Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing

Ella at The End Of The World – Episode Four

Read more of Ella at The End Of The World

Martin showed me where the bunker is. I feel like a complete bitch, because we were almost there when I threw my little tantrum yesterday, and diverted us all the way from England. However, him showing it to me does reassure me a little, because the only other people he has shown are blood relatives, so at least he still likes me (hopefully he still loves me) enough to share it with me.

It felt weird to be back in England, and I don’t just mean because everything is going from gold to shit. I haven’t been back since just before Martin and I got married. I kept saying I’d go back to visit, but I never got round to it, first, Coronavirus lockdown got in the way, and then Martin and I were both busy at work, or busy enjoying married life, there was always something, I suppose. Of course, I didn’t think the end of the world was coming so quickly, and if I had, I’d have made the effort to book some time off, and gone down there, but I thought I had the rest of my life to be the good daughter, and go home.

I spoke to mum again just now, she’s really panicked, because Aaron (my brother) had gone out for supplies but hadn’t come back yet. I told her not to worry too much, and surprise surprise, I was right. She text a couple of minutes later to say he was home.

We’ve stopped for the night, because Martin is tired, understandably. I’m starting to regret never learning to drive manual. He was going to teach me, but that is another thing we just never got round to. If I had made time for it, we could share the driving, and I’d feel less guilty about… well *gestures broadly* everything. Although, I suppose, it is partly his fault, for buying a manual, and then insisting on bringing that, instead of my car, which we could both drive. I’m typing in the tent, on my phone, thankful that Martin’s preparedness included buying and charging a huge amount of power banks, and for the first time in days, even though I suspect he is maybe still a little angry with me, I feel close to him, like I did at home, before all this. He’s reading a book, with me in his arms, and he leans down, every now and again, to kiss me on the forehead, and I think, despite the chaos all around us, maybe things are going to be okay.

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