Love in Lockdown

by Chloe James

‘I can’t do that,’ I protest. ‘Then she’d know I’ve been ear-wigging.’

  ‘Well … you kind of have been.’

  ‘True, though I didn’t mean to. No, I’ve got a better idea than that,’ I say.

  ‘Always have a plan,’ Sam approves.

  ‘I’m going to tell her how I feel.’

  ‘That’s original,’ Sam says, sounding genuinely surprised. ‘How do you feel?’

  ‘I don’t know exactly.’

  He laughs. ‘Great start.’

  ‘Yeah right, thanks a lot. But I know I care a lot for her and I can’t imagine being without her.’

  ‘Sounds a bit needy?’

  My confidence feels shaken. This is already so far outside my comfort zone. ‘Okay that wouldn’t be good. Do you think I should change how I put it? I don’t want to sound desperate. I’m worried she just thinks I’m the sad guy who lives upstairs who she feels sorry for. Of course she’ll want to go back to this successful ex who she was going to marry.’

  ‘Well you’re going the right way about showing her that,’ Sam points out.

  ‘I don’t want to. I just don’t think he’s the right man for her – he dumped her when she got sick and changed her job because he simply couldn’t deal with it. What sort of person does that?’

  ‘Hmm yeah sounds like an idiot … but some women like bad men,’ he says with a shrug. ‘I’ve heard it’s a thing.’

  There’s a noise in the background and I can hear Tina talking. ‘She says “what do I know about women”?’ he repeats with a snort.

  ‘Tell Tina I agree; you are the last person to get women, Sam.’

  ‘I’m not talking to either of you if you’re going to gang up on me. Anyway I’m married so it’s obviously worked,’ he says.

  ‘Okay back to my thing. I’ll just tell her I love her.’

  Sam looks stunned. ‘You actually love her? How do you know? You’ve never met this girl. I mean truly love her, not just think you do or the idea of her?’

  I try not to let the doubts creep in. This is Sophia we’re talking about – if anything, I know her better because all I’ve done is listen to her, and share my deepest worries with her. ‘I do. Even if she still likes this Ryan guy, I’ll wait. I’ll do anything, I just want to carry on talking to her in the evenings, hear her laugh, her stories about the kids at school. I feel I know them, that I know her. I’ve even shouted hello to her mum on the phone. God, I feel I know her better than Laura, even though I was married to her for over a year.’

  There’s a pause as Sam digests this information. ‘Do you know, Jack, if you really feel like that, good on you. But you’re gonna have to tell her. Are you just going to shout down from your balcony?’

  ‘I’ve got a plan,’ I reply.

  ‘Come on, out with it then.’

  ‘Nope,’ I tell him, ‘you’re just going to have to wait and see.’

  ‘Oh man, you’re rotten.’

  ‘That way, if it fails you don’t need to know, and if it succeeds I’ll tell you.’

  A text announces itself on my screen. ‘Gotta go, Sam, I’ve had an urgent message from Soph.’

  ‘Bye then, good luck – hope she gives you a chance. Write a poem – she’ll love that.’

  ‘Thanks, relationship guru.’ I cut him off and finish reading Sophia’s message.

  Can I talk to you on the balcony when you’re free? It’s about Bertie – he’s found out about Elsie’s daughter x

  No? That’s bizarre, how? x

  Long story, I’ll tell you on the balcony in ten x

  I’ll prepare a couple of stiff drinks. Fancy a whisky chaser? x

  Perfect x

  Fifteen minutes later, I’m on my balcony sipping a whisky and leaning slightly over the parapet so I don’t have to shout.

  ‘How’s the drink?’ I ask.

  ‘Spot on – just what I needed,’ Sophia replies.

  ‘So what happened?’

  ‘That’s the thing, I’m not at all sure. I was just leaving Bertie to get to know Tilly, obviously I sent you the videos.’

  ‘Yeah,’ I say, smiling. ‘I’m happy for him.’

  ‘I know, it was like it was meant to be or something. But then just as I was going, he came out with it. That he’s had this email from a girl, Flora Bird, who says she’s Elsie’s daughter.’

  I’m puzzled. ‘But how did that happen, when we didn’t give him the letter?’

