by Chloe James
‘Hello, young lady, how’s it going? Bet everything’s a bit of a let-down after that performance of Jack’s the other night?’
‘Maybe,’ I agree. ‘But I always look forward to seeing everyone at the clap.’
‘Become a right little social hasn’t it?’ he replies.
Jack has obviously just come out on the balcony. ‘Hi, Bertie, how’s tricks?’ I hear him ask.
‘Better for being out and about. Wish I could have walked that crazy dog of Derek’s though. Does you good to have a fellow creature around you.’
‘I know, it’s a shame; would be nice for you to have a bit of company.’
‘You could ask Derek?’ I suggest.
‘No, love, he’s far too boisterous for me – not Derek, I mean, but Benson.’ He laughs uproariously at his joke. ‘Not with my dodgy back. Never cope with a big dog. Much as I love them. Can’t walk as far as I used to.’
I am about to reply when someone starts clapping. There’s always one I’ve noticed who likes to be the first to start it. Lately it’s almost become a competition, with a couple of contenders at the top of the league table, consisting of Marge of course – she always has to be first into everything – closely followed by her equally nosy friend Vic, who is just as keen to be both seen and heard preferably at the same time. My bet is on Marge though. I look across the courtyard and yes, sure enough, there she is in the corner, a self-satisfied kind of smile sprawled across her face.
I nudge Erica who is clapping beside me and she follows my gaze and laughs. ‘Marge wins first prize this week again,’ she comments in a loud whisper.
Inside we’ve left the television on and the room flashes blue and white as paramedics, police and emergency service workers in the car park of the local hospital put on their emergency lights to pay their respect to workers. I glance in briefly and have to swallow back tears; it really is an incredible sight. Everyone everywhere is working together to try to keep spirits up and thank those who are so selflessly risking all to help others.
Erica notices and smiles. ‘You big softy, you off again?’
‘I can’t help it.’ I can’t. It’s a fact I cry at loads of things, at happy films, sad films and even those in between. It’s one of those things I just have to put up with.
As the clap draws to a close, the majority of people drift away and back into their own separate lives until eight o’clock next Thursday when we’ll do the same thing all over again. There are some elements of this lockdown that really remind me of that movie Groundhog Day. I never liked it to be honest.
Bertie remains below chatting to Mavis who is obviously just as happy to have a long catch-up, putting the world to rights.
Mavis looks up and notices me peering over the balcony. ‘Hi, Sophia, thanks so much for helping me with my iPad the other day.’
‘That’s okay. Let me know if you have any other problems.’
‘Well I could do with some help getting more people to make scrubs with me.’ Every afternoon Mavis has been sewing scrubs for medical staff, whipping them up with an ease that would frighten even the most accomplished needleworkers on The Great British Sewing Bee.
‘Mavis, I’ve got some photos of my colleagues at the hospital wearing the results of some of your hard work!’ Erica calls out.
Mavis’s face breaks into a huge grin. ‘How lovely, I didn’t expect that.’
‘They’re all super pleased with them. I could upload the photos to the WhatsApp group and see if anyone else is interested in making them.’
‘Thanks, dear, that sounds good – and I’ll keep sewing.’
‘Please do, we can always do with more, Mavis.’
‘Did you have any luck fixing Elsie’s writing case?’ I hear Jack ask Bertie.
‘No, lad, worse luck. I think it’s completely broken. I had a try but it just made me feel sad, as the hinges are totally broken. I’ve put it to one side as a bad job.’
‘I’m sure someone could fix it,’ Jack says. ‘We just need to find the right person.’
‘What is it?’ I ask.
‘A box of my late wife Elsie’s writing bits and bobs. I dropped it on the floor the other day, daft old bugger that I am, and it’s broken.’
‘That’s really sad,’ I say. ‘But my stepdad is a whiz at fixing things – he has a business, doing odd jobs and stuff like that. He might not be able to fix something so delicate and old, but I think he has a mate who specialises in restoration. I could ask him?’
Bertie looks touched. ‘That would be grand; I’d be so chuffed. It’s sad seeing it smashed and broken on the shelf.’
