by Heide Goody
“Wait, no, don’t go! I’ll tell you how I’m vulnerable, hold on just for a second.” Clovenhoof turned to his mobile. He was about to call Ben when he saw that Ben was in fact calling him. He thumbed green. “Ben, Ben. I’ve got a question for you.”
“Help me,” whispered Ben. “The police are after me. They think I’m death. I’m hiding in a garden down the road and—"
“No, I don’t care about your problems,” said Clovenhoof. “I need to ask you something.”
Outside, a police car siren wailed and blue light reflected off Nerys’s lounge window. Twinkle looked up from his basket inquisitively.
Nerys stared at the screen. All of the other listeners wore the same expression: part fascination with the situation, and part admiration at the call agent’s smooth handling of it.
“Shut up, Ben!” hissed the caller. “I’ve called up Dukoko. I’m pretty sure Nerys is on this call because they said it was being used for training. What do you call that condition when you shout out swear words all the time?”
There was a tinny squeak of someone saying something on another phone.
“No,” said the caller. “It’s got a name; I know it has.”
Nerys could take no more. She went to her door and yelled down the stairs. “You’re on about Tourette’s, you idiot. Now get off that call for God’s sake! What if Spartacus needs to ring you about my—?” She stopped, remembering why it had been so important for Spartacus to go and get that parcel back. She was without clothes on the lower half of her body. She looked down at herself, then turned and looked back at the laptop, where she could clearly see several participants snapping pictures of the screen with their phones. Others were laughing silently.
The caller came back on the line. “Well, bollocks, I’ve remembered that I have Tourette’s. Now what can you do for me—?” There was a click as the call was disconnected.
Amanda came back on the line. “Nerys? Perhaps we need to have a word.”
“I can explain,” she said.
“Such an unruly thatch,” said one of the other trainees on the call.
“Who said that?” demanded Nerys. “Which one of you said that!”
She slammed the laptop shut in fury and mortified humiliation.
Clovenhoof saw another call coming through on his mobile. “Gotta go, Ben,” he said and switched calls. “Helloo.”
“Oh, Jeremy!” quavered Persephone. “I think I’m going mad.”
“Aren’t we all?” he said cheerily.
“I can see Death.”
“Er – okay.”
“He’s outside my house. Cloak, cowl, the lot.”
“Are you sure? I’ve met the angel of death. We used to be good friends.”
“It’s him!” said the older woman fearfully. “Outside the door.”
Clovenhoof shrugged. “Put the door on the chain. He’ll probably go away.”
“But he’s whispering through the letterbox, asking to be let in!”
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