  ‘Apparently he just got this email from her. She was going to write to him, a proper letter, but was worried it wouldn’t get to him because of the lockdown. So she sent him an email. Apparently Flora received a letter in the post a couple of months ago, from Elsie.’

  ‘But that’s not possible,’ I say. ‘How can she have been sent a letter from Elsie when she’s been dead for over a year?’

  ‘That’s what none of us can understand.’

  ‘Strange.’ I shiver in spite of the warmth of the whisky. The thought is slightly creepy. ‘So is Bertie okay? How has he taken the news?’

  ‘He seems okay considering. I mean he’s bemused and was wondering if it was some kind of scam, but what she knew about Elsie added up, and she sent him a screenshot of the letter that was written in Elsie’s handwriting.’

  ‘So he believes it’s really her. What did she say to him? Is she nice?’

  ‘He said it’s a really lovely, friendly message; obviously it’s been a shock for her as well, because she had no idea. Apparently Elsie originally decided it was best to just leave things as they were, but when she knew she was sick, she felt she had to try to find Flora.’

  ‘Strange, you’d have thought she’d have done that before.’

  ‘Yes you would. I can’t imagine how awful it must have been to give up a child.’

  ‘Things were different then though weren’t they?’ I ask. ‘Maybe she had to, maybe her family didn’t approve.’

  ‘That’s what Flora wrote in her email. She believed until fairly recently her adopted parents were her real mum and dad.’

  ‘Phew that’s heavy,’ I say. ‘So what’s Bertie going to do?’

  ‘Well, Flora lives in France with her French husband, but she wants to set up a Zoom call to speak to him.’

  ‘Is he going to?’

  ‘Apparently he’s up for it.’

  ‘But before that we need to give him the letter. Have you told him about it?’

  ‘Yes, I did. I felt terrible that we’ve kept this a secret. I said we’d only just found it and hadn’t wanted to upset him. He seemed to understand but obviously I felt awkward about the whole thing.’

  ‘Yeah it is pretty bad, but we did only just find the letter and we were going to tell him; we were just waiting for the right time. So have you given it to him?’

  ‘No not yet, but I wanted to surprise him with the box and I thought I’d put the letter in, so he could read it himself as it was meant to be seen.’

  ‘You think Elsie wanted him to read it then?’

  ‘I do, otherwise she would never have written it.’

  ‘But she never gave it to him,’ he points out, ‘although someone sent Flora a letter and it can’t have been Elsie.’

  ‘Yes.’ Her voice sounds a bit anxious. ‘Even though it was in Elsie’s handwriting, she can’t have sent it. It can’t have taken that long in the post. I think I’ll have another whisky.’

  This seems a good idea and I pour another measure. Just as I thought things couldn’t get any more confusing, they have, and it’s not just with Bertie’s dilemma. Sophia hasn’t mentioned Ryan once since her conversation with him the other day and neither have I, but his presence hovers in the air, as unfathomable and unspoken between us as the puzzle over who sent Elsie’s letter.

  Chapter 37

  Sophia

  ‘What about this one? Don’t you think it’s a brilliant one of Mum and Mark?’ enthuses Jess. We’re on a Zoom call, looking through pictures of her wedding.

  ‘Yes, they look so happ
y. I can’t believe how many great images you’ve got,’ I say.

  ‘I know. That’s the good thing about it all being online – there’s plenty of opportunity for photos to save.’

  ‘Your dress was beautiful,’ I say.

  ‘Be your turn next,’ says Jess matter-of-factly. ‘You caught the bouquet, so there’s no escaping it.’

  ‘You sent the bouquet. Who else could have caught it? And anyway who believes in that stuff?’

  ‘I do, actually,’ she sniffs, ‘and I happen to know a certain someone might be missing you and hoping you feel the same way too.’

  ‘I can’t imagine who you mean. Uncle Jim looks smart in this one doesn’t he?’

  ‘Don’t change the subject, Soph.’ Man, Jess can be persistent when she gets going.

  ‘If you mean Ryan, I know. He phoned the other night,’ I say.

  ‘Oh that’s wonderful, Soph, I’m so happy for you,’ she gushes. ‘He messaged me the other day and said he just can’t live without you. Isn’t that the most romantic thing you ever heard?’

  ‘It would have been if he had said that a year ago,’ I say.

