BooksBarbecue
Back The Hollows
Chapters (77)
  1. Front Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Copyright Page
  4. Dedication
  5. PART I
  6. 1.
  7. 2.
  8. 3.
  9. 4.
  10. 5.
  11. 6.
  12. 7.
  13. 8.
  14. PART II
  15. 9.
  16. 10.
  17. 11.
  18. 12.
  19. 13.
  20. 14.
  21. 15.
  22. 16.
  23. 17.
  24. 18.
  25. 19.
  26. 20.
  27. 21.
  28. 22.
  29. 23.
  30. 24.
  31. 25.
  32. 26.
  33. 27.
  34. 28.
  35. 29.
  36. 30.
  37. 31.
  38. 32.
  39. 33.
  40. 34.
  41. 35.
  42. 36.
  43. PART III
  44. 37.
  45. 38.
  46. 39.
  47. 40.
  48. 41.
  49. 42.
  50. 43.
  51. 44.
  52. 45.
  53. 46.
  54. 47.
  55. 48.
  56. 49.
  57. 50.
  58. 51.
  59. 52.
  60. 53.
  61. 54.
  62. 55.
  63. 56.
  64. 57.
  65. 58.
  66. 59.
  67. 60.
  68. 61.
  69. 62.
  70. 63.
  71. 64.
  72. 65.
  73. PART IV
  74. 66.
  75. 67.
  76. 68.
  77. Acknowledgements

The Bedlington licked Ellie’s face; she put her arm around him. He likes you. She stroked his fur and he nuzzled her; after a little while, he put his head in her lap and shut his eyes. “Yeah,” she muttered. “You get your head down, little fella. One of us should.”

She still felt choked, but the worst of the crying jag had passed. Ellie wiped her eyes on her sleeve and breathed out: she’d kept her promise. She’d have to decide what to do about Shona and the Jack Russell. The ground was frozen, it would take time to bury them, and she still had the living to consider and she’d have to attend to them. But not just yet.

Remembering the printouts, she unzipped her jacket. They’d been folded in half and pressed flat; smoothing them out and keeping them smoothed was something of an operation, but she managed. In her lap, Reuben stirred, then settled again. Ellie took a deep breath, and began to read.

42.

42.

The owners of the High Street’s corner shop – which wasn’t on any actual corner, despite the name – were missing, but Plant-Pot and his family had survived and had got to work sourcing whatever supplies Milly needed. The corner shop had stayed in business, even with the Co-Op a couple of doors down, by being a well-stocked general store and contained extensive winter supplies, blankets and hot water bottles in particular: a good job from Milly’s point of view, as cold and shock were her biggest enemies just now.

They also yielded camping stoves and hob kettles – a godsend as the Assemblies church’s tea urns were electric and therefore useless – and a wide range of beverages, a detail Milly found borderline hilarious: It’s probably the end of the world; do you want tea, coffee, hot chocolate or cup-a-soup? We’ve got chicken, oxtail, country veg or minestrone. No, I’ve no fucking idea if the country veg is suitable for vegans. Or gluten-free.

They’d need proper heating soon, though. And proper, solid hot food. Dried noodles would be the best they could manage for now; the kettles would be melting at this rate. Or, more likely, camping stoves would run out of gas.

Well, one thing at a time. Treat everyone who needed it. Feed and shelter everyone, best she could. Then work out what came next. Talk to Ellie, whenever she showed up again – let it be soon, Lord, I can use the help.

“Milly?” Chris Brailsford nudged her. “Thought you might want these.”

A packet of John Player Specials and a disposable lighter. “Get thee behind me, Satan,” Milly muttered, but took them anyway. “Ta, cock.”

She looked around the church. Things seemed on an even keel: half a dozen volunteers were now helping out, and nobody was left waiting in line. She could, Milly decided, allow herself the quickest of breaks.