‘I’ll send him a text,’ I promise.
Soon Bertie wanders off, realising it’s time for his evening crossword puzzle, and Mavis meanders along at a safe distance behind him, homeward bound to feed her beloved budgie Sunny.
I hear Jack’s voice from above. ‘That was kind of you.’
‘Not a problem, anyone would do the same.’
‘Fancy a mocktail?’ Jack asks me. ‘I’m eating healthy in the week but I’m experimenting with wicked shrub mixers at the moment.’
‘Shrub? Sounds like something my grandma would have made!’ I laugh.
Jack sounds outraged. ‘It’s spicier than your gran would have liked it. Well, it’s just a syrup blending fruit, sugar and vinegar. But I like to add cardamom to give it a kick.’
‘Erm I’m not really sure about cardamom in a drink. I mean, it’s fine in a hot toddy in the winter.’
‘I’ll make you some different ones and you can decide which is your favourite,’ Jack says, obviously put out at my lack of enthusiasm for his spicy shrub.
‘Okay well I’m happy to be your guinea pig. What’s first up?’ I reply.
‘Lemon lavender mocktail. Very summery, with a hint of refreshing citrus.’
‘Sounds perfect.’
‘I’ll send one down.’
‘I’ve missed the visits of your wine carrier.’
‘More than our chats?’ His voice has a teasing note.
‘Definitely. But I like those too.’
Erica drifts out onto the balcony. ‘Have you seen my scrubs?’ she asks.
‘They’re in the cupboard, neatly folded,’ I reply with an eye roll that I want her to see.
‘I didn’t see them there,’ she huffs.
‘That’s probably because you weren’t looking.’
‘Hi, Erica,’ calls Jack, ‘would you like a mocktail?’
‘No thanks, I’m off to work in a mo … and anyway, I prefer my cocktails with plenty of alcohol.’
‘Fair enough, I’ll make you one of my margaritas when you have an evening off.’
‘Deal.’ She smirks at me and adds in an undertone, ‘I’ll leave you two balcony lovebirds to it then.’
‘Shhh!’ I retort, half ushering, half shoving her back into the flat. Irrepressibly she grins and scarpers, no doubt still in search of her uniform, which is where I always put it when I’ve washed and ironed it.
I make myself comfortable on the corner seat on the balcony and within minutes a very elegant glass appears with a piece of lemon and a delicate strand of lavender. ‘It’s a very pretty colour,’ I announce, carefully taking it out of the box. I take a sip and try not to cough. ‘It’s very nice. The only thing is … I mean, it’s very pleasant but …’
Jack tuts. ‘Come on, be honest – I need truthful feedback.’
‘Well the lavender is quite lavendery. I don’t dislike it but it actually does remind me of my gran.’
Jack lets out an exasperated laugh. ‘Oh great, that’s really hip and current if it reminds you of your gran. Turns out you were right in your earlier judgement then.’
‘I don’t mean it in a bad way.’ I laugh too.
‘It’s okay. That’s the point of experimenting. Perhaps I’ll make the next a lemon and lime mocktail.’
‘Ooh that sounds perfect. Let me just finish this one first. Do you know, it grows on you after the fir
st few sips. Very calming.’
‘I’ll make it on the over sixties nights.’
I laugh before turning more serious. ‘Speaking of over sixties … I’m worried about Bertie.’
‘Bertie? Yeah I guess he is a bit down at the moment.’
‘I just wish he could come out with me to walk Benson. It would be so lovely for him to spend some time with a pup – they’re so cheerful.’
‘If a little crazy, by the sound of it!’
‘Yes, that too. I wonder …’ I break off for a moment.
‘Sounds like you have one of your ideas brewing,’ Jack observes.
‘Well, yes, I was just thinking maybe we could get Bertie a dog. Of his own.’
Jack snorts but it sounds as though he’s drunk a load of his mocktail down the wrong way as there’s a lot of coughing going on. He finally manages to recover. ‘Nice idea, but how are you going to find and adopt a dog in the current situation?’
