from the kettle, but air from outside still crept in under the back door. Oscar sat at the table in his frog-covered flannelette pyjamas, one size too big, still just young enough not to think they were uncool. He had rosy spots on his cheeks but his naked feet were pinched with cold.
    â€˜Did you see him leave? We wouldn’t want him to sneak back.’ Sean winked at Oscar, who giggled.
    â€˜He was fine. The bus was late but they eventually left.’
    â€˜And no one was panicking. They breathed in, they breathed out, the world is the same as it was yesterday, isn’t it?’ She chose to ignore him. ‘Isn’t it? Oscar, ask Mummy if the world has changed.’ ‘Mummy, has the world...’ ‘No, it hasn’t, the world hasn’t changed.’ She begrudged him a smile. ‘No disaster struck, the bus left, everything is the same. Today. But tomorrow...’
    â€˜Tomorrow is tomorrow. Today, nothing has changed.’ He slid her toasted sandwich onto a plate and held it out to her. ‘Breathe. You’re the only one panicking, he’s fine.’ He stoppedwith the spatula hovering over his sandwich. ‘What date is it?’
    â€˜The fifth.’
    â€˜Are you sure? Crap, I missed my sister’s birthday.’
    â€˜It’s still yesterday there.’
    â€˜I’ll ring her from work. What’s the time difference?’
    â€˜I don’t know. Day is night, use the internet.’

    She got to the hospital just before her appointment time. The main building was new—all glass and exposed concrete. Wide public spaces that meant you might be on time when you arrived on the grounds but were late by the time you walked through the front door.
    Her doctor was housed in a side wing, an old building that had somehow escaped being knocked down. Its entrance was homier, less grand than the main entrance but today it was covered by a large red X of electrical tape, holding in place a sign that read ‘Clinic open. Use main entrance.’
    The main entrance was impersonal and, regardless of the weather or the signs forbidding smoking within ten metres of the doors, there was always a knot of gowned patients, cigarettes in hand, just to one side. As she reached the edifice, she noticed that the contingent was larger than usual and all gathered around one door, the only door that wasn’t covered with more red tape. Thicker smoke to walk through.
    The crowd jostled for position in front of a harried individual wearing a hi-vis vest. A disgruntled woman walking past Hannah said, ‘They tell me I can’t see my brand new grandchild. What a lot of nonsense over nothing.’
    It became clear as Hannah waded into the crowd that it formed a kind of disordered line. The man in the vest held up his hand to the person in front, who seemed to be berating him, and called out, ‘Anyone with an appointment?’ Hannahput up her hand tentatively. ‘Fill in the form then go to one of the desks inside.’ He went back to his argument.
    The form consisted of a plain A4 page printed in black. ‘Do you have an appointment