by Heide Goody
A woman in her seventies walked past, dragging a capacious pink shopping trolley.
“Can I take your trolley?” he asked.
“Oh, good,” she said. “I had a note through my door about that. I thought it was someone from your house?”
“You did?”
Clovenhoof had tucked away several bottles of booze the previous night. Had he leafleted the street with Can you lend me your trolley? leaflets in some sort of drunken fugue state? It wouldn’t be the first time.
“Yes. It’s a great idea,” she said. “And very noble too. How will I pay you?”
This was getting better and better. Not only was she willing to hand over her trolley, she would give him money for it. Maybe this was going to be a good day after all. “What do you think?” he asked.
“I’ll give you twenty up front. If it’s any more then we can sort it out later.”
Clovenhoof nodded and wordlessly took the note she offered.
“List’s in the trolley,” said the woman as she went back the way she’d come. “I’m three doors down from you.”
He nodded. “Yeah. You’re um … thingy. Stupid name. Precipitation? Polygamy?”
“Persephone,” she said.
“That’s the one,” he said. “What list?”
“In the trolley.”
He inspected the trolley as he wheeled it back home. There was a shopping list inside, which must have been the list she was talking about. He shrugged. A few items of fake shopping would be a good disguise for a trolley full of Lambrini.
Clovenhoof visited every shop he could think of within walking distance that might have Lambrini. He bought as much as he was able to fit into the shopping trolley on his multiple trips. Each sortie was accompanied by an additional item from the list, so he had something sticking out of the top to explain to Nerys. By the end of the day he had actually bought all of the items on the woman’s list. He bundled them into a bag and took them round to her. He put them on the doorstep and rang the bell. As he was walking away she opened the door, saw the shopping and beamed at him. “You’re an angel, you know that don’t you?”
“You’re the first person to actually notice that in quite a while,” said Clovenhoof.
Clovenhoof took the trolley home with him; the woman seemed happy with that. It was a sweet deal, although he still wasn’t entirely sure what the deal was.
He gazed at the numerous boxes of Lambrini currently scattered around his lounge. He would have to find a way to hide it, or Nerys was certain to give him a load of trouble.
6
Clovenhoof heard Nerys announce herself at his door in her own unique style. She banged on Clovenhoof’s door, went across to rattle Ben’s door and then bellowed at the pair of them. “I’m in a bad mood. Bring me good company and alcohol. One out of two will do.”
Clovenhoof swept open the door and invited both Nerys and Ben inside. “Ben, I trust you bought the alcohol, given that I will be providing excellent company as always?”
“As it happens, I’ve been having a clear out to see what’s left from the Christmas stash,” said Ben. “If things are getting tight in the supermarket, we need to make best use of what we have at the back of the cupboard. I brought a selection.”
“I can’t believe we left anything undrunk at Christmas,” said Nerys. “What have you got?”
Ben rustled in a carrier bag and brought out some bottles. “There’s a quarter bottle of advocaat, some sweet sherry from that trifle competition which got out of hand, and some peach schnapps.”
Nerys grabbed the advocaat, Clovenhoof grabbed the peach schnapps; Ben stared with some disappointment at the sweet sherry.
Clovenhoof held up a finger. “Let me get some glasses, it’s not time for anarchy quite yet, although I’m quite looking forward to that part of the coming apocalypse. When it comes to the looting and the running naked through the streets I’ll be—”
“—you’ll be well practised,” said Nerys. “It’s not like those aren’t things you literally do all the time.”
“So why are you in a bad mood, Nerys?” asked Ben.
“It’s Tina,” said Nerys. “She’s got all competitive again.”
“We all know what that means,” shouted Clovenhoof from the kitchen.
“Do we?” said Nerys.
“It means Tina is doing better than you at whatever your current competition is,” said Clovenhoof. When he came back through with the glasses he could see from her face that he was right.
“Her social media feed is full of her doing shopping and chores for the vulnerable and isolated.”
“What about the pictures of you supporting the local restaurant trade by buying takeaway?” said Ben.
“Unfortunately,” moped Nerys, “images of Jeremy seeing how many California rolls he can get in his mouth do not make for many likes.”
“People are Philistines,” said Clovenhoof.
“Now, Tina’s all over the internet with her good works,” said Nerys. “She’s obviously just trying to get a mention in their wills, or something.”
“So have you been doing the same thing?” asked Clovenhoof.
“Yes, but obviously I did it for the right reasons. I kept it just to the neighbours in this block. I met Persephone three doors down—”
“I think you’ll find her name’s Polygamy,” said Clovenhoof.
“Persephone said she got my leaflet and then do you know what?”
Clovenhoof shook his head, even though he had some possible insight into the answer.
“She phoned back and said thank you for doing the shopping! You can see what’s happened! Tina’s stealing my customers. It has to be her!”
“Is that the only possible explanation?” said Clovenhoof. “I mean, maybe she’s senile or something?”
“No, she’s definitely not,” said Ben. “She used to be a chemistry lecturer at the university. She’s got tons of letters after her name.”
“Yeah, that’s what I’d say if I was senile,” said Clovenhoof.