‘Leave it with me, I’ll find a way,’ I say as I finish my drink. ‘Any chance of that lemon and lime mocktail? I might even have a packet of Pringles I could split with you.’
‘Coming right up. But I don’t think even you, with your super skills, are going to be able to find a dog for Bertie during a pandemic.’
Chapter 24
Jack
I am sitting and staring at the email from the Chiropractic College. It’s been there ready and waiting in my inbox for a few minutes but I daren’t open it. I really want this. It would be awful if they just rejected me. The idea of having a course starting in September has lifted me through this lockdown. Well that and Sophia. Okay … so, mostly Sophia. But that’s going to change. I know lockdown won’t last forever and I just don’t know what will happen with her afterwards. When we finally meet, will she like me? Is this all just the result of a strange situation and as things go back to normal – or the new normal they’re talking about, whatever and whenever that is – will we just drift apart, back into our own busy lives we lived for years without knowing of each other’s existence? Somehow this thought makes me feel lonely, empty even. I almost don’t want things to go back to how they were before, if it means losing Sophia.
It’s no good, I’m going to have to open this email.
Dear Mr Stanton,
Thank you for your application to study on our Sports Therapy Course. We enjoyed reading your CV and forms and would be delighted to invite you to take part in an interview with Lee Brockenhurst on Wednesday 29th April at 2 p.m.
Kind regards,
Diane Reeves
This is the best news. Before I stop to think, I message Sophia.
Guess what? I’ve been given an interview for the Chiropractic College. Can you believe it?
To my delight, she immediately messages back.
That’s amazing. Well done, Jack! She follows the message with a cheery face and an exploding whatever it is, that looks like a party popper coming out of an ice cream cone. I knew you could do it!
Thanks. I’m so excited. But dreading the interview. Haven’t done one for years.
That’s okay, you’ll walk it. But I can go over some questions with you later on the balcony if you like?
That would be helpful. In return, I won’t subject you to another lavender mocktail.
Done! Maybe see you when I’m back from my walk with Benson? I’ve got one more lesson then I’ll pick him up from Derek’s.
Hope you have a good time – make sure you keep a firm grip. He could pull a sleigh better than a team of huskies according to Derek!
Probably why he put his back out.
I expect so. Look after yourself and I’ll speak to you on the balcony later.
Sure thing x
She’s put a kiss again. It can’t be an accident.
Looking forward to it x
I just had to put a kiss too otherwise it would have looked unfriendly.
I tidy away my lunch things; today I made a real effort and created a salad with cold chicken and brown bread. All delivered by Sophia of course, although now I have got a regular delivery slot at the supermarket as well. It’s finally got a bit easier as they have given me priority due to my health condition.
Each week the shop has become a major project and I’m beginning to feel as though I’m taking a degree in shopping. I collect everyone’s wish list, including Bertie’s and Mavis’s well before the cut-off time the night before it’s delivered. Then I bag everyone’s separately after it’s delivered and lower stuff down to Sophia or Erica on their balcony to distribute.
The guys who deliver stand well back so I don’t feel awkward social distancing. Even better, it means I can order ingredients for cocktails when they’re available and surprise Sophia as well as being able to order her some shopping, which I leave outside my door for her to collect. I don’t know how but we still haven’t managed to see each other, but with one thing and another, we always miss that opportunity. Perhaps it’s not meant to be. Maybe someone somewhere is trying to tell us that this relationship only works when we aren’t together. Perhaps that’s what makes it so exciting. I brush that awkward thought away like a sticky piece of spider’s web you get stuck in your hair when walking through woods in autumn. I really don’t want to think about it right now.
I pick up the phone and dial Sam.
‘Hey, Sam, how’s it going?’
‘Someone is sounding on top of the heap today,’ he observes with a smile in his voice. ‘I’ve got Mum and Dad here on Zoom – hey, guys, here’s Jack.’
‘Hello, son,’ says Dad.
‘I can’t see him,’ says Mum. ‘Where is he? Is he next to Sam?’
‘No, dear, he’s on the phone, not on our computer screen.’
‘Are you all okay?’ I ask. These days you can never be sure with anyone; even if they’re feeling physically okay there’s a high chance they might be struggling mentally during this lockdown – because quite honestly, who isn’t?
