To her family and friends, Sarah was known to worry, but maybe now she had something to worry about. She knew the Coronavirus epidemic is the most significant event the country has had to deal with for some time, and he daily news coverage confirmed this. But she didn’t know how it would provide the backdrop to her worst fears. Like millions of other Britons, Sarah, who worked in accounts payable, was furloughed and learning to live with a sense of boredom and fear in equal measure.

Not so say Sarah didn’t enjoy getting to know her neighbours better and the sense of comradery which sprang up in her street as well as the three-story apartment block, had shown a caring, compassionate side to the local community Sarah hadn’t seen in her four years in Maidenhead. From her middle-floor flat, she’d watched everyone come a little closer, yet after two months, Sarah eagerly rejoiced when watching breakfast news and hearing that a small company in Oxford had developed the Covid19 App. She’d not been able to (officially) visit her boyfriend in Leeds, nor see much of her family in Portsmouth, and was itching to get back to work. She knew the queries were stacking up and bit her nails thinking about the implications for her department, so she was pleased to learn, all she now had to do now was take a test and have her body monitored remotely, and undergo some kind of managed return to work and some normality.

Firstly, she’d have to wait a couple of weeks, as the app was made available to the army, NHS, emergency services, then other key-workers, such as shop workers and refuse collectors. And not long after, and to her quiet relief, she received a text from the local surgery to arrange a test. Meanwhile, she watched the Health minister on the TV, hailing this as a great breakthrough, but, to Sarah’s slight concern, made it clear that for this to be fully effective, we needed at least 80% of the working population to download the app from the NHS website and get tested as soon as possible. She wondered if enough would do as she was doing; she being the first in the three-story block of flats to get the app and was quick to get everyone else in the block involved. Ian, the 86-year-old living above her, took some effort to get the app on his phone, but she helped him overcome this, and he was soon the last of us to have the app in the block. Then she escorted Ian to the local surgery where they were tested together; both negative, to their great delight. Along with everyone else in the block, she had to wait a few frustrating, nail-biting weeks while the rest of the population got the app and then got tested. A few weeks after, the health minister reported that at least 80% of the population were involved, so that the information could be relied upon.

That was two weeks ago and since then, Sarah began to make it a part of her day to check her mobile every few hours, to see herself as NHS number (3685789) flashing as a small – healthy - blue light, moving along the map on her phone. The novelty of the event, was soon interrupted, when one morning, coming back from the shop, she observed a small flashing red light on the map, a few streets away. She froze still, looked about to see she was alone and that flashing light really was far enough away, before composing herself. After the shock, and sure she didn’t need to change direction, she walked faster to get home and stay clear of the red flashing light, number 3293864.

 “I saw one of those infected red ones!” she declared to Mat, who lived in the flat over the hall.

“Don’t worry about it…”

“…I’m not worrying, just saying.”

But she did worry; that flashing red light that had so alarmed her would not be the last, she knew that. She wondered who they were and if they were going to survive. Yet, she was sure this app, much like the pandemic, seemed to bring us all closer together and would help us all back to normality, once the sick were dealt with. Sarah decide to make a conscious effort to forget about the flashing red light and concentrate on the here and now. And for a couple of days, it seemed she could just about manage it, biting her nails a little less.  

But, just a few days later, after having breakfast and getting ready for a morning walk, Sarah checked her phone for any flashing red lights, as was becoming her routine, when she was struck into a panic attack of fear and anguish. Her breathing quickened as she noticed a red flashing light, not just close to her, but it appeared to be coming from within the apartment complex. Overcome by fear, she stepped back in to her flat.

Then she text Mat; “Someone in the complex has it!”

“It was bound to happen,” he replied.

It occurred to Sarah that Mat had always been a bit too laid back and didn’t get the severity of the situation. She had to know who it was. It might make no difference, but she had to know. Keeping an eye on the flashing red light, she crept upstairs, and slowly got to the top landing, when she noticed the light was coming from the Jane’s flat. She lived across the landing from Ian, above Sarah. She was in her late twenties, and told Sarah she went to the gym more than she did, but Sarah surmised she was likely to get through it. But, all the same, Jane had become someone to avoid for the next three weeks.

Sarah wondered if James, the flat bellow knew how close he was to the cotangent, so decided to let him know.

“Jane’s got it,” She declared, “thought I should let you know.”

“Yeah, I noticed. I guess it was a matter of time.”

“OK then,” blurted Sarah, a bit worried about James’s lack of concern. When Sarah got back to the safety of her flat, she took out her phone and was about to call her boyfriend, but couldn’t resist a quick check of the app. She stopped in silence fear; there was now another flashing red light coming from the flat below hers. It belonged to Marcus, a man in his fifties, and as Sarah, surmised, closer to death than the others. Fear grew over her as she realised, she’d have to get passed his door every time she entered or left the complex; a plan was needed. Sarah knew the habits of all the inhabitants and often collected groceries for Ian, so knew if she could leave and enter at the right time and keep a steady distance from those flashing red lights, she’d get through this.

“How are your nails holding up?” asked her boyfriend, seeming to find the event amusing, when she called for support.

But the worry of colliding with one of those infected neighbours was ever-present and she went about her weekly shop two days later. It was early afternoon when she returned, bags of shopping in hand and still not on the floor, when she noticed all her fears were justified. There was now another flashing red light, coming from somewhere in the complex.

“They’re all infected, or almost all,” she declared to her boyfriend.

“You’ll be alright.”

Sarah knew he couldn’t take anything serious and was right not to agree to marriage, yet. “What should I do?”

“Not sure, maybe just avoid them?”

“Thanks.” She said sarcastically in response, but that’s all she could do, choosing to keep an eye on those flashing lights whenever she was to leave the flat. Yet, just a day later, after returning from a morning walk, another flashing light appeared. She did the maths and realised that everyone but her must have the virus. In a panic she jumped in her car and drove to the local surgery. She was stopped at the door and had to speak through a window, as the surgery was complying with social distancing measures.

The nurse behind the window asked “You seem a bit unwell, are you OK?”

“Sure, juts a bit worried, that’s all.”

“You seem to have a temperature.”

“No, just a bit anxious and worked up.”

“Have you checked yourself on the app?”

“Me?” Sarah tried to hide the insult she felt, and took out her phone, “look, I’m fine.”

The nurse studied the phone, and stood back, “One of us has it and I think it’s you.”

Sarah turned the phone and noticing a flashing red light coming from where she was standing.

“You really should be self-isolating,” declared the nurse with a lecturing and slightly condescending tone.