Love in Lockdown

by Chloe James

  Chapter 25

  Sophia

  The first part of my walk with Benson is totally taken up with trying to keep a firm grip on his lead; this dog has the strength of a horse.

  ‘Are you sure you’ll be all right, love?’ Derek had asked, almost cowering away from the large boisterous dog as he barged towards me and out of the front door. Benson that is, not Derek.

  ‘He’ll be fine. I’m sure he’ll calm down after some exercise,’ I say more positively than I feel. He is super wired. I’ve seen working Border collies with less energy than this thunderbolt of long limbs, fluff and vitality.

  ‘I hope so. He has been very cooped up,’ Derek said, hovering like an overanxious parent about to leave their child at nursery for the first time.

  Fortunately I was out of view as soon as I left the courtyard – he had been making me nervous. I had already planned my route, as the only stretches of green around us have become a hive of activity. The whole town has only one place to visit for their daily exercise, making it increasingly difficult to socially distance. Mind you, Benson would soon clear a space if I let him off his lead right now. He would have knocked people over like skittles.

  I have to choose somewhere that isn’t so appealing to the crowds trying to get their daily exercise, whilst I check out how much I can control this super bouncy pup. Instead of heading towards the park, I make for the back of the local industrial estate, where there is a patch of waste grassland that backs on to what looks a bit like swamp. I’ll have to hope Benson doesn’t like water.

  We pass Mavis on the other side of the street at top speed and I can barely shout, ‘Hi, Mavis, lovely day,’ and she can barely reply, ‘Looking after that livewire! Good luck!’ before I am off again. We manage to reach our destination without too much trouble, considering. I find my pace has quickened dramatically as Alsatians have a long loping stride, which requires a fast walk/half run to keep up. And then of course there’s the whole social distancing rigmarole.

  I find myself smiling apologetically as I take a wide berth round a couple coming towards me on the main road. It seems to work. They smile and nod back; it kind of takes the sting out of the physical rejection of the action. At least the roads are quiet; it makes it easier to walk round people safely. I have never known the streets be so silent. The main road near us is usually a nightmare to cross but today as every other day at the moment, it is deserted and I cross with ease, which is a relief, as I don’t really want to touch the button at the pedestrian crossing.

  I walk round another corner and an old couple leap into the road abruptly as though I have the plague, crossing with a distressing urgency. I don’t blame them at all, but it brings home the weirdness of the situation. We have been cannoned into a strange new apocalyptic world of physical and for some mental isolation. One where hugs, a friendly pat on the shoulder or any contact at all is forbidden. Sometimes I feel as though I’m in some film, one that I didn’t audition for, and at any time now all the crew will come out from behind the scenes saying, ‘Okay, folks, that’s a wrap,’ and we’ll all go back to normal, whatever that was.

  As I walk past the sheltered housing flats near the industrial estate, I find myself wondering how the people shut inside, not even able to take daily exercise, are coping. They must be barely able to see the sky from here, cooped up in their little boxes. I fervently hope they get to spend time socially distanced in the dining room or something so at least they get to see a friendly face once each day. As I continue walking past, I notice it actually looks deserted apart from a colourful smattering of cheerful posters, probably done by young relatives, consisting of rainbows and flowers and thank you NHS displays. It lifts my spirits just seeing them, those and the cuddly teddies and rabbits carefully arranged in the windows.

  In fact I feel super cheerful, as I continue to ride the recent rollercoaster of emotions, sad one minute, jubilant the next over the triumph of the indomitable human spirit over adversity. I start to hum as Benson and I cross the final road and he leaps up at me, catching my sudden lift in mood.

  The wasteland behind the deserted estate is a great idea. There’s no one else here and having checked the coast is clear of cars or unwitting passers-by, I let Benson off for a run. He’s off with one huge bound, charging towards the shrubland and bushes beyond. Maybe I should have kept him on a lead, but a long line would have hampered him. He needs to run; he’s been so cooped up.

