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Page 62 - Shopaholic

A political shitstorm was raging today, which kept John occupied. He relentlessly scrolled through his phone, only raising his head to rant or to read me some random celebrity's irate tweet. At lunchtime, me and the kids face-timed my parents, who told us that they could only spare ten minutes as they were preparing a barbeque. Five minutes of the call was spent as it usually was, with my mother's individual greetings to the kids. Cleo had to yet again remind her that school was shut, when she enquired about how her GCSEs were going.
     "What are you doing for the bank holiday?" she asked me.
     "Bank holiday? What are you on about?"
     "It's Whitsun bank holiday weekend, darling."
     "Can't be. Anyway, what do you mean, 'what are we doing'?"
     "Well, sometimes you go away, don't you?"
     "Seriously Mum. How many times ……"
    But her attention was no longer on me. "What's that about the marinade, Ron?" she called out. "Sorry, darling. Got to go. Your father said that he's ready for the steaks to go on the barbeque now."
     Dad waved his tongs at us from the background, calling, "Bye all!" And off they popped.
     "Can we have a barbeque, Mum?" Molly asked.
     "Ask your father."

It was decided that we'd mark the bank holiday with a barbeque tomorrow, which meant that someone needed to get some shopping in. "Bloody scandalous! A sorry excuse of a government!" John was shouting, from the lounge. I volunteered for the expedition very quickly.
     Having lost track of the calendar MANY weeks ago, I had forgotten about Sunday opening hours, so following a long wait in a queue, my trip around the supermarket's single-file, one-way system, was somewhat rushed. By the time I got to the most important bit - the wines and spirits - the security guard never seemed to be more than two metres away from me, with a positively hostile expression on her face. Couldn't blame her really. The store was closing in the next few minutes and I'd had all week to do this, after all. Under her gaze, I felt like a total alkie, as each bottle found its way into my bulging trolley.
     Once again, the bloody bill was sky high.
     I'd just strapped myself into my car, when a car that I recognised pulled in a few bays along -Vyshali. A completely shocking and unexpected wave of emotion surged in me, to the point where my eyes started to blur. Was this actually the first time that I'd seen any of my friends or family in the actual flesh in the last two months? Well, I saw Rosie a few weeks ago in this very place, but that incident was best forgotten.
     Vyshali had spotted me and was making her way over. Cant lie; I'd seen her looking better. In all the years that I'd known Vyshali, I'd only ever seen her wear a tracksuit on the rare occasions that she met me at the gym, and then it was a clean one!  I wound my window down and she kept her distance.
     "Oh Vysh!" I said. "I feel like I want to cry.  It's so lovely to see you."
     "You too. I wish I could give you a hug. I so need one," she said. "Why's it so quiet here?"
     "It's closed, Vysh.  It's Sunday."
     "Oh no! I've done it again! My brain's gone to shit since I've been off work! The kids are gonna go nuts."
     "Well, are you ok for the basics? Can I help you out?"
     Her eyes flicked about in her head as she considered my question. "Well ….. I have bread and milk, teabags, eggs …. but ….. could you perhaps sort me out with a roll of toilet paper? You know …. just to see us through the night."
     "Yep. No worries. I have some in the boot. Anything else?" She stood back as I got out of the car.
     "I don't suppose …. well, the kids are out of crisps.  I don't suppose you've got maybe a bag of Doritos or something in there, have you? I promised I'd bring them some snacks for a movie tonight."
     I opened the boot and cast my eyes over its contents. "I can maybe do you a tube of Pringles? Sour Cream and Chive though. I can spare you a family-sized pack of Cheese Balls too."
     "That should hold them for tonight. Thanks, Dais. Can't wait for them to go back to school!"
     "Do they need anything else, Vysh?"
     "Wine?"
     It was as I was handing over a bottle, that a small woman in a floaty, floral dress came purposefully striding towards us, calling, "Daisy! Vyshali!"
     Vyshali grimaced. "Remind me what her name is again," she said, through clenched teeth.
     "Diana. She's the mother of that girl in our kids' class who ….. "
     "Hi! How is everyone? How are the children doing?" she asked, glancing at Vyshali's arms, now full of groceries from my still-open boot.
     "Oh, you know," said Vyshali. "Surviving until school's back."
     "Really?" said Diana, with a little tilt of the head and a twitch of her bottom lip, designed to emulate a look of sympathy.
     "You?" I felt I had to ask.
     "Busy. All that home-schooling! I'm glad it's half term so that we can relax the timetable a bit. I've just popped into the supermarket to top up on some essentials for tomorrow's baking session with Imelda-Mae. We're making wholemeal koji-berry muffins."
     "Yummy!" I said, sidling over to cover the shameful contents of my boot as best I could.
     "She's unstoppable! We're actually reading books from the GCSE English Literature syllabus now."
     "Lucky Imelda-Mae," said Vyshali. "Anyway, I'd better go. I need to get home to  ….. um …. "
     "Oh, yeah …. me too …. all that ….. yeah."
     No sooner had my bum hit my car seat than my phone pinged.

WhatsApp:

Vyshali: Twat!😝
   
     It had to be said, that a big benefit of the lockdown was that it made it a lot easier to avoid the likes of Diana Whatever-the-hell-her-name-was. No school concerts or birthday parties! 🎉
     I kept quite a few items stashed in the boot for the time being, having spent far more than I should. John occupied himself with the usual decontamination routine in the kitchen (though I have to say, he was getting less thorough with every shop). It wasn't until I checked the receipt that I noticed that one of the bottles of wine that I had so hastily deposited into my trolley, cost £23.50! 😮