Love in Lockdown

by Chloe James

  ‘She is,’ calls Jack and I blush.

  ‘Hey, Jack,’ I squeak.

  ‘Hey,’ he answers, tentatively.

  ‘Thank you,’ I tell him. ‘It was beautiful. I can’t believe you did that for me. How did you arrange something so amazing in the middle of lockdown?’

  ‘I met the group in Greece, and we’ve kept in touch. I persuaded them to give a special performance. I know it’s not strictly shopping or an important trip as the rules dictate, but I thought it would really lift everyone’s spirits so it counts as a vital service. Also Georgio did bring Bertie some milk, so it’s technically a food delivery.’ I watch amused as one of the figures places a bag of shopping on the ground a couple of metres from Bertie.

  ‘Do you always think of everything?’ I ask.

  ‘No,’ he admits, ‘usually I’m hopeless, but since I’ve nearly met you I think anything’s possible.’

  ‘I don’t think I’ve ever had that effect on anyone.’

  I watch as the figures down below pack up as quickly as they had unpacked and the van starts to amble on its way. The neighbours including Bertie have all melted away and it’s just the two of us out in the fast-cooling evening air.

  ‘I’ve never seen a performance like that,’ I comment.

  ‘They are pretty talented aren’t they? I just wanted to find a way to let you know how much you’ve inspired me and I hope maybe they can soon get out and about to perform to people again. They don’t usually use the van but had to improvise and it’s given them the idea they could maybe go outside nursing homes, hospices – that kind of thing. They can still socially distance.’

  ‘Jack, that’s a beautiful idea; I love it.’

  ‘I just really wanted to say I’m sorry.’ I hear his voice break slightly.

  ‘You don’t need to. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s good you told me – it was just a terrible moment.’ I speak more flippantly than I feel. To be honest I’m still smarting a little from his not telling me sooner. Trust once broken is a hard thing to regain.

  ‘I should have told you before. It’s just that sometimes the most obvious things are the hardest to say.’

  ‘I know what you mean. I’ve had stuff it’s been hard to talk about too. I’ve struggled enough with my diagnosis of epilepsy.’ I wait for him to change, to say something about how horrified he is.

  ‘You have epilepsy? I had no idea.’ He doesn’t sound shocked, just concerned.

  ‘I didn’t want to tell you. It’s just that my epilepsy has a way of changing my life, my relationships. I haven’t been able to talk about it to anyone really and yet it’s only been a couple of years. I can’t imagine what it’s like for you to have been in and out of hospitals all your life. I was totally depressed about how it ruined so many things for me, but at least I had all those years without seizures – and it’s not all bad, I love my new career.’

  ‘I’ve had time to come to terms with my diagnosis. You probably haven’t yet, you’re still processing it.’

  ‘I guess.’ I take a sip of drink. ‘Do you ever really come to terms with it?’

  Jack pauses a moment. ‘You do. It’s taken me years but I guess sometimes it bothers me more than at others.’

  I nod, even though he can’t see me. ‘When I first found out I have epilepsy, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. It felt at times like I was done, finished, nothing was going to be the same again. For ages I couldn’t go out on my own, couldn’t stay in on my own. People always had to be with me and I was afraid. That’s the thing with seizures, or mine at least, I never knew when they were going to happen. Then as the meds began to work slowly, gradually, I forgot about it for several hours at a time, then hours became days. I’m one of the lucky ones, though, for some they can’t forget it; it’s something that is a part of their everyday lives.’

  ‘Eventually you’ll forget for longer,’ he tells me, ‘until it’s just normal for you; taking the daily meds, the hospital check-ups. It’s part of your life and it’s not all bad. There’s some lovely people I’ve met along the way. I’ve had a couple who maybe haven’t understood, but that’s just how it is. Why would they when it’s not them?’

  ‘It changes your perspective on things,’ I agree. ‘I’ve become less tolerant somehow. After the incredible people you meet grappling with this kind of diagnosis in hospital, the amazing hospital staff, then somehow it makes it harder to tolerate the people who just don’t get it. And then there’s how it affects your relationships.’ I pause, thinking of Ryan and how it changed things irrevocably for us. What we had was good until then, or at least it seemed as though it was.

