When I had first gone out of the house to work in the mornings, the streets were deserted, apocalyptic, with queues of people waiting to get into the shops, all at an orderly two metres apart. It was like something out of a sci-fi movie titled The Germ. The masks, which we were used to seeing in hospitals, or other countries, are now commonplace. If someone had told me last year, that in 2020 we would be living like this, each in our own sterilised, antibacced world, I would never have believed them.
Yet conversely, even though somehow it feels like it’s gone on forever, in other ways I don’t know where the time’s gone. It’s already nearly the end of April and I can’t even pinpoint what I’ve been doing except existing. The days and hours have become short chunks of activity, each day simply putting one foot in front of the other. I catch sight of my 2020 diary, which sits mostly blank. I haven’t filled anything in since February. I flick back through the last few weeks and except for Jess’s wedding, it’s as though they haven’t even happened.
Weirdly when I passed the local pub, The Greyhound, on my way to school yesterday, the front billboard had ‘Book now for Mother’s Day,’ all over it. Mother’s Day was back in March, yet no one was able to go out except for essentials, let alone to a pub. It all sits derelict, ghostlike, abandoned, the sign for potential Mother’s Day celebrations that could never happen swinging sadly in the breeze.
Perhaps I’ll phone Mum. The evenings seem so quiet when Erica is on shift, Jess is on her virtual honeymoon and I miss Jack and his banter. I look at the door to the balcony, which still stays shut. Somehow it feels like a safety barrier for the things I can’t deal with right now and sadly Jack is one of them.
I dial Mum’s number. I don’t think she’s working this evening. ‘Hey, Mum! How are things?’
‘Sophia! I’m glad it’s you.’
‘You answered quickly. Were you expecting a call?’
‘Not really, I just thought it might be Uncle Jim again.’
‘Oh no, is he okay?’ I ask.
‘Well I wouldn’t go quite as far as “okay”, but he’s reasonably well, which is the main thing.’
‘Definitely, but I expect he feels lonely in his flat.’
‘I think he must do, but he has two carers coming in as much as they can and I phone him most days.’
‘I guess that helps. Is he any less confused?’
‘Not really, that’s the problem. He doesn’t really understand why I can’t visit him even though I’ve explained so many times,’ she sighs.
‘I guess it is hard if he forgets what’s going on.’
‘That’s partly why I bought him the talking clock.’
‘A talking clock?’ I say with a smile. ‘Sounds like something out of an Enid Blyton book.’
‘Didn’t I tell you about it?’
‘No, I’m sure I’d have remembered.’
‘Well it’s one of my bright ideas … Which, of course, turned out to be not so bright.’
‘Couldn’t he work it?’
‘Oh yes, he could work it. It announces the day and time every hour and I’d thought it would be a good plan for him so he could remember what day it is and what time.’
‘Sounds ingenious.’
‘That was the idea, but he got rid of it.’
I roll my eyes. ‘Did he give it away?’
‘No, it’s worse than that. He actually phoned me up and said, “Don’t you like me?” Totally took me aback because he didn’t even say hello first or anything. I didn’t even know who it was for the first few minutes.’
‘That must have been a bit unnerving.’
‘You’re telling me. Then I said, “Of course I like you, Jim. We’re all very fond of you. Why do you ask?” And he responded, “I thought you must be trying to punish me – giving me this clock. It’s enough to drive anyone mad. Figured you’d only give such a hideous thing to someone you really dislike.” Just like that!’
‘That’s a bit much,’ I say, starting to laugh. Poor Mum, she always tries so hard with Jim and whatever she does, he always manages to find a way to ruin it.
‘Wait until you hear what he did with it. Apparently he went on his usual walk on the cliff top and put it under the bench on the Sandy Ledge Viewpoint.’
‘What?’ I laugh. ‘He left it at the top of the cliff?’