Love in Lockdown

by Chloe James

  ‘Maybe, but I don’t think so.’ He breaks off. ‘Anyway, what are you missing most during this lockdown?’

  His abrupt change of topic takes me by surprise, but I’m kind of relieved. This feels like safer territory. I still don’t feel able to discuss relationships. Even after all this time, it feels too painful. ‘That’s easy, contact, with the people I care about, my family, my sister. I would do anything just to give her a hug right now. You must miss your brother right?’

  ‘Definitely. I’d love to see him and Tina and have a cuddle with my new little niece. Did I tell you I’m going to be Carrie’s godfather?’

  ‘You’ll make a great godparent,’ I tell him. Even though I haven’t met him properly, I can tell he would be brilliant with kids – his sense of fun, his understanding of different issues, the way he reacted to Carrie’s birth. And he never forgets to ask about the kids at school.

  ‘What’s the first thing you’ll do when you get out of here?’ he asks.

  ‘Well other than hugging my family, I’ll probably go for a walk on Sparrow Hill and just enjoy the quiet and stillness of the fresh air whilst gazing at the patchwork fields, the birds, butterflies and fresh green tree-lined lanes of the countryside. You feel on top of the world there and can see for miles.’ I then realise maybe I’m being a bit insensitive. ‘Sorry, that’s not very helpful saying that when you can’t go out at all. I guess at least I can take a short walk now. How about you?’

  He pauses. ‘Well I would love a walk, maybe not so much in the town, but Sparrow Hill is lovely. But there’s something I’d want to do before anything else, if I could get out of here.’

  He says this quietly. His voice is slightly husky and I’m almost too nervous to ask him. ‘Really, what?’

  ‘I’d love to walk down those stairs, through your front door – if you’ll let me in of course – and sit watching the sunset with you, whilst we have one of our chats, as we could have done before all this …’ my heart is in my mouth ‘… except …’ He gives a dry laugh.

  ‘Except?’

  ‘That would be awkward because I’m still married to Laura.’

  Chapter 18

  Jack

  The picture of a beach hanging on the wall looks kind of funny, upside down and round the wrong way. In fact everything’s a bit fragmented and I seem to be cuddling my dressing gown, which is wrapped around the table leg. Where the heck am I and what’s going on? I shut my eyes; it’s far too bright to be looking at anything for long. Cautiously I open them again. Okay I’m on the floor in my flat. Why did I sleep here? I put out my arm and touch the sofa. Must have crashed out on there and fallen off. It’s cold too, and where’s that awful brightness coming from? I peer blearily round, through squinty eyes, towards the source of light. I’ve left the balcony doors open.

  I remember I was talking to Sophia but I think I might have said something wrong. Was it the wedding? No, that went well. Yet I have that horrible feeling you get when you’ve had the opportunity for something wonderful to happen and suddenly it’s been taken away. Then, like a tidal wave, realisation comes rushing back and crashes over my head, leaving me cold. I can’t believe I told Sophia about Laura.

  I hold my head in my hands, drawing my legs up in the foetal position. Shutting my eyes doesn’t help. I remember it all, with hideous technicolour clarity. Like a total bastard, I said to Sophia that I wanted to be with her and then told her I’m married. Just like that, out of the blue. I am such a loser. I know I had to tell her sometime but not then, not like that.

  My mouth is so dry I can barely move my lips at all. I need to get myself off the floor and find cold water, and lots of it. After a fight with the overwhelming wooziness, I struggle to my feet and stagger to the kitchen. This is why the specialist said no alcohol binges, with dodgy renal function the normal hangover is amplified by about a hundred. As I sip water, having downed a couple of painkillers, I try to piece together the events of last night. Only I could mess up like this. Sophia and I had been chatting away as we always do, yet last night it felt different, somehow much more intimate. I wanted to be close to her, to feel her mouth on mine, even though I don’t know what she looks like. Yet I’ve blown it.

