Free An Ordinary Epidemic by Amanda Hickie

he’d pushed on his finger. His eyes closed for a moment, she could hope that nap times were back, but they popped open again. How easy it would be to curl up in the sun as well but she had promised Kate a first pass by the end of the week, a draft she hadn’t done any work on yet.
    Hannah let him rest while she retrieved his schoolbooks, a couple of puzzle books and a jigsaw from his bedroom. Behind the door in the office, she set up his little table and chair. There wasn’t much room but it wouldn’t be forever.
    He stirred from the blanket, followed her into the office and sank his head onto his table as he stared into the garden, undisturbed by the clack of her keyboard. After a few minutes, he raised his head and started looking through the activity books.
    â€˜Hey, let’s do the schoolwork first and then you can have some fun. How much of each book do you do a week?’
    â€˜A page.’
    â€˜Just one page?’
    â€˜The page when you open the book and there are two sides. One page like that.’
    â€˜Which one do you want to do? Do you want to start with your favourite or leave that one ’til last?’
    â€˜I like doing this one.’ He pulled out a maths book and methodically set to filling in every question. For five minutes she read in silence, until the sound of a page turning broke her concentration. Oscar was working on the next page.
    â€˜Are you having trouble with some of the questions?’
    â€˜No.’
    â€˜Finish the first page, Mouse, before you start the next one.’
    â€˜I have.’
    â€˜Already?’ What did they do at school all day? ‘Don’t do the next page, save it for later.’ Oscar pulled out one of the other schoolbooks and opened it. ‘Leave that one for tomorrow. You don’t want to do them all at once.’ Five books, five days. ‘Why don’t you do the book with the mazes? Those are good.’
    That kept him quiet for a couple of minutes but when she looked over to check on him, he popped out of his chair.
    â€˜Look at this.’ A thick scribbled line, crossing and crossing back through the boundaries of the maze.
    â€˜Great, good job.’
    He sat back down at his desk. Just enough time for her to re-read the last sentence.
    â€˜How do I do this one?’
    â€˜Ahhh,’ she pulled her eyes from the screen, ‘the same, but the end’s at the bottom not in the middle.’
    She heard him giggle. Silence. Another giggle.
    â€˜What?’
    â€˜This one makes a picture, it’s a cow inside a horse. Look.’
    If she dropped in a ‘hmm’ or ‘is that so’ sporadically, she found she could read and keep him happy at the same time. Until she realised that he’d just said the same thing twice.
    â€˜What sweetie?’
    â€˜Well, can I?’
    â€˜Can you what?’
    â€˜Play outside now.’
    â€˜Sure you can.’
    The plastic clamshell that served as a sandpit sat in one corner of the grass, pushed against the garden bed. She gladly took a break from working to open it for him and then left him, reluctantly. If she could only get another hour of work done, she’d take a break.
    But first she rang Sean and was sent to voicemail. ‘Hi, it’s me. If you have time, could you stop at a bookstore or a newsagent and get as many activity books as you can find. I’m going to need them.’
    Only half past one and already she was fighting the urge to crawl under her desk and sneak a nap, what with the trip to the school, the argument with Sean and keeping Oscar occupied. But her exhaustion was overlaid with the nagging feeling that maybe somewhere something was wrong.
    She needed new words to make her calm, to know that right now everything was okay. But right now didn’t last long. Minutes, nanoseconds. In fact, maybe right now someone was typing the terrible news, just about to click the ‘post’ button. It was an