  ‘Benson! Benson, here, boy!’ I yell, hoping he will listen. At first he doesn’t and I momentarily panic. How on earth would I explain to Derek I’ve lost his dog, but then he comes to a full emergency stop, all four long legs ridiculously splayed under him. Then he turns sharply and comes running back to me at full tilt. For a second I feel pretty stressed, as I’m half worried he might not stop and completely take me out, but he doesn’t. Miraculously he skids to a halt by my side. ‘Clever dog.’ I reward him with one of his liver treats.

  After a play with the ball, which Derek kindly provided, I start to meander home. Thank goodness. Though I haven’t managed to wear him out – I know the warnings of not overexercising young Shepherds – he walks nicely alongside me. I pass some neat little bungalows, with their tiny pebble gardens or their pretty little display pots, and for the first time in weeks, I drink in the beauty of my surroundings. It may be suburban but everywhere there are small splashes of colour, a rockery with miniature pink flowers and tiny blue harebells here, a pot of vivid geraniums there. I duck under a couple of pink blossom trees, which are early this year, but are a sure sign May is on its way. The birds, emboldened by the quietness of the streets, flit to pick up grubs not far from my feet and I feel reassured by the fact that in spite of our troubles, Mother Nature is just keeping right on going regardless and there is great comfort in that.

  One of the things that fascinates me since this lockdown is the abundant life unexpectedly growing on the verges of the roads. I have never thought about verges before as I drove or walked past, unless there are poppies or wild flowers growing by the side of the road making a particularly beautiful display. Road edges were just there, a normal part of life. I never thought about people needing to maintain them. But since lockdown, the neglected verges have become jungles of long grasses, stretching triffid-like towards the sky. The secret anarchist in me takes a delight in this rebellion against our human need to control every space, as a whole variety of flowers are growing in places you don’t expect to see them. Our human loss has been nature’s gain.

  Benson is ridiculously pleased to see his owner again and Derek is thrilled to have had a break. ‘I don’t know how to thank you, Sophia, I really don’t!’

  ‘Honestly you don’t need to,’ I assure him. ‘I loved every minute of it. I enjoyed getting out for a walk and it’s lovely to have some doggy company. Jack and I were thinking of maybe trying to find a rescue dog for Bertie. He seems so down lately and it must be really tough since Elsie died.’

  ‘That would be marvellous. A dog would do him the world of good. But you don’t want anything too lively. Take it from me!’

  ‘Definitely not,’ I agree. ‘I was thinking a small dog, maybe a Jack Russell or a Cavalier King Charles; they’re always really sweet and happy to have a walk but just as pleased to have a nap!’

  ‘That’s what I think he needs … and maybe a bit older, not a pup?’ Derek lovingly pats Benson on his head as he tries to shove his soggy and bedraggled squeaky duck into his hand. ‘Look at this guy, still lots of energy!’

  ‘You’re right, any breed is going to be lively when they’re young. Maybe an older dog who just wants someone to give them a fuss, lots of company and a nice ramble every day.’

  ‘You could put an advert out on WhatsApp?’ Derek suggests.

  ‘That’s an idea, but I was trying to make it a surprise.’

  Derek starts to laugh. ‘Not sure surprises are a good thing where animals are concerned! Anyway it’s the sort of thing that’s nice to plan.’


  I feel foolish. ‘Yes, fair point. Of course, Bertie might not want another dog. I’ll talk to Jack about it. He knows him better than me. Anyway – got to dash, I have to get dinner on. Erica’s on late shift again tonight.’

  ‘Bye, love, and thanks again. Say thank you, Benson! Speak!’

  ‘Woof!’ Benson happily joins in and Derek gives him a treat.

  ‘Been practising that all week he has – there’s a good lad!’

  Benson gives another loud woof and I wave. I don’t know why but I always wave at dogs. Jess used to tell me it was perfectly normal as long as they didn’t ever wave back.

  My phone rings as I’m on the way back to my flat. ‘Hey, Jess,’ I answer it.

  ‘How’s it going? Seems ages since I spoke to you.’

  ‘I know, it does.’ It’s only been a week or so, but then Jess and I usually speak nearly every day. ‘How’s loved-up married life?’