“That’s not how senility—” started Ben.
“—He means stop being a dick,” said Nerys. “Now let’s get back to how I’m going to outdo Tina, shall we?”
Clovenhoof’s attention started to wander as an intriguing idea popped into his head. “Chemistry lecturer, you say?”
7
By the end of the week, Ben had, he felt, perfected his shop’s cleanliness and sanitation procedures. He stood by the door and when a customer entered, made them wait on the entrance mat (now helpfully marked with the words WAIT HERE. QUARANTINE ZONE) until he could take their temperature.
He had bought the infrared digital thermometer on-line. It had been expensive – there had been a bit of a run on them in the past few weeks and prices had gone up – but he felt it was worth it. The gun-shaped device allowed him to take temperatures contactlessly and he had already decided that, once this whole pandemic was over, he could use it as a pretend phaser as part of a Star Trek cosplay outfit.
“Stoop a bit,” Ben said to a tall man. The man, confused, obliged and Ben played the scanner over his temple. “Thirty-seven point two degrees.”
“What does that mean?” said the man.
“It’s a bit elevated, but you’re allowed in.”
The man, continuing to be confused, went to browse the shelves while Ben sprayed and wiped down the door handle.
“Er, what’s going on here?” The man was prodding Ben’s book protection system.
“What does it look like?” said Ben.
“It looks like you’ve wrapped all the shelves up in cling film.”
“That’s exactly what I’ve done. Germ barrier. Protects the books, protects you.”
“But—” said the man, scratching his nose.
“Face!” shouted Ben.
“What?”
“You touched your face.”
“Did I? I’m sure I only—”
“Face!”
The man w
as startled. “Do you have to do that?”
Ben nodded with conviction. “I read an article that suggested we should use nudge psychology.”
“And that means shouting at people?”
“It means if we shout at people who are touching their faces then eventually everyone will join in, and we’ll all learn not to touch our faces.”
The man didn’t look like he agreed with the perfectly sound principle but did not argue. “How am I meant to browse the books if the whole shelf is wrapped in clingfilm?”
“You only need your eyes to browse,” Ben pointed out.
“But maybe I want to look closer?”
“With your eyes?”
“I mean, what if wanted to flick through that copy of, um, The Lord of the Rings there?”
“Do you not know what the story of The Lord of the Rings is?” said Ben.
“Roughly,” the man admitted. “I’ve seen the movies.”
“Eleven hours of cinema will give you a better overview than an unhygienic thumbing of the pages, won’t it?”
“What about books I don’t know the story of?”
Ben gestured to himself proudly. “And that’s why I’m here to help. Your friendly, neighbourhood bookseller.”
“So this one?” he said, pointing.
“Er, Dune? A young man goes into the desert with his family. They’re trying to find some spice. He takes some drugs. Then there’s some giant worms. It’s a classic.”
“This one?”
“1984? It’s the Eighties. This government employee is disillusioned with his job. Then management step in. There’s some animal therapy and that makes him happy.”
“Really?” said the man, scratching his chin.
“Face!” Ben yelled.
8
“Polygamy!” Clovenhoof called through the letterbox. “I need to talk to you!”
“I’m isolating,” came a woman’s voice from within.
“That’s fine, we can talk through the door. It’s Jeremy here. I fetched your shopping.”
“Ah, thank you. Have you got my change?”
“There wasn’t any. Listen, I heard you were a chemistry boffin.”
“Were? Still am, young man,” she said from the other side of the door.
“Great,” he said. “You must know about making hand sanitizer, yeah?”
“Yes, it’s a straightforward thing to do if you have suitable ingredients. I believe there are guidelines available from the World Health Organisation.”
“So, what do you need?” asked Clovenhoof.
“Sorry?”
“I mean, you’re stuck at home, so you might as well. I’m hearing all sorts of horror stories that have been caused by the shortages.”
“It is troublesome, I admit.”
“And there’s a very strong possibility the makers of the nation’s favourite tipple—”
“Tea?”
“—Lambrini! There’s a very real danger they might switch over to hand sanitiser production and deprive the poor and needy – including my good self – of the sweetest, fizziest goodness ever produced on this earth.”
“You want to make hand sanitiser so Lambrini won’t be tempted to do so?”
“Well, anything sounds ridiculous when you say it in that tone of voice. You’ve got to help me do this. It’s how you can give back to the community, Polygamy!”
She gave a small grunt. “I suppose you’re right. Let me make a list and you can come back later today so we can make a plan. And it’s Persephone.”
“What is?”
“My name.”
“Are you sure?”
An hour later, Clovenhoof hunkered down on Persephone’s doorstep after knocking.
“Ah, there you are,” came her voice. “Now, there’s a problem with some of the key ingredients. Supplies. I suspect that you’re not the only person trying something like this.”
“How do you know this?” Clovenhoof asked.
“I looked online,” said Persephone.
“I thought older people couldn’t work the internet? Isn’t that why you need help with the shopping?”
“You cheeky sod! I need help with the shopping because there are no slots for grocery deliveries. I am perfectly capable of using the internet, thank you. Now, I’ve checked around and we’re going to have a problem getting hold of the raw alcohol.”
