An Ordinary Epidemic Read Online Free PDF Page A

put it in Oscar’s other hand, cupping it with hers. Oscar had popped the jube in his mouth before Hannah got a word out.
    Lily’s hand had held the coins that Hannah had given her, that Hannah had got from who knows where, that had been held by who knows who, like all the other coins and notes Lily had handled today. And the jube. She didn’t want to think how many children’s hands had gone into the jube jar even in the last few hours.
    Lily watched her looking at Oscar. ‘Every day more cases. You make sure you look after this boy.’
    Hannah walked the rest of the block and around the corner as if the disease were on her heels. Oscar ran ahead, pulled by the chocolate he couldn’t quite have. It was safely unobtainable, in her pocket. He’d never been so eager to wash his hands.
    As they came through the front door, Oscar suddenly said, ‘Why is she Jesus?’
    â€˜I don’t know. I guess she thinks she is.’ Oscar seemed satisfied and ran to the bathroom, leaving his backpack, his hat and his fleece dotted down the hall. Hannah let the front door fall back behind her. It closed with a reassuring click.
    Oscar came rocketing back up the hall, his hands held out. ‘They’re clean.’
    She looked at the water dripping off them. ‘You have to dry them, germs like water. You gave them a big pool.’
    â€˜Okay.’ He was already halfway back down the hall.
    â€˜And pick up your stuff and put it in your room.’ Oscar was gone. ‘After you eat the chocolate.’
    He was back again, hands wiped but still damp. Holding the bar at the bottom, with the other hand she carefully peeled it like a banana so that the wrapper never touched the chocolate.
    Oscar grabbed it and ran off again, ‘Thanks Mum,’ hanging in the air behind him.
    She heard sounds from the living room. The world she had just shut out with the door was leaking in through the airways. ‘Television off until you’ve done your homework.’ She picked up the bag, hat and fleece and tossed them in the bedroom as she passed. When she got to the living room, Oscar was on the floor in front of the blank television, holding the remote.

    As a treat, Oscar was allowed to stay up. When Hannahsuggested it, Sean raised his eyebrow, said, ‘Really?’ but didn’t take it any further. He was the one who liked to bend the rules. She drew the line closer, so the laxness surprised him more than the bedtime. Calling it a ‘treat’ allowed her to gloss over the fact that she’d lost track of time on the computer and hadn’t got around to running Oscar’s bath.
    Oscar came bouncing into the kitchen. ‘Can we eat outside, like a picnic?’
    Sean frowned, ‘It’s dark outside buddy, and your dinner will get cold.’
    They ate at the table over Oscar’s groans but he quickly forgot, losing himself in retelling his day to Sean. He kept up a stream, Sean only having to throw in ‘Oh really?’ and ‘What happened then?’ occasionally to keep him going. Hannah had already heard these stories this afternoon, which left her mind free to roam. She tripped upon the realisation that there hadn’t been a single moment in the day when all four of them had been together.
    The absence of Zac was so strong it felt like a presence. Watching Oscar now, it was hard to superimpose Zac’s looks and personality on that small body. But he had been that little once and they had eaten in this kitchen before Oscar was born, three around the table. Two grown-ups and a five-year-old. Then it had just been normal, now it could only be strange. Three around the table meant Zac was missing. In four years, Zac would be an adult. By the time Oscar was Zac’s age, they would be three around the dinner table again.
    Before the renovation, where this table stood had been a laundry. Then, the washing machine looked out on the garden. The kitchen