The Write Way to Die by Jo Bavington-Jones

Author:Jo Bavington-Jones
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: crime thriller;crime novel;murder story;writing club
Publisher: The Conrad Press
Published: 2021-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 21

Fingerprints

I’m really impressed by John’s story and impatient for Monday to arrive so we can talk about it. I send John a quick ‘Loved your story’ message, although I’m sure he won’t be as anxious as Jenny and Pippa, waiting for the verdict.

The amazing weather continues and my days drift in a strange, seamless oneness of writing and sunbathing. Both tan and book are developing nicely, but I’m starting to feel the isolation more and more. Lockdown shows no sign of being relaxed as we all do our bit to protect the NHS from being overwhelmed. I force myself to watch the government’s daily briefing at least once a week, but very little changes day by day. And I find myself screaming at the television when the journalists come on and ask stupid bloody questions, that have either already been answered or are simply seeking blame. It’s a learning curve for everyone, and I have now learnt to switch off before the questions. The Prime Minister is in intensive care, and the four-thousand-bed Nightingale Hospital has opened in London. The daily death rate rises alarmingly every day, and the death toll has exceeded five thousand. It’s scary.

We’ve heard from Tom’s wife that he remains seriously ill, but has so far held his own and not had to be put on a ventilator. We’re all praying that he continues to fight this bloody virus. I think of Cheryl often, and how awful it must be for her. She must be beside herself with worry. She should be beside her husband. Their situation makes the next Thursday night clap all the more poignant, and it’s gratifying to hear the claps and cheers from around the village. Hang in there, Tom, we’re all rooting for you.

By the following Monday, April 13, the death toll has risen to over ten thousand, but we’re being told we still haven’t hit the peak of the pandemic. Thankfully, Boris is out of hospital though. The strangeness of the time is highlighted by a broadcast from the Queen, as well as her first ever Easter message.

It’s a gloomy bunch of faces that greets me when I join the Zoom meeting.

‘Hey, all,’ I open with a sad smile. ‘How’s everyone doing?’

A few quiet ‘Hey, Amy’s’ echo round my screen. No one seems in a hurry to speak though. Finally, Pippa breaks the silence.

‘Did you all hear from Cheryl this week? It sounds as though Tom’s battling bravely.’

‘Yes, poor Cheryl, it must be awful just waiting for news all the time,’ I say.

‘Tom’s a fighter. I do believe if he can stay off a ventilator, he’ll see this ruddy virus off,’ John says.

‘God, I hope so. I just want him back with us, and being his lovely jolly self again,’ Jenny adds with a sad smile.

‘Amen to that,’ I agree.

‘You’ve got to admit, though, it is easier to get a word in edgeways without him here. He could talk for England.’ This from Robert. And in the past tense. As if he’s never coming back.

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