  I shower with the cold tap on full jet for the first few seconds in a ridiculous attempt to punish myself for my idiocy. I feel a blimming mess. I hear my mum’s voice: ‘You need to pull yourself together, Jack. What did you want before all this rubbish? You’re not a child any more. It’s time for you to grow up and get on.’

  It’s strange but I don’t even need to speak to my mum to know what she would say and she would be right. She’s said enough before. I was too busy to hear her or take any notice. Too busy running away. Running away from a history of medical stuff, hospital visits, all of which I wanted to draw a veil over, block out. It was like I was trying to prove something to myself: I can party; this disease isn’t going to define me.

  There’s an irony to the fact that it’s taken a pandemic and a random friendship with someone I’ve never met, to make me stop and think about things. Make me listen to sense. From today on, I am going to be different. No more Jack the joker, the charming barman who everyone likes but no one really respects.

  I check my phone. Last night I sent a desperate text to Sophia, trying to explain that I hadn’t meant for it to come out like that. Trying to tell her that I haven’t seen Laura for a year. I’ve been trying to get her to agree to a divorce. The message shows as still unread.

  As I’m staring blankly at the screen, a reminder pings up. I’m due to phone Mavis at eleven-thirty. I’m just about on time. I dial her number.

  ‘Mavis?’

  ‘Hello, Jack, how nice to hear from you. How’s tricks?’

  ‘Not too bad, bit tired today after a late night.’

  ‘Oh dear, been partying again have you?’

  ‘Yes something like that.’ I smile in spite of my muzzy head. ‘And how are you?’

  ‘Good thanks; I’ve been up and had my exercise round the estate. Popped into Newsie to get my fresh bread. Early on a Sunday, there’s hardly anyone around but I wore my mask just to be sure.’

  ‘Organised as ever!’ I comment.

  ‘Ooh yes I can’t bear hanging around in the morning. Wastes the day! I bumped into Bertie and had a socially distanced chat. I’m worried about him though,’ she confides.

  ‘What was up?’

  ‘He just seems quiet. I think this lockdown’s getting to him.’

  ‘I can imagine.’ Although I can’t really, as it must be especially awful for Bertie – he’s lost his wife; his life partner of over half a century. ‘I suppose at least he gets out for his walk once a day.’

  ‘I know, but it’s lonely for him after Elsie died. He hasn’t even got Cooper to walk any more.’

  ‘Cooper?’

  ‘His little Jack Russell. He loved that dog, he went everywhere with him but he died a couple of years ago. He was a good age though – sixteen.’

  ‘Yes I remember now; I’d forgotten his name. That’s a pretty good innings. But it’s a shame – having a dog at a time like this would give Bertie some company and he could meet people, well, at a distance anyway.’

  ‘Yes it’s important, gives you someone to talk to. My budgie Sunny and I have whole conversations about all sorts of things. He chats with me all day and understands everything I say. Can’t get him to be quiet during the church service though.’

  ‘You take him to church?’ I must admit I’m struggling not to laugh at this image.

  ‘No I have an online service every Sunday.’

  ‘And how was it today?’

  ‘Very uplifting. It’s not the same as being in the actual church of course, but the vicars share out the prayers and service from their homes and gardens. Makes it feel like having a family for me.’

  ‘That’s so nice.’

  ‘Yes, Rev Bates has asked me to do a reading next week.’

  ‘Go you!’

 
; ‘I know, but to tell you the truth, Jack, I’m not sure how to record myself on my iPad. I’m still scared of it to be honest.’

  ‘That’s okay. I’ll help you by telling you how to do it. It’s quite simple really. Or if you find it too difficult, I’m sure Sophia will record it for you. She could stand in the courtyard at a distance and film outside.’

  ‘What a lovely idea, Jack. Sophia is a dear, I’m sure she would do that. Why didn’t I think of it?’

  ‘Well that’s why it’s good to run things past other people. It can help.’

  ‘You’re so right, dear; problems often seem insurmountable on one’s own. That’s what today’s sermon was about. Helping one another and how this crisis has made people realise what is important to them. Friendship and companionship rather than money and things we think we need but we don’t.’