  ‘Well I know,’ Jess says, brushing this off, ‘but maybe he needed this lockdown to really think about how he feels. Perhaps it’s done us all good to have time at home, to work stuff out.’

  ‘Whatever his reasons, I’m confused, Jess. I just don’t know whether I want to give him another chance.’

  ‘It’s not exactly starting again is it? You’ve been together for years. It will be like riding a bike,’ she says confidently.

  ‘Even though you remember how to pedal, you can still fall off,’ I point out.

  ‘That’s a bit cynical for you, Sophia.’

  ‘Maybe I’m having to toughen up.’ I shrug. ‘We’ve been apart now for quite a while. It’s been hard.’ My voice catches, annoyingly.

  ‘I know, Soph,’ she says, softening, ‘and you’ve done amazingly. I don’t know anyone else who would cope with what you have, and look at you. You’ve totally changed careers, the kids love you, you’ve kept going, you’ve helped me with the wedding, been helping everyone out during this lockdown. But maybe it’s time for you to think of you and no one else. This is your life. You deserve to be happy.’

  ‘I know and I think I’ve come to a decision.’

  ‘That’s wonderful! So have you told Ryan?’

  ‘No, not yet. He said he’d give me some time to think about everything.’

  ‘Phone him now,’ she encourages. ‘We can finish the pics another time. I thought I’d do a slideshow of some of them. Also, I was thinking …’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘I don’t know what you think, but I was planning a wedding do after lockdown.’

  ‘What? Another wedding?’ I’m filled with horror.

  ‘No not another wedding; just a post wedding, wedding celebration.’

  ‘Jess,’ I shriek.

  ‘What?’ she asks innocently.

  ‘You really are something else!’

  Once I’ve finally finished the Zoom call with Jess I wander bemusedly out onto the balcony. ‘Jack?’ I call as I can feel he might be up there. It’s a beautiful day and he often sits on the balcony in the middle of the day and when I’m not working we sit and chat over lunch.

  ‘Hey, Sophia,’ he answers. ‘How’s it going?’

  ‘It’s going!’ I groan. ‘You’re never going to guess what?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Jess is planning another wedding celebration for after lockdown.’

  ‘Just one more?’ Jack teases.

  ‘I’m not sure I can cope.’

  ‘What does Zach say?’

  ‘I expect he’ll try to talk her out of it … and then give in gracefully!’

  ‘He sounds a wise man.’

  ‘Yeah right!’ I laugh. ‘Anyway, I do have some good news. Elsie’s writing box is ready so I’m picking it up on my way back from the shopping trip this afternoon and I’ve arranged to take it round to Bertie, with the letter back where it should be.’

  ‘That’s great. Does it look good?’

  ‘Chris says he’s pretty pleased with it. I can’t wait to see Bertie’s face, although I’m not sure how to best support him with the letter. He’s still not sure whether to call Flora or not.’

  ‘No.’ Jack pauses for a moment. ‘How about I text Mavis to come along?’

  ‘Mavis?’ I ask. ‘Why?’

  ‘I don’t know, I just feel as though she could be someone to have around as he opens it.’

  ‘I was thinking of being there.’

  ‘Oh – what time will you be back?’ He sounds disappointed.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I say, ‘probably by eight. Why?’

  ‘I’ve got something I wanted to talk to you about this evening.’

  ‘Sounds serious.’

  ‘No, well at least I hope it’s a good thing. Say about 9 p.m.?’

  ‘Okay, that’s fine. We normally chat then anyway.’

  ‘I know, I was just checking you were available.’

  ‘Oh. I’m feeling nervous now,’ I say, trying to laugh it off.

  ‘You don’t need to be.’

  ‘I’ll take your word for it.’

  ‘’Til later then,’ Jack says.

  ‘Okay … bye.’

  ‘Bye.’

  There’s a pause.

  ‘Are you still there?’ he asks.

  ‘Yes are you?’ I answer.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Okay I’m going now then.’

  ‘Me too.’ I listen and can tell he’s listening too.

  ‘Okay, let’s go in at the same time,’ I tell him, laughing at the absurdity of it.

  ‘On the count of three.’

  ‘Okay, one, two …’

  ‘Three …’ he says, and I hear him pull the door shut upstairs at the same time as me. I smile and wander into the flat. What on earth is he up to this time?