  ‘Can’t complain.’ She laughs. ‘Okay, so it’s been wonderful. I really didn’t expect much from a honeymoon in the middle of a lockdown. I mean it’s not exactly romantic, or so you would think.’

  ‘Well yeah. I mean no, not really.’

  ‘It was fab though. Just being able to not have to go and do anything. We enjoyed romantic movies in bed, ordered takeaway, sat in our gazebo in the sun and watched our wedding all over again.’ I’ve never heard Jess so relaxed and chilled.

  ‘Sounds perfect.’ I smile. ‘It’s like you’re in your own little romantic bubble.’

  ‘I guess it is … though it’s almost made me feel guilty.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she muses. ‘I suppose it’s because we’re in the middle of a pandemic. Things are stressful for so many people, and we’ve just switched it all off.’

  ‘I don’t think that’s selfish; you’re allowed your honeymoon. Besides, looking after your mental health in lockdown is important. At first I watched all the briefings, but I was getting so upset, I’ve given myself a social media and news break.’

  ‘Sensible,’ Jess agrees. ‘I guess it’s about being aware, but not depressing yourself totally. Speaking of which, that’s the only thing with taking a break from reality … the return to work is a bit of a shock!’

  ‘Wouldn’t know – I haven’t had a break from it yet!’

  ‘How’s things going with Jack?’ Jess changes the conversation with all the subtlety of a rhino in full charge.

  ‘Good, he’s a nice guy and got his friends to do the most amazing shadow acrobatics in the courtyard to say sorry.’

  ‘Sorry.’ I hear a rustling in the background. ‘I had to put down my packet of crisps. I thought you said he put on shadow acrobatics.’

  ‘Yep, he did.’

  ‘Oh my gosh, Soph, this guy is a keeper.’ She lowers her voice. ‘Even Zach has never done anything like that, though he can be pretty thoughtful. Although wait a minute.’ Jess snaps back to her usual whippet sharpness. ‘You said it was to say sorry. What did he have to apologise for?’

  I sigh. ‘It’s a long story.’

  ‘I have plenty of time.’

  ‘Well it’s nothing really. He just forgot to tell me he’s still married.’

  ‘Oh.’ Her tone becomes serious. ‘That’s not good. Why didn’t he mention it before?’

  ‘He didn’t want to talk about it. Anyway, we’re only friends so why would it matter?’

  ‘Because friends don’t keep things from each other.’ Annoyingly, she has voiced the anxieties I had thought I had put to bed. ‘Hmm he sounds immature to me. You had enough problems with Ryan being unsure of what he wanted in life. Sounds like you’ve found another one.’

  ‘Maybe.’ I try not to feel disappointed at Jess’s words. ‘It doesn’t matter in any case, I’ve forgiven him as a friend and that’s all he is.’

  ‘But …’

  ‘Sorry, I’ve just arrived back at the flat. Speak to you later, bye, bye …’

  And with that, I flick the red button. Ha, I’m quite proud of myself. For the first time ever, I have managed to stop Jess’s inquisition. Besides I don’t want to think about exactly how I feel about Jack right now; it’s easier not to.

  Later that evening, I’m sitting on my balcony sipping a rose lemon spritzer mocktail. It’s one of Jack’s latest creations. ‘This is delicious. You have totally nailed it … this time,’ I tease.

  ‘Uh-huh,’ he agrees from above. ‘I have to say this is one of my better ones.’

  ‘Hope you’ve made a note of the recipe?’

  ‘Of course, it’s all in my little book.’

  ‘Not your little black book?’ I joke. Oops, where the heck did that come from? I’m not drinking alcohol so I don’t even have that as an excuse.

  ‘Nope, I don’t have one of those. It’s an old scrappy notebook that I’ve had for about a hundred years. It’s embarrassing-looking really.’

  ‘I’ll have to order you another one,’ I say making a mental note although I’ve already ordered a few too many things online lately. It’s far too easy to do, even if the delivery times are longer due to priority quite rightly being given to essentials, and there’s loads of things you still can’t get. Like disinfectant wipes – apparently they’ve been requisitioned or something.

  ‘So are we ready for the Balcony Ensemble?’ asks Greg.

