Feet on the Ground
At last the aftershock subsided to a bare tremor. Alan, white as a ghost, the skin on his knuckles almost opaque he had been gripping the edge of the table so hard, finally opened his eyes.
"Oh my God, " he said, "I hope that’s the last one, I can’t stand much more of this."
"Pull yourself together Alan," said Mary externally calm but churning inside, "tremors are a feature of life we have to get used to in these days of global warming."
"But not here in Birmingham, this is the UK, not Alabama."
"And this is the 21st century, you have to face it, times are changing in more ways than one, even the weather is up the wall these days."
"It’s just that you see such terrible things on the TV, people trapped in collapsed buildings for days, rescuers with masks on because of the smell of rotting bodies."
"What ‘s on the TV and what’s here today are two totally different things. We have no damage I can see apart from a few pictures out of place on the wall and dust everywhere." She looked at the dust and continued guiltily, "I just don’t know where that all comes from either."
" Mary I’ll be honest. I’m scared shitless."
"So am I, you stupid, stupid man, but we have just got to carry on as normally as we can otherwise we might as well shoot ourselves before the building collapses on top of us. And then, what if it doesn’t?"
Although Mary finished with a sarcastic tone in her voice she knew that normality had to be resumed as soon as possible otherwise Alan would totally go to pieces.
"So what would you like for your breakfast?" She said, trying to inject spirit into her voice "Cornflakes or toast?"
"I can’t eat," replied Alan, "I’m not hungry, my stomach is all in a knot."
"Well I just hope it never gets to the collapsed building stage because you will be hopeless. A dead loss. I’ll have no hero who will dash up on a white horse to rescue me."
Mary picked up the T.V. remote and tried but there was no response.
"Power must be down," she said, "I’ll try the tranny’."
"There you are, we’re doomed, doomed I tell you." Alan, prickled by the dead loss taunt attempted to laugh as he sought to introduce some cliched TV humour into the situation.
Mary smiled as she reached for the transistor radio, "that’s enough Fraser, but seriously, if the power’s down we are going to freeze, it is the middle of January after all."
The transistor radio clicked into life and the comforting tone of John Humphreys voice filled the room. "…confined to the Smallheath area of Birmingham. Electricity supplies have been interrupted in a few areas. The authorities will issue a statement later. Very little damage has been reported but we will bring any updates as and when they come in."
"There you are," said Mary, "outside this area, everyday life is going on as usual. Now what about that breakfast?"
"I suppose toast will be off the menu if there’s no power so it had better be cornflakes hadn’t it?" said Alan.
Mary breathed an inward sigh of relief and said "Coming up," over her shoulder as she walked to the kitchen.
Suddenly there was a knocking at the window, peering through was Alice, Alan’s sister.
"Come on in, the doors open." shouted Alan eager to be able to share his fears with somebody who might be sympathetic to them.
She came in wrapped up like an Eskimo, rubbing her hands, "Hi, It’s cold out there. I’ve been ringing the bell for ages, I think it’s broken."
"Never mind the damn bell, what’s happening out there?" demanded Alan.
"Well not a lot really, people just standing around talking and acting dramatic as if it was something serious. Bloody hell, I’ve seen more shaking at the Ritz."
Mary chuckled, thank God for `feet on the ground’ attitudes.