‘We’re all fine thanks. Been doing the garden. Watching some television. Your mum’s got quite into her iPad now she knows how to use it,’ my dad says proudly.
‘It’s wonderful,’ she chips in. ‘I love it. You can type stuff in and it will tell you all about anything you want.’
I love Mum. She’s about twenty years behind everyone else but is super thrilled about everything and her enthusiasm is infectious.
‘Oh, I can hear Carrie,’ Sam says. ‘She must have woken up. Who wants to say hello?’
‘Oh definitely,’ says Mum.
‘If we must,’ says Dad at the same time.
‘Ken, that’s hardly very nice,’ she reproaches him. ‘This is your granddaughter you’re talking about.’
‘You know Dad’s joking,’ Sam intervenes. ‘I bet he’s the first trying to teach her about football.’
‘Probably true,’ I add.
Twenty minutes later when everyone has finished admiring the baby, I decide to announce my news.
‘Anyway, I have something to tell you. Do you remember that college course, the one on Sports Therapy?’
‘The one you were going to do years ago, but decided to run away to the beautiful Grecian Isles instead?’ Dad replies.
‘Yes that’s the one.’ I grit my teeth so I don’t make a hasty response I might regret. It’s all in the past and I know I did the wrong thing; I don’t need Dad to remind me of it.
‘I have an interview this week at the Chiropractic College.’
I am bombarded with noise. ‘Well done, Jack!’ Mum bellows. ‘I knew you’d come back to it.’
‘Eventually,’ adds Dad. He just can’t help himself.
‘Good work, mate! I knew you could do it. Hey, Tina, Sam’s got an interview for the Sports Therapy Course! She says well done, that’s amazing,’ Sam relays.
I eventually manage to get off the phone after all my family’s congratulations – which might be somewhat premature, as I might not get through the interview. But it’s a start. This return of
optimism won’t be quashed now that I’ve taken steps in the right direction; I could even apply for a different college or something. Starting is always the hardest part; whoever said that is right.
I decide to spend my time reading up about the course and thinking about questions I could ask in the interview. I’m already looking forward to practising with Sophia later. She’s had loads of interview practice for her teaching jobs.
As the afternoon goes on, a feeling of anticipation, of tightly muted excitement, grows in the pit of my stomach until I can barely sit still. It’s ridiculous really. I mean it doesn’t even matter what Sophia looks like, but somehow I need to know. I have this overwhelming curiosity, which has been building and like an itchy mosquito bite you’ve been trying not to scratch, I desperately want to just catch a tiny glimpse of her. Just to see if she looks as I imagine she does.
Four o’clock draws nearer and I stake out the balcony, trying to read the latest Lee Child book, which Sam kindly posted to me. You know you’ve got it bad when you’ve read and reread the same paragraph four times and still have absolutely no idea what it says. Especially when you discover it’s upside down. I chuckle to myself and then stop, realising maybe I’ve been alone too long. It’s a good job no one can see me. They’d think I was totally crazy.
Four o’clock comes and goes and still no sign of Sophia. I peer at my phone for the hundredth time and wonder if I made a mistake. It’s nearly quarter past and I give up any pretence of reading the book and cast it to one side. It’s no good; I can’t concentrate at all. I was like this right at the start of lockdown too. Twitchy. I couldn’t focus on reading a book or settling to any task for any length of time. It was as though I was subtly but seriously switched on to high alert. Yet for the last few weeks that feeling has settled and I’ve been able to read a few thrillers, which really take my mind off things.
Not this time though, I am like a contestant on Blind Date, excited but anxious. Except this isn’t even a date. I really need to get a grip, seeing as getting out more is hardly an option.
From below, there’s the sound of a door banging in the courtyard, and someone walks into view. It’s her, it has to be. I crane my neck and am rewarded by the sight of a willowy figure in a long white top, jeans and pumps walking briskly across the grey stones. But her face and hair are totally obscured by a huge wide-brimmed sun hat. As I watch, she disappears round the corner, along with my hopes of finally seeing what she looks like.