  ‘Sounds about right.’ And I’ve lost perhaps one of the best friends I’ve ever had, because I was so stupid. I try to concentrate on the conversation. ‘He must be a wise man your vicar,’ I comment.

  ‘He certainly is and the sermon really cheered me up. He said we shouldn’t be afraid of the new normal that will follow this lockdown.’

  ‘I guess.’ I have my doubts: I think we all feel pretty uncertain.

  ‘He’s not saying we aren’t afraid of it because of course we all are; we just want things to go back to how they were. But maybe they can’t. Maybe things need to change and we have to move forward, learn from what’s happened and embrace new things.’

  ‘Wow – that’s positive.’ I guess change can be a good thing, and I know we need to learn from our mistakes. But I can’t believe falling out with Sophia is part of anything positive at all, I might have lost her altogether and she has become such a positive part of my life. Maybe I haven’t realised until now just how much.

  ‘That’s what I thought, but perhaps a little heavy for a Sunday morning if you’ve had a bad night! How is Sophia anyway? I hear you’ve become good friends.’

  I’m silent for a moment.

  ‘Oh dear have I said something wrong,’ she says. ‘I’m always putting my foot in it.’

  ‘No, you haven’t. Not at all. Everything’s fine. It’s just we had a bit of a misunderstanding and the thing is, I really like her.’

  ‘Then tell her,’ she says, like it’s that simple after what I did. ‘That’s the best way: be honest and open. Sophia’s a lovely girl. She’ll understand.’

  ‘I’ve messaged her but she’s not replying at the moment. I think I’ve really upset her.’

  ‘Keep trying, dear. As Anne of Green Gables said, “Tomorrow is a new day with no mistakes in it … yet”.’

  ‘Anne who?’

  ‘She was the heroine of a book by L. M. Montgomery and a very good one too, except like all of us, she kept making mistakes. It all turned out well in the end and she’s right – every day is a new start.’

  ‘It is, I guess, with no mistakes in it yet,’ I repeat. ‘Do you know what, you’re right. Thanks so much, Mavis. I’m going to go and sort some things out.’

  ‘You do that and thanks for the chat, Jack. I really enjoyed it.’

  ‘I should be thanking you – you’ve just really helped more than you will know.’ I leave the call.

  She has as well. It’s time for a new beginning.

  I fry up a large pan of bacon and eggs, fried bread and baked beans. Okay so I’ll start the healthy diet another day. Don’t want to change too many things at once. The greasy breakfast is delicious, just what I needed, and I scroll down my phone. There’s her number. I press on it firmly before I can change my mind. It rings for several seconds and I desperately hope she answers.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Laura, it’s Jack.’

  ‘Oh.’ Her voice changes, the tone dropping away from the cheery note it had when she first answered.

  ‘How are you?’ I ask, determined to be civil, as though we are just regular friends calling for a catch-up. No remnants of a failed and deeply acrimonious relationship to be seen here.

  ‘Fine,’ she says guardedly. To be fair, it’s a stupid question in the middle of a pandemic and a loaded one. There’s always a slight hesitation these days after asking how someone is, a hidden worry that maybe the person might not be all right, or someone they know might be really ill or worse. The virus has ensured that the usual daily assumption that someone is likely to be perfectly okay when you phone them has been removed along with all our other comfortable and routine safety nets that we have always taken for granted.

  ‘I just wanted a quick chat, if you’re not busy,’ I say.

  ‘Well I’m about to do the shop,’ she says tersely.

  ‘That’s fine; don’t let me stop you. I’ll phone later if you like.’ I try to keep my tone light. I am determined this is going to work. I can’t change anything else in my life during this lockdown but I can get this off my chest.

  ‘No,’ she sighs, ‘it’s fine. I can go in a while. Apart from anything else I suppose I should be grateful that you’ve phoned. You haven’t returned any of my calls before.’

  ‘I know – well it’s been difficult.’ What’s been most difficult is the fact Laura is convinced that I’m still going to go back to her. ‘But the thing is, Laura, things have changed. I’ve changed.’ There’s silence on the end of the line and I hope she’s still there. ‘Have you received the papers?’

