"Jesus H Christ Daisy! Those roots are out of control!"
"Hello to you as well, Karen!" I said adjusting the screen of my laptop to a more suitable distance from my head.
"That's better!" she said. "Ooh look out! Here comes Vyshali!"
A little purple square with the name Marge popped up. "Yay! She's done it!" I said. "How's Dave?"
"What's that?" I could see Karen squinting a bit as if straining to hear. There was some horrible, squeaky feedback that seemed to be sounding every time Vyshali's purple square flickered.
"Dave. How's Dave? Ah here she is! Vyshali! Vysh! Turn your phone around! You're sideways Vysh!"
"Can you see me now?" shouted Vyshali, way more loudly than was necessary.
"Yes, but you're sideways hun," said Karen. "Turn your phone portrait."
"Am I ok now?"
"You're upside down!" Karen and I chorused.
"Where's Sarah?" she asked. We could only see her from the eyes up now, but at least she was upright.
Not gonna lie, what followed wasn't the easiest or most pleasurable conversation I've ever had in my life. It's times like these when you realise what loudmouths you and your friends really are: cutting across each other, interjecting, jumping in with supporting comments and sounds, you name it. It was a style of discourse that just did not work in this situation. At one point, Karen, being the teacher in our midst, suggested raising a hand to speak, but that arrangement only lasted two minutes.
Basically, the gist of it was that Dave was continuing to drive Karen insane with his melodrama. When Vyshali said, "But I thought he had Coronavirus!" her response was, "Does he fuck! It's particularly mucussy and fucking loud dose of manflu!" Then she took a very large swig from a tumbler, in a manner that told me (knowing Karen as I do) that it didn't contain apple juice.
Vyshali told us that she could do nothing whatsoever with her kids. They slept all day and ran wild at night. Their father had been unable to visit them or honour his side of the custody arrangement, as he and his girlfriend had been self-isolating since the end of February. The doctor once gave Mariah (the girlfriend) an asthma pump when she was a child so they 'didn't want to take any chances'.
"She still is a fucking child!" said Karen before taking another swig of her 'apple juice'.
It took ten times as long to pass on this amount of information in our 'conversation' as it normally would in the pub or coffee shop, what with all of the speaking over each other and the way that Vyshali's voice kept turning to 'dalek mode' whenever her signal went funny, causing interference down the line for the rest of us.
"Sit still Vyshali!" Karen would snap at intervals.
"I am fucking still!"
Throughout all of this, Karen, who very impressively seemed to be able to simultaneously speak to us and read WhatsApp messages on her phone, kept us informed on Sarah's activities. She had been delayed because she was fixing Charlie, her boyfriend, some brunch.
"Mug!" I said.
"Why can't he fry his own eggs?" asked Karen.
"They're still in that lovey-dovey phase," said Vyshali.
"Pah!" said Karen.
By the time Sarah joined us, we were all starting to tire of the effort involved. Didn't houseparties used to involve dressing up in your nice clothes, moving around freely and laughing? Instead, here we were, all looking like washed-out slobs, sitting rigidly in our chairs and telling each other off every time we moved or spoke out of turn.
"Maybe we'll be better at this, next time," said Karen. "Let's try again next week, yeah?"
"But I've only been on 5 minutes!" Sarah complained.
"11 o'clock, we said!" said Karen firmly. "Perhaps it's time that Charlie learned to butter his own toast, Sarah. There's a pandemic out there. How would he manage if you caught it and died, eh?"
"True!" added Vyshali.
"Actually, I'd better go," I said. "I've left the twins in front of 'The Texas Chainsaw Massacre' with a flagon of cider."
"Really?" Sarah and Vyshali chorused.
"Course not! In front of Fifa with a box of dry Cheerios, but I suppose I'd better start some homeschooling."
"It's Saturday!" Karen said.
"Yes!!! Result!"
The fact that it was Saturday - officially a school-free day - meant that I could turn the twins out into the garden with a Capri Sun each and a football. John was messing about with his leaf-blower or some bloody contraption, so I cracked on with the laundry. How the hell was it that the laundry basket had been FULL every day this week when no one (apart from me venturing to Tesco) had been anywhere. I knew for a fact that John was wearing the same t shirt today, that he slept in last night and my pink joggers were on their third day.
I'd just added fabric conditioner when …..
"MUM! MUUUUUM!"
Ffs! Why was it always Mum? Their father was actually in the garden!
"Ball?" I shouted.
"Yep. It's gone over Mum!" called Marcus.
John was there in a flash. "Ok. Nobody move. Let's think about this."
Both kids were frozen and I had to tell Molly to exhale as she was clearly holding her breath and turning a weird shade of pink.
"It's alright! I've got it!" called Gordon. "I'll throw it back. Catch!"
"Get down!!" John bellowed. "Take cover everyone!"
The twins screamed and ran under the patio table as the ball bounced across the lawn."
"Of all the irresponsible ….." John began.
"John!" I shot him my fiercest I dare you to fuck with me look. "Thanks Gordon!" I called. "Right! Everybody in!"
Great! I was going to have to hear about how Gordon had put the whole family in peril, for the rest of the day now.
It took me approximately thirty seconds to decide on the best course of action; I gave the twins back their X Box controllers and went in the bath with a 3 pack of Walnut Whips.
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