Emma Zeth - The Lucky Prepper - A Gardener's Story of Surviving a Pandemic

I finished my last gulp of coffee, ‘Great’ I said, with a large smile, ‘thanks so much.’

In the afternoon I got permission to leave at 4pm… I didn’t really need to, but James had a habit of making snarky remarks if he noticed someone had left before five, even though he knew that everyone worked late into the evenings at home.

I walked briskly down to the clock tower. David was behind the counter as always and greeted me with a jovial bonhomie that was new to our dealings. ‘So I hear great things about you,’ he said with a huge grin, ‘helping the school, making friends, Gordon is very complimentary about your skills.’ I smiled weakly. I wasn’t quite sure where this was going.

‘So… have you thought about coming to some council meetings?’ he continued, ‘we would appreciate someone with your talents.’

…And mouldability I thought, I had been pretending to be utterly compliant and it seemed to be paying dividends.

‘Wow, really?’ I said, trying not to overdo the enthusiasm. ‘I’d love to help if I can, everything is working out so well here,’ I paused ‘I feel bad about Frank, but to be honest, I hadn’t known him for that long, it was just the uncertainty that made me upset.’

David seemed to buy it. His smile, if anything, grew wider. ‘So, what can I help you with today?’ he asked.

I blinked; I had expected him to know already. ‘I wondered if I could get some compost from the allotments’ I said, ‘I’d like to make some raised beds in the garden.’

David picked a form from the top of his pile… was it just coincidence that it was there? Or had he had it ready… did he know what I was there for? I was getting paranoid.

He spent a few seconds filling it in and then signed it and passed it across the counter. ‘There you go, good luck with the fern garden,’ he said, confirming that someone had passed on my conversation with Stephen.

‘Thanks,’ I said. I paused, hand on the form, ‘David, if I wanted to go back, to pick up some seeds and plants from my garden back in London, would that be possible?’

‘David’s smile grew fixed, ‘I’m sorry Zoe, but it’s just too dangerous to let people go wandering around the countryside, and we don’t have the manpower to escort people wherever they want to go.’

‘Yes, but if I was willing to take the risk…’

‘No, I’m sorry… it was in the forms you signed when you applied, once here, you committed to staying for at least two years.’

I nodded, I had read that, but hadn’t thought they would keep us locked in like prisoners.’ I picked up the form off the counter and turned away.

‘Thanks David.’ I said as I left, looking down at what he had written.

David’s signature was striking; bold and angular it crossed half the page. An idea stirred and as I walked home, I glanced at the paper in my hand several times; it might be useful to have a perfect copy of David’s signature.

I didn’t have any tracing paper, but I had studied Geology at university, and part of the course had been field surveying and making geological maps. I had devised a way of copying maps by using a lightbox rigged from a lamp and a glass cupboard door. The kitchen in my new house had similar glass doors and I carefully took one off its hinges. I propped it on a couple of stacks of exercise books and placed the lamp in the space beneath the glass. I placed the form on the glass pane and covered it with a sheet of plain white paper from school. Then, I placed the lamp underneath so the light shone through and highlighted the signature. I traced it carefully, so I had several copies and then tried to work out where to hide them. Eventually I stuffed them in the gap between the TV and the wall.

Saturday was raining heavily. The grey morning made me oversleep and I felt sluggish when I eventually woke up. I had a very brief shower wondering what time the students finished at the allotment. There was an umbrella by the front door and, wearing my waterproofs, I picked it up and stepped out into the rain.

The allotments were accessed via a track off the main road, next to the northern entrance to the town. As I approached the gates, the soldiers stood more rigidly to attention, staring at me, so I waved the form at them and hurriedly turned left and walked down the track. The plots beside me looked well-tended, but there was very little growing; some leeks, kale… I could see some students rolling out some white fleece over some beds. The chain link fence jinked north around the allotment site before continuing west. At the entrance was a large shed, with all the tools used on the allotment. I entered, the sound of the rain loud on the galvanised zinc roof, and showed my form to the lady sitting at a desk behind a computer monitor.

‘I just love gardening,’ I gushed, ‘can I wander around; take a look at what you’re doing?’ I did my best brainless, naïve and innocent impression. I felt bad using it, but there was no doubt that it worked; people found it easy to write me off as harmless. I needed to speak to Ruth and I didn’t want her watching me too closely.

‘Well,’ she hesitated, I beamed at her, ‘I suppose so,’ she said.

There were twenty-four plots, which had been subdivided so each was split into eight smaller areas. There were students everywhere; even the younger ones seemed to be helping. Some had family with them, but others were grimly working in the rain, silent and alone. I strolled around, grateful for my waterproofs and umbrella. Although they all had jackets, I could see that some students were wearing wet jeans. They must have been freezing. I began to be concerned.

‘Morning Miss,’ it was Mark; he at least seemed to be wearing appropriate clothing. He was double digging the soil, which in this weather seemed like madness.

‘What are you doing?’ I asked, ‘Isn’t that difficult?’

‘It’s what I have been assigned’ he said, ‘They assign tasks based on ability, I’m strong so I get the grunt work, it’s probably what I’ll be assigned full time when I finish school.’

I was appalled, Mark was bright in class, he had a natural scientific bent and picked up concepts easily, but his future career was limited to labourer? It seemed a waste of his potential and must have been incredibly frustrating for him. But maybe I had got it wrong; maybe it was a temporary assignment.

‘What do you mean, assign?’ I asked.

‘Everyone in the camp is assigned a job,’ he replied, ‘you were lucky; teaching is a council paid profession so you get a nice house and good salary, and as long as you do what they want, you can have a nice life here.’

Mark dug his spade deep into the ground, then paused leaning on it, looking around the allotment at the kids working away. ‘Young people from outside aren’t so lucky, we are assigned jobs the other kids don’t want, manual jobs in the farms or in the chicken factories.’

‘Ok,’ I said, ‘start at the beginning… I keep hearing references to the council and the soldiers seem to answer to David. What exactly is going on?’

‘You’re better off asking Ruth,’ he said, ‘she can explain it better.’ He looked up across the allotments and at the far end I saw a small figure steadily working away; Ruth.

I meandered over, careful to talk to several other students, asking what would be planted in the beds they were tending, talking about how the courgettes I had grown had turned into marrows when I wasn’t paying attention. How the slugs seemed to maliciously go after crops rather than the weeds. I didn’t need to pretend my interest, but I kept my goal in sight. By the time I had reached Ruth she had finished hoeing the bed. ‘This way,’ she said, indicating the path to the back of the allotment.