“Raw alcohol,” said Clovenhoof thoughtfully. “Now, I know you’re the chemist and I’m sure you know your stuff, but that’s a thing you can make, surely?”
There was an exasperated huff from inside the house. “Again, with the cheek, Jeremy! Of course it’s possible to distil alcohol, but it is very much inadvisable in a domestic setting.”
“I guess it’s mainly inadvisable to people who don’t know what they’re doing,” said Clovenhoof. “Whereas you would do it properly; and you’d probably be praised and admired for tackling a problem in a creative way.”
“You make a persuasive argument,” said Persephone. “I have a shed in the garden. I suppose that could work well for creating denatured alcohol.”
“Denatured. Talk me through what that means, exactly.”
“It’s where you put additives into the alcohol so that people won’t drink it. We wouldn’t want that would we?”
“Let’s not be too hasty,” said Clovenhoof. He didn’t want to be part of anything that involved rendering alcohol undrinkable. It went against his core values. “I mean it’s extra stuff to buy, right? We can always de-nature it if we need to afterwards.”
“I’ll set about ordering some equipment then,” said Persephone. “The shed is going to need some tidying. That can be your part of the deal.”
“Sure thing,” said Clovenhoof, who loved a mooch in someone else’s shed as much as the next person.
9
Clovenhoof had enormous fun in Persephone’s shed. It turned out she was quite the magpie.
She was serious about the social distancing, so she wouldn’t let him inside the house; but she would drop him a cup of tea on top of the dustbin while he worked. Every time she made an appearance he held up or pointed at some cool thing and asked if she was planning to get rid of it. Every time she gave an offhand shrug, and he gleefully hotfooted it back to his flat with the treasure. So far he had scored a pair of dusty binoculars, a plant pot on long spindly legs that currently featured a dead fern, and a stool shaped like an elephant. He had just discovered a children’s playhouse made from chunky pieces of plastic which slotted together. He wasn’t sure why an old woman would ever need a playhouse.
“Do you need this?” he shouted to her.
Behind the kitchen window, Persephone cupped a hand to her ear.
He shouted again, louder. She shook her head and did a complicated mime that may have meant it had been used by some grandchildren who had since grown or, possibly, that it had been conjured out of the ground by magic gnomes. Clovenhoof put it to one side, sure Ben would gladly take it to use as a coop for his stupid chickens.
Clovenhoof created so much space in the large shed there was definitely room for whatever equipment was needed for an alcohol still, along with a couple of deckchairs. He set them out in a convivial arrangement and made little cardboard labels: one saying Jeremy’s chair and the other Persephone’s chair. At some point they might be able to sit in them at the same time and chat; but for now it meant he could assure her that only one of the chairs was smeared with his potentially virus-ridden detritus.
10
Ben opened his flat door and was immediately greeted with a yelp of alarm and large piece of plastic in the face.
“What the hell, Jeremy!” he shouted.
“Satan’s balls!” exclaimed Clovenhoof, staggering back on the landing and clutching his chest. “Is that you, Ben?”
“Course it is!”
“Then what’s…?” He waved a perplexed and disgusted finger at Ben’s face.
“Oh, this?” Ben lifted the whole-face plastic mask
up onto his forehead. “It’s a great idea, isn’t it?”
“For giving me a heart attack?”
“For hygiene purposes. People are going out and getting face masks, even though they don’t work the way people think they do. I thought to myself, what’s the most important thing I can do to stop myself catching the virus?”
“Stay at home? Never see another human being again?”
“What I need to do is stop myself touching my face,” explained Ben. “If my whole face is covered with plastic then I won’t put my fingers to my face or try to rub my eye.”
“Okay,” said Clovenhoof, getting his breath back. “But what the hell is that mask meant to be?”
Ben took the mask off and looked at it. “I think it’s meant to be Shrek.”
“Shrek after the devastating crystal meth addiction and disfiguring car accident maybe!”
Ben shrugged. “I don’t know. Animal Ed had boxes of them. He was selling them as social distancing aids.”
“I bet!”
“We’ve all got to support local businesses at this delicate time,” Ben admonished him.
“Speaking of which,” said Clovenhoof, “one: Nerys says we have to have takeaway again tonight and post about it on Instagram; and two: I’ve brought you this.” He held up the pieces of plastic.
Ben read the embossed name on the side. “A Little Tikes Country Cottage Playhouse?”
“It’s for your birds.”
“Ah! Ooh! That might just work! Thank you!”
“I’m all heart me,” said Clovenhoof. He felt around his chest. “While I’ve still got one.”
11
When Clovenhoof returned to Persephone’s shed the next day, there were some newly-arrived packages. They were all stashed in the empty corner with a little note telling him not to touch them. The note also said there was a shopping list attached. Clovenhoof found it remarkable that Persephone was able to easily order the contents of an illegal lab, but for basic food supplies she relied on him. He burned with curiosity to see whatever was inside the packages, but he set off to go and get her shopping instead. He retrieved the wheeled trolley before he went: with a bit of luck the local shops might have replenished their Lambrini supply.