"Ugh! What's the day?"
"Saturday!"
"Why are you lying to me, John?"
"Why do you bother asking me, if you never believe the answer? You were pissed last night. I couldn't get any sense out of you about Olivia. You just kept talking about going to the wrong flat."
"Ugh!" Reality slapped me around the chops. Apart from Olivia being in fine fettle and out shopping, I hadn't even been knocking on the right flat. Turns out that while I was right about Olivia's flat being at the far end of the corridor, I should have turned left instead of right at the top of the stairs. The flat that I was actually hammering on, belonged to a young couple who thankfully missed my visit, due to being stranded in South America since lockdown.
"It's me who should have been knocking back the booze, after my experiences on that estate. You weren't even interested when I got in."
"Oh John, just …… Ugh!" I pulled the duvet over my head.
It was a long time before I found the will to prise myself out of bed and position myself under a shower. The kids were perfectly content, having been allowed to spend the majority of the morning in their pyjamas. John, on the other hand, was clearly agitated, pretty much pouncing on me as I entered the kitchen.
"Well …. aren't you interested in how I got on yesterday, Daisy?"
"Please let me get some juice first. In the name of God, John!"
But he ignored me. "I can barely walk today, Daisy."
"How ironic, after what you did to Gordon," I muttered, thinking about how some mornings, locating a carton of juice in the fridge, felt like an achievement.
"ALL of the packages had to be delivered to UPSTAIRS flats!"
"Stop shouting! Oh bloody hell! The juice is empty! Why do people put empty cartons back in the goddamn fridge?"
"I had to climb SIX flights of stairs to deliver the last one. SIX flights!"
"Why didn't you go in the lift?"
"The lift? Are you mad? Lifts are basically boxes of Covid, Daisy! THEN ….."
"Stop shouting!" I rubbed my temples.
"Then ….." he began, voice lowered, " …… I was greeted by a gang of teenagers at the top of the stairs, who weren't socially distancing, by any stretch of the imagination. They were really intimidating to be honest. They demanded that I put down my box, rummaged around in it, taking stuff out and everything. THEN …."
I grimaced.
"Sorry …..then ….. they made off with a Swiss roll and a jar of Nutella!"
I tutted. "Kids!"
"Is that all you've got to say?"
"Well it's hardly the crime of the century, is it? A few silly kids, nicking a cake and some Nutella."
"Is it too much to expect some sympathy, considering YOU got me into this, Daisy?"
"You brought this on yourself, John, attacking old men. You're blocking the toaster."
"I had to go to the shop and replace the items out of my own pocket, dodging kids who were running around with balls and out on bikes, and then go all the way back up six flights. The grumpy old git who lived in the flat gave me right attitude too, moaning that I was late and that he was waiting to have his pilchards on toast."
"So you didn't get a fuzzy, warm feeling from helping out?"
"NO I did not. What took you so long yesterday anyway? I'm guessing that Olivia is still with us."
"Let's just say it's a long story and leave it at that for the moment," I said, popping two slices into the toaster. We could do without yet another story with the word 'police' in it, in this house. For today, at least!
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