  ‘Yes it is that time I think,’ Jack says. ‘Thanks for the interview help, Soph, I think it hopefully went quite well.’

  I smile at his use of the abbreviation of my name. Only my close friends and family call me that. It sounds perfect and somewhere inside there’s a warm fuzzy feeling in my stomach, a feeling I thought I’d forgotten.

  I lean out over the balcony as slowly the courtyard begins to show signs of life. Mavis arrives with her cavernous bag of stuff, the one she’s never seen without, from which she unpacks a mac and an unfolding chair. Bertie comes round the corner with his usual precise small steps and on the balconies opposite, usually deserted except for during the clap, faces start appearing.

  ‘Okay,’ calls Jack, after a pause whilst he waits for everyone to settle. It’s hard for everyone to hear as the courtyard is echoey and Bertie puts his hand to his ear.

  ‘Are you all ready?’ shouts Jack loudly.

  Bertie and Mavis give the thumbs up and the couple with a young child in the flat opposite smile and wave.

  ‘Right, “I’m Still Standing”, we’ll have a run-through from the start and see how we go. Apologies in advance for the sound quality but this speaker is as good as we’ve got at the moment and it will be on high volume.’

  I hear Jack moving about above.

  ‘Bear with me a second, there’s a problem with the wire.’

  ‘Just a minute, Jack?’ I call.

  ‘Yeah?’ he replies.

  ‘Mavis is trying to get your attention.’

  She is, she’s waving her mac and what looks like a shoe in the air.

  ‘What is it, Mavis?’

  ‘Anyone lost a sandal?’ she asks, waving a blue shoe, which looks a bit worse for wear, in the air. It’s muddy and has a half-broken strap.

  ‘What are you doing with my best blue sandals?’ Marge appears from under the archway. ‘That’s mine and what on earth has happened to it?’

  Mavis stands her ground but is rather flustered. ‘I just found it in the raised bed here; I think I must have sat on it. It was half buried.’ Ever observant of social distancing, she advances a few steps and places it gingerly on the ground a few metres away from Marge’s feet. It looks rather pathetic all alone on the floor in the middle of the courtyard. It’s so dirty and bedraggled.

  ‘How did it get like that for crying out loud?’ Marge is outraged.

  Bertie starts a great chuckle, which makes his sides heave with mirth. ‘I reckon it’s those young foxes that have been raiding the bins round here. Cheeky rascals! Either that, or someone thought they could grow shoes if they planted them in the ground.’

  Ther
e’s a ripple of laughter round the courtyard. Marge does not share in this humour. ‘My sandal was not in the bin. They’re my best pair.’

  ‘Not any more,’ remarks Greg and I have a job not to snort.

  ‘These foxes have been taking stuff from my garden too,’ says Bert, trying to placate Marge. ‘They’re young and will play with anything. Did you leave your sandals outside?’

  Marge deflates, holding the sandal, or what’s left of it, delicately between her fingers. ‘Well I suppose I could have done … but only for a short while.’

  ‘That’s all it takes,’ says Bertie, ‘cheeky little things they are.’

  ‘Well I don’t know what they want with my sandal,’ remarks Marge. She looks round at all the people gathered, and seems to remember that she’s a woman not to be trifled with. ‘And if there’s too much noise-making with this singing I shall be on to the council!’

  ‘She’ll be lucky to get hold of anyone there at the moment,’ mutters Greg.

  ‘We’ll keep it down, dear,’ says Mavis soothingly. ‘And we’ll let you know if we find your other sandal!’

  Chapter 26

  Jack

  Marge, although evidently still not happy, has conceded defeat and disappeared back through the archway still carrying what’s left of her blue sandal. Who knew that foxes would take a sandal, chew it up and bury it in a flower border? I guess they’re more like dogs than we thought, unless it was Benson all along and Derek is staying quiet for health and safety reasons.

  Since Marge’s stroppy exit, the courtyard echoes with talk and laughter. ‘Hey guys!’ I call. ‘Shall we get back to the music?’

  There’s general agreement. ‘Ready when you are, Jack!’ says Bertie waving the sheets aloft in his hand.