‘I’m going to Tesco tomorrow. Why don’t you drop me down a list? I bet there must be some things you need.’
‘I did eat my last crust of toast this morning,’ he admits after a pause.
‘Right: bread, what else?’
‘I have a terrible craving for crisps, beef-flavoured ones, and Super Noodles; I love them. But I can’t possibly ask you to get all those things.’
‘Look, it’s nothing. Write me a proper list with everything on it and send it down.’
‘It’s really kind of you – that would be brilliant! But I feel terrible. You’ve already got a lot on your plate.’
‘Honestly, it’s no trouble. I insist.’
‘Okay then. I’m really grateful, thanks. But there’s one thing, other than the fact you must let me give you the money.’
‘That’s fine – what’s the other thing?’
‘If you’re kindly doing some shopping for me, I’d like to at least know your name?’
‘Sophia.’
‘Jack.’
‘Nice to almost meet you, Jack,’ I say – and it is. It really is.
Chapter 4
Jack
I go back inside as Sophia says she needs to go and try to salvage her dinner, but I leave the door to the balcony open, just in case. I like her name; it suits her.
I flick on my iPad and check all the major supermarkets’ delivery slots, but they’ve got nothing sooner than my trusty slot on April 1st. I hope Sophia really is happy to shop for me. I feel bad asking her, but she didn’t seem to mind. I peer in the cupboards and make a list, crisps and peanuts at the top – not that they’re the most important, but at the moment they feel as though they are. Perhaps I should put staples at the top of the list, like bread and noodles and the other stuff at the bottom with a disclaimer: only get if you don’t mind.
I tear off another bit of paper and rewrite the list with little notes next to what’s urgent and what is just an extra luxury. I even add a few illustrations. I survey my handiwork – this is really sad. This is what lockdown does to a chap.
I flick on the iPad and select Dua Lipa’s ‘Physical’, connect to the speaker and crank up the volume. I feel more energised than I have in weeks. It must be the thought of crisps and nuts. I dance around the room, and I almost feel like breakdancing as a sudden wave of unexpected happiness washes over me. Perhaps I should take up some kind of exercise again. My old training rope lies across the back of the sofa, still attached to the Budweiser packet – I could start skipping again. Then again, Sophia might think someone’s coming through the ceiling if I bang about like that. Perhaps I’ll give it a go in the day, while she’s out. I might even do some push-ups. I need to do something to keep fit.
I catch sight of myself in the mirror and want to laugh – my hair has gone crazy. I’m going to have to shave it sometime, given that a trip to the hairdresser isn’t going to happen any time soon.
My phone buzzes round the table.
‘Hi, mate,’ I answer. It’s Dan, my friend from school. Back in the day we used to have some right old laughs. I’m really pleased to hear from him. It’s been a while and I haven’t exactly had much contact from the outside world.
‘Hi, Jack, how you doin’?’
‘Yeah okay, you know … considering.’
‘Matt said you’re having to self-isolate. That’s a right bummer. Mind you, sounds like you’re having a party.’
I turn down Dua Lipa. ‘Thought I’d liven things up a bit.’
‘The party starts at home, right? Reminds me of that night at “Urban Reef” when we all went late-night surfing.’
‘Yeah, Matt miraculously found he could super surf after several beers, until that huge wave totally took him out.’
‘It was brilliant, happy days,’ he says.
‘Feels like another lifetime, mate.’
‘I know. How are you coping on your own?’ he asks.
‘It’s okay I suppose.’ I pause a second. There’s no point in pretending it’s all great when it isn’t. ‘Well not really – it’s boring to be honest and I never thought I’d say this, but I’m a bit lonely. How’s tricks with you?’
‘Complicated.’
‘That doesn’t sound too good. Work not going well?’
‘No, the delivery job’s all right. As long as people keep their distance, and most of them don’t even come out the house. I had someone earlier