  ‘Papers?’ she echoes as though I am speaking in a different language and she has never heard of divorce papers, let alone received any. This is what makes her so darned difficult to deal with. She’s as slippery as those things in arcade machines that you pay money to try to win.

  Okay, keep calm, Jack. Count to ten. ‘The divorce petition.’

  ‘I don’t think I …’

  ‘Because Malcolm Peterson says he delivered it to you at 12.20 on 16th March.’

  ‘I don’t remember – maybe it was my neighbour Kev.’

  ‘It was definitely you. You signed for it.’ Wow, nothing about this girl changes. It somehow strengthens my resolve. I’m doing the right thing.

  There’s a silence as she digests the information. ‘He was sent from Fraser Symonds. As you apparently didn’t receive the last two copies, I paid for this one to be delivered by hand to you.’

  ‘You really mean business don’t you?’

  ‘To be honest yes.’

  ‘You only ever phone when you want something. Did you ever care for me?’

  I’m not going to fall for this. Not this time, even though her tone has changed and she’s plaintive, pleading almost. ‘Yes. I did. You know what we had was really special and meant a lot to us both and we had some amazing times but it wasn’t healthy. We weren’t suited at all. In the end all that was left was toxicity.’

  ‘We could have tried again.’

  ‘It still wouldn’t have worked. Look, Laura, when I met you I was angry. I was running away from years of childhood illness, failed medical procedures. I just wasn’t in a good space. I went to Greece to get away from reality, to actually live a life away from hospitals, meds, my parents who have helicoptered around me for ever. Wanting the best for me, but I found it all so stifling. I just wanted to be normal, have a laugh, be relaxed like my mates.’

  She remains silent so I continue, ‘I did love you. Who wouldn’t? You were sparky and fun, full of zest for life. We had a ball together. I’m never going to forget that, but we should never have married. I’m not the guy for you and you aren’t the girl for me. I’ve changed now; I’m not that carefree bloke you thought you were marrying. He was just a knee-jerk reaction to a life I wasn’t happy with. The Jack you married doesn’t exist.’

  ‘But I could have changed, too.’ She’s making me feel really bad now, but this happens every time. I need to stay strong; I know I’m not the right guy for her. We are so completely and utterly different but she doesn’t understand that. I’m not the person she thinks she wants.

  ‘You did change. Into
this clingy person who I don’t even recognise. And that was my fault. You’re so much better than that, Laura, and somewhere you will find a guy who makes you happy, who wants that adrenaline ride for real, that constant spark you can get from each other.’

  ‘You might find that part of yourself again. We could go back to Greece, start over.’

  ‘But I don’t want to. I’ve decided to study. Do that college course I always wanted to take.’ I’ve surprised myself, but now I’ve said it, I’m realising how determined I am to do it.

  ‘What college course?’ Typical Laura – I told her all about my ideas for this course last year. She had been totally against the idea, said it was a waste of time and I would be bored.

  ‘The one I was going to do before all this kicked in. At the Chiropractic College. It’s what I wanted for years before … before I got so darned angry and sick of everything.’ My God I’m surprising myself with what I’m coming out with. It’s all true, but seems to have been buried somewhere ridiculously deep until now. I still want to do this course. I’d love to be a sports physio – really help people with back issues, sports injuries. ‘You know I was inspired by the physio at the hospital; he changed so many lives for the better,’ I say. ‘I’ve got loads of ideas.’

  ‘Is that really what you want?’ asks Laura.

  ‘Yes, it is. But what do you really want, like really want to do more than anything?’ I’m desperate for her to do what she really loves, instead of hanging on for me to become something I never will. She’s a free spirit. Settling down is not for her, I know it isn’t.

  She hesitates a moment. ‘I’d really like to go travelling again, see more of the world. I don’t want to stay here. This pandemic has just made me want to go even more desperately.’

  ‘That’s good. I think it’s made us all have a rethink, change our priorities.’

  ‘I guess you’re right. I don’t want to give up travelling; I had no idea you wouldn’t have wanted to come.’