Free I Dream of Zombies by Vickie Johnstone

need to email him.”
    “Do it now,” advised Tommy. “Who knows what’s going to happen. I’d email now.”
    “You’re right,” said Marla. “I’ll pack my laptop and message him from my mum’s. You wanna come meet her for old time’s sake? She lives in Four Lanes in Cornwall. It normally takes me about five hours or so to drive it.”
    Tommy closed his laptop and thought about it. “I’ll stay here. I need to get my shit together, sort out some orders and this place... just in case.”
    “Just in case,” echoed Ellen. “I wonder what that really is.”
    “That’s the q uestion on my mind,” said Marla, “but there’s no time to waste. I’m going to make a coffee, pack my stuff and drive to Mum’s. We’ll get there before dark easily.”
    “Great,” Ellen answered. “And a coffee sounds good too.”

Tuesday night
     
    Marla parked the jeep alongside the pavement outside a small, granite-brick cottage at the end of the main road. Ivy curled up the walls and over the white-painted door. The small front garden was neatly trimmed and full of colourful roses while an apple tree sat proudly. Opening the rusty gate, Ellen led the way up the short path, consisting of four round paving slabs with animals carved into them. Grinning, she rapped the cat-headed knocker and waited. Marla glanced up and down the peaceful village. Not a soul stirred, as was usual at this time of the night in this place that consisted of only four lanes at the top of a very steep hill. Even the bus service retired for the day at 6 p.m.
    The door creaked open and a short, grey haired woman peered up at them. She was wearing a blue floral dress, a light blue cardigan and a pair of bright pink, fluffy slippers. Her face soon lit up with a huge toothy grin. “It’s lovely to see my two girls,” Hilda exclaimed warmly. She leaned forward to hug them, almost standing on tiptoe to make up for her lesser height.
    “How are you, Mum?” asked Marla, following her inside the house.
    “Fine, fine, can’t complain,” she said. “I’ll put the kettle on. What would you girls like? Ellen, I got some juice too. I know how you love your juice.”
    “Can I have a coffee, Mum,” Ellen answered. “I’ve gotten a taste for it lately.”
    “Whatever you like , petal,” Hilda replied, disappearing off into the kitchen.
    The sisters kicked off their shoes and placed them next to their mother’s before dumping their luggage on the floor in the corner.
    “It’s nice to be home,” said Ellen. “Touch of normality, at last.”
    Marla nodded. “I know what you mean.”
    They wandered into the kitchen and sat down on two of the three chairs at the breakfast bar while they watched their mother prepare their drinks. “What have you been up to?” Marla asked her.
    “Oh, the usual things,” Hilda replied. “I did a bit of gardening this morning as young Billy, Maureen’s son, came over to mow the lawn and then I watched a movie.”
    “Do you get bored here on your ow n with Chris away?”
    “No, it’s quiet, yes, but your brother has been emailing me to tell me what he’s up to. Having a whale of a time from what he tells me.
    “Emailing? Are you using email, Mum?” asked Ellen, throwing a grin at her sister.
    “Yes, I am. I’m not old and past it yet, you know,” Hilda joked as she set the steaming coffees down on the breakfast bar. “I have one of those computer things now. The library had a course on using them and Deirdre from the Women’s Institute thought it a great way for us all to keep in touch. Do you have emails, girls?”
    “Of course, Mum! Everyone has email.”
    “You didn’t tell me. I’d have forwarded you all the photos that Chris sends me. But let’s go into the lounge and sit down. It’s much more comfortable. I’ve set up the spare room, so one of you can sleep there and one on the sofa in the lounge. Your choice,” said Hilda, walking out the door.
    “I’m easy,” said Marla, following close