Two Men and a Woman in aTraffic Jam; by Peter Morford

The woman in the Mini thumps the steering wheel in frustration. She has to collect the children from the child-minder, fix their tea and, an hour later, Paul would join her for dinner. She’s already late when her phone buzzes. Feeling guilty, she answers it while waiting in the jammed traffic.

“This is St Judes Hospital. I’m sorry to tell you that your husband collapsed in his office and is in the Covid19 Ward. You cannot visit him. You and your family should isolate yourselves and get tested.”

There was nothing for her to say except – thank you Doctor. The traffic moves twenty feet and stops. She can see the lights 100 yards ahead. There’s a lot to be said for working at home, she thinks; only I can’t. I’m a Tesco cashier.

When will this pandemic be over?

Behind her the man in the new Jaguar is also worried. Only last month life had seemed so good. On January 10 th he had sold his late father’s house, cleared his mortgage, bought this car and invested the rest in carefully-selected shares. The market was at a peak but the omens were good. A three percent yield on his portfolio would more than double his income and there was the prospect of growth. Good indeed.

Only days later the Market plunged by a third. His stomach hurts at the thought of what he has lost. And now three months later he’s still 20% down and feeling foolish for his hasty purchase. Worse, he thinks that dividends will be cut and he has no spare cash to invest at what must surely be a buyer’s position.

“Damn this virus, JJ Baring shouts. We’ll all be bankrupt at this rate.”

A cyclist squeezes through the traffic all the way to pole position at the lights. His visi- jacket bears the words Save our Planet. Stashed in a pannier are the leaflets he will be issuing at the illicit demonstration in Town Park. Sitting there, waiting for the lights to change, he mutters. “Cut down on travel; save the

oceans, ban plastics, stop using fossil fuels and pesticides. You’ve seen the storms, the fires , floods and pestilence. We caused it, only we can stop the abuse of our planet Earth. If we don’t change our ways, we’re doomed. If we carry on the way we are, there will be no recovery because it’s later than you

think.”

The lights change. The bike and a few cars get through. The woman phones her child-minder to say that she’ll be late. She keeps her engine running because she was worried about her battery.

On this warm summer evening, the drivers shut their windows and turn the air-conditioners on full. They listen to the traffic report. A flashing, wailing ambulance nudges its way on the wrong side of the road.

Baring, in his Jaguar, coughs again and worries because his can’t taste his throat pastille.

On the radio the Prime Minister says, “We’re all in this together.”