Alive v dead…

the next morning I called Martina Inglis’s number.

Hi! she said. How lovely to hear from you. How’re you? How’s your dad sweet heart?

Could be worse. When is your family planning to leave my house? I said.

Could be worse here too, she said. We’re staying as far away from Rory as we can, well, I am, but it’s hard when there’s only the one bathroom.

You could always all go home to your own lovely big houses, I said.

The last thing I want is covid all over my surfaces, she said.

You’re a bunch of stupid self interested wankers, I said. That’s my surfaces you’re talking about.

Oh stop kicking off, Sand. You’re safely elsewhere, she said.

I’m exceptionally lucky to have that luxury, I said.

Wish I was there, she said.

Thank God you’re not. Where the bloody hell would I go then? I said.

Ha ha. Oh wait, she said. Eden wants a word.

Hi, it’s Eden. Oh, he’s okay. He says he feels worse than he’s ever felt.

But it’s just jetlag.

I could hear a child coughing in the background.

Is that Amelie? I said.

Children don’t get it, she said.

How are you? I said.

I’ve got a bit of a sore throat but apart from that I’m all right, she said.

How’s Lea? I asked.

In your bed double-you eff aitch. That’s working from home, remember, we’ve already done that one.

Double-you eff em aitch, I said.

What? Eden said.

Working from my home, I said. When are you leaving my house?

But her mother had taken the phone again and was speaking now.

By the way, Sand, I’ve been longing to tell you, I found the most beautiful thing that the Scottish poet Robert Burns wrote and it was about

curlews. I don’t have it right here. But if I paraphrase a bit, he’s writing a letter to charm this married woman, and he says something like whenever he hears a curlew on a summer morning it always reminds him he has a soul because his soul has lifted because he heard it, and then he says, what are we, are we machines so that whatever we hear is sort of meaningless? Or does hearing it and feeling something lift inside you mean, instead, that we’re more than – and this is literally what he says – the trodden clod? Isn’t that brilliant. What a life my old friend. We’re so much more than the trodden clod, I’m telling you.

You’re telling me, I said. Yes. That’s a really beautiful thing you’ve found.

Next time I see you I’m going to find some suitable way to thank you.

I’ll take you to the museum and do a VIP tour, get them to show us the actual Boothby Lock. You’ll see, it’s like some iron version of King Midas just happened to touch a wall covered in ivy, then someone carved off and preserved a piece of its elegance for ever. And then, no getting out of it, Sand. I’m taking you skating.

Sure. We’ll do those things. One day, I said. When you all leave my house. When this pandemic is over. Whichever of those takes longest.

Great, she said. I’m already looking forward.