  ‘It does change your relationships,’ he says. ‘I would never have met Laura if I hadn’t been running away from my condition, if I hadn’t been trying to be someone I’m not; good old fun-loving, comedian Jack. In the end the result was, it hurt us both and I feel really bad about that. And now here I am, just an ordinary guy stuck in my flat.’ He goes silent for a moment and I don’t know what to say. ‘The thing is,’ he continues, ‘you don’t have to tolerate the people who don’t understand. If I can find one good thing to come out of having a long-term condition, it’s that it makes you sort out what really matters to you. Cut the crap. People either accept and change with you or you leave them behind.’

  ‘That’s true, being sick meant I changed my career and a lot of other things …’ I tail off, not wanting to elaborate.

  ‘What did you do before?’

  ‘A lawyer.’

  ‘Wow – I didn’t see that one coming. But I can imagine you’d be good. You see what you want or what needs doing and you get it done.’

  I smile at his words. ‘I guess I was successful, but I don’t think I was fulfilled. Teaching every day is exhausting but I never get bored. I never think, I really don’t want to be doing this.’

  ‘I can imagine you’re perfect at it. How are the kids? I’ve missed hearing about them.’

  ‘A couple of them have really come out of themselves since the class has been so small. Both Alfie and Zane have come on leaps and bounds.’

  ‘Thanks to their teacher, I should think.’ He sounds proud; actually it’s kind of cute.

  ‘Maybe a little,’ I concede, ‘but having so few in the class has given them confidence too.’

  ‘You’re so inspirational I’ve just enrolled for a college course.’

  ‘Really? Jack, that’s fantastic. What is it?’

  ‘I always wanted to be a sports therapist as you know and I’ve just filled out the application form and pressed send. So watch this space.’

  ‘I’m so pleased for you.’ I can hear the excitement in his voice. It makes me smile. It’s so lovely to feel his passion for something he’s going to be doing. This lockdown has taken away any certainty. It’s great to have some potentially coming back.

  ‘I got side-tracked with the whole Greece thing. I was running away really, then got caught up with Laura and, well, you know the rest. But now I’m back on track.’

  ‘Good for you,’ I say. ‘When would you start?’

  ‘September, hopefully, if I get in … and if we’re out of lockdown.’

  ‘Oh I reckon we will be before then.’

  ‘I can’t imagine it now. It feels weird somehow.’

  ‘I guess it must. At least I’ve been going out. But the whole social distancing thing, it’s made me realise how important being with people is.’

  ‘Yep, I must admit I feel like I’m in some kind of bubble.’

  ‘It will end,’ I say. ‘It can’t go on forever.’

  ‘Maybe when we get out of this, you and I could go to Sparrow Hill for a walk together. If you’d like to that is?’ he asks hesitantly.

  ‘That would be lovely,’ I reply more confidently than I feel. I’m just not sure how I feel about Jack after all this. His initial failure to reveal the facts of his marriage to Laura still bothers me after what happened with Ryan. The wound of unpredictability in a relati
onship, when touched, is still raw. I still don’t know if I can trust Jack and yet he understands what I’ve been going through better than anyone, almost better than myself. I just don’t know what to think.

  Chapter 22

  Jack

  ‘So you’ve kissed and made up?’ asks Sam, whilst Carrie burbles in his ear.

  ‘Not exactly, but yeah.’ I smile as I think of my conversation with Sophia last night.

  ‘Fair play, mate, you don’t do things by halves – shadow dancers! No wonder she was blown away. Tina was well impressed and asked what went wrong with my share of the romantic-gesture gene pool.’

  ‘She really enjoyed it. And Georgio has done okay out of it. Greg, one of the other neighbours here, has booked for them to go and perform to the kids at his college.’

  ‘Surely no one’s allowed to mix?’

  ‘There’s a patch of grass opposite the college where the van can park and the screen just pulls out.’