  I don’t have much time to think on it any more as I have to go and pick up Elsie’s case on the way back from the weekly shop so I don’t break any rules by going out on an unnecessary trip. The supermarket is a complete nightmare as I was obediently following the one-way system, as always, then realised I had forgotten something on the shelf a few metres back. With a woman and her trolley right behind me I had no choice but to go all round the shop again and by that time, I’d forgotten what it was I was trying to buy.

  Finally after this shopping ordeal (when did it ever get so complicated?), I manage to get to Chris’s house – thank goodness he’s all ready for me, bringing the case out and placing it on the seat outside his house and stepping back for me to look at it. It’s tiny and he’s quite a big guy, but he must be delicate with his movements as he handles the case as though it’s made of glass.

  ‘Wow,’ I say staring at it disbelievingly. ‘It’s beautiful.’

  It is; he’s polished it until the walnut is shining like glass. It looks as though it has just been newly crafted rather than restored to its former glory. Gingerly, with bated breath, I lift the lid and inside the small sections are revealed, all fitted neatly back together.

  ‘That compartment at the back is most unusual. Has a secret door.’ I step back as he carefully presses on the bottom of the case and the panel slides back. ‘It’s not unheard of for these nineteenth-century cases to have a hidden compartment in them. Shame there wasn’t something in there.’

  ‘Maybe there was,’ I say with a smile.

  Bertie is waiting out the front of his house as I arrive at 7 p.m. as planned. Tilly appears at his feet, her tail wagging like a banner. She is totally at home here already, and she gives me an ecstatic welcome. By the front gate, Mavis is perching at an acceptable distance, on the wall. Jack is obviously really efficient when he gets going. I smile at her. ‘Hello, Mavis, did Tilly give you a welcome?’

  ‘Yes she’s a darling,’ she says, ‘gave me a paw very politely.’

  Bertie looks at th
e carefully wrapped package in my arms. ‘Is it mended?’ he asks eyeing it impatiently.

  ‘Yes it is,’ I say, ‘and I think Chris has done an incredible job.’ Delicately I unwrap the case and place it gently down on a small table Bertie has put out ready. ‘What do you think?’

  Bertie stands and stares at the writing case for a moment. ‘My gosh, Sophia, it’s as though you’ve turned back the clock.’ He walks forward and reverently touches the shiny wood, feeling with his roughened fingers along the new but carefully matched hinges. He opens it and peers with pleasure at the fixed compartments ready for letters and envelopes. ‘I shall put them back in there,’ he says. ‘It will be a pleasure to restock the letters and stamps, just as it was when Elsie was using it.’ He looks at me with shining eyes. ‘She would be as pleased as punch to see this restored to its old beauty.’

  ‘She’ll be looking down,’ says Mavis with certainty.

  ‘That she will,’ he agrees. ‘Now …’ He brushes away a couple of stray tears that have trickled down his wind-roughened cheeks. ‘Show me where this little hidey hole is then, love.’

  I wait for him to step back a couple of metres, then press on the small panel at the base of the case and obediently the panel slips back to reveal Elsie’s letter just as it was when I had discovered it.

  Bertie puts out a shaking hand and slides out the letter, gazes at it for a second and then opens it up, the sight of the familiar handwriting bringing more tears to his eyes. ‘It’s as though she’s just finished writing it,’ he says.

  ‘You go in, love, and read it. We’ll wait,’ says Mavis kindly.

  As though in a dream Bertie walks in, Tilly at his heels, and he shuts the door. I’m so glad he’s got such a lovely little dog; she’ll look after him.

  For a moment we both look at each other. ‘I hope he’s okay with this and it doesn’t upset him too much,’ I say at last.

  ‘It’ll be the making of him,’ Mavis says with much more confidence than I feel. ‘You’ll see. I knew that – and so did Elsie, when she asked me to send the other letter to Flora.’

  It takes me a moment to register what she’s said. ‘You? But why? When did you send it?’

  Mavis laughs. ‘All these questions. When she knew she was becoming more unwell, Elsie gave me the letter for safekeeping. She said she’d written one for Bertie, but she was in two minds about giving it to him. So she gave me one, which she asked me to send to Flora when the time was right.’