  ‘Still sounds risky to me,’ Sam points out. ‘Police were stopping people whilst they were driving up Valence Road at the end of our street yesterday. Not that we go out except for our once-a-day walk with Carrie and once-a-week shop. But I make sure I put the shopping bags on show in the front seat in case I get stopped.’

  ‘They’re taking it seriously then,’ I reply. ‘It’s weird, I haven’t been out for so long. I don’t even know what’s happening out there.’

  ‘Trouble is there’s confusion about exactly what the rules are and where you can go and how far. I mean one form of exercise a day is fine, but then for how long? In theory you could walk for three hours and go to the next town, which you shouldn’t be visiting.’

  ‘Not many people are going to do that though are they? Although,’ I add, ‘Greg says his kids are struggling at the college. Several of them find exercise and being able to get out is their main way of managing anxiety and once a day isn’t enough.’

  ‘It must be really tough. Let’s hope it won’t be for too much longer.’

  ‘I think it will be, at least for us people shielding.’

  ‘You’ve done a month already – you can do this,’ Sam says bracingly.

  ‘I know. It’s okay. I’m busy now – in fact, speaking of which, I need to sort some messages. I’ll speak to you later.’

  ‘All right, busy busy! Bye, mate. Say hi to Sophia for me.’

  ‘Yeah, even though she doesn’t know you.’

  ‘Sounds like she soon will though.’ And with that he’s gone.

  His words make me think. I hadn’t really figured out what was going to happen when this lockdown is over, but the thought of being with Sophia and introducing her to Sam and his little family is one of most amazing things ever. It’s made me really reconsider what is important in my life.

  I check my WhatsApp. There’s a new message from Derek:

  Total disaster. I’ve gone and hurt my back and Benson is climbing the walls even more than usual. I’m worried I’m going to have nothing left in one piece. Is there some kind and energetic soul out there who might consider giving him a walk as part of their daily exercise? I would be very grateful – might even be a beer or two in it.

  There’s no replies to this so far. I immediately text Sophia.

  Hey Sophia, how are you doing? It was great to catch up last night. Have you checked out Derek’s message on WhatsApp? I’d love to walk Benson if I were allowed out. My parents used to have an Alsatian. They’re such beautiful dogs, but strong on the lead! Any ideas?

  Hi Jack, thanks so much again for the show. Just spectacular. I still can’t believe it happened. It was like a bit of magic coming into my pretty dreary routine. Don’t worry about Derek. I love dogs so I’ll take Benson on my daily walk x

  Oh wow. She’s put a kiss. She’s never done that before. Okay, Jack, don’t get overexcited it could just be a typo; maybe she forgot it was me and did it by accident. I’ll see if she does it again.

  Thanks, Sophia. I wish I could come with you x

  Okay so I’ve put a kiss, I couldn’t resist.

  Me too x

  It wasn’t a mistake. She’s put another kiss. Either that or she only did it because I put a kiss. Okay I’ve got to stop doubting myself; I’m so happy I strum out several bars on the guitar, whilst singing at the top of my lungs.

  ‘Nice singing, Jack,’ comes Sophia’s voice from below. I forgot, she can hear, but I wasn’t even sure she was in. Darn it, in an ideal world your crush can’t hear that weird crazy dancing thing you do around the room because you’re so happy they texted.

  ‘Thanks.’ I peer down into the courtyard.

  ‘I’ve messaged Derek. He’s really pleased,’ she calls. ‘I’m picking Benson up tomorrow and will be walking him every day this week, round work of course.’

  ‘That’s terrific. He looks gorgeous. Did you see the picture Derek posted of him?’

  ‘Yes he’s so fluffy. I just want to cuddle him, like a big bear.’

  ‘You talking about me again?’ asks Greg. I had no idea he was there – that’s the thing with the angle of these balconies – and he has this entirely bizarre habit of appearing every so often, well not literally of course, but we suddenly hear his voice floating from nowhere, or his saxophone.

  ‘No, didn’t know you looked like a bear, mate. She’s talking about Derek’s Alsatian.’

  ‘Fair enough, I can take the rejection. Are you walking him, did you say, Sophia?’

  ‘Yeah why?’

  ‘I just had an idea. I wondered, if Derek agrees, if you might walk him down to the college sometime? The kids would just love to see him. They’re really into animals, well apart from Stan, but he can stand back and I think he quite likes them really at a distance. You’d be amazed how responsive autistic kids are to animals. They are less complicated than people and accept the kids for who they are.’

  ‘I think that’s why we all love animals. I would so like a dog,’ I say. ‘Maybe one day.’

  ‘I reckon Derek would be fine with that, but message him on the group chat. Just let me know and I’ll walk him past.’ Sophia is on board as always. I just love how easy-going she is. Laura always took every opportunity to have an Academy-Award-winning performance or major strop over the slightest things. It was totally exhausting.

  ‘That’d be great. As long as it’s scheduled; they don’t like surprises,’ Greg comments.

  ‘That’s okay – I understand. We’ll arrange a time so they know when to expect us.’

  ‘What time are you walking tomorrow?’ I ask casually.

  ‘I don’t know. About four, I should think. Why?’

  ‘Oh no reason,’ I reply. Except of course there is a reason, a really huge, tantalisingly exciting one. If I know what time Sophia is going out she will have to walk through the courtyard and I might finally catch a glimpse of her and discover what she looks like. Not that it matters of course, but still I really want to see her. I can’t wait.

  Chapter 23

  Sophia

  ‘Five minutes,’ I call to Erica. ‘Are you going to be ready?’

  ‘Yeah, I’m just checking the veg.’

  ‘It’s done – I looked at it just now. We’ll be ready to eat afterwards.’ I look inside. As I thought, Erica is actually picking at the cold chicken left over from yesterday. ‘Oy leave that alone – there’ll be none left!’

  ‘It’s just so tasty, I can’t resist!’ Erica meanders out, still scoffing a chicken wing.

  ‘Could have brought me some,’ I comment.

  It’s 7.58 and as usual the neighbours are making their way onto their balconies or onto the courtyard below ready for the weekly clap.

  Like everything else, it has become a part of our new life. Every Thursday at 8 p.m. we all stop whatever we’re doing and clap for those heroes who are out there facing an unseen, terrifying, unthinkable battle.

  In some of the flats opposite, the windows are filled with rainbows, or Thank You NHS signs in vibrant colours. I’ve
been fascinated by a chalk drawing on the road on my way to school, where a thanks to the NHS is etched in beautifully crisp blue and white lettering. It has been there for weeks, as though held by some kind of indelible magic. I know it hasn’t rained for such a long time, but still. It must have had so many cars driving over it in spite of the quieter roads. I often wonder as I pass it who stood in the road and decorated it with chalk. I have a suspicion it might be the owners of the New Agey shop nearby, which has dream catchers and unicorns in the window. Somehow that makes me even happier, passing the chalk message each day, as though it may bring us all luck.

  I love watching how people behave during the clap. I don’t often have the opportunity to people-watch any more; the courtyard has been so quiet. But on clap nights, slowly, hesitantly, almost as though they’ve forgotten how to do it, everyone comes out of the woodwork, like mice timidly venturing forth from the shed for crumbs. Some neighbours are already chatting across the way, calling to each other across balconies, one or two standing in the courtyard below, in neatly socially distanced clusters.

  It’s a strange thing but I’ve lived here a couple of years and I don’t remember many people ever actually talking to each other, and then often only on WhatsApp. They were all too busy I guess, too wrapped up in their own lives to even pass the time of day. All like battery hens crammed into our tiny pens, living day in and day out in our own neat, compartmentalised bubbles of work and play, physically within a few metres of each other but mentally miles away. Ironically it’s taken a world pandemic and the isolation of lockdown to make us reach out to each other. To look around us and notice we aren’t desert islands marooned in the middle of an ocean, separated by miles of sea; we’re an archipelago of people, joined together by crisis, all working together to help those who can’t get out or who live alone to cope with this unprecedented situation.

  Bertie is down below talking to Mavis, who is perched on the edge of the raised flower border a couple of metres away. He looks up and I call to him. ‘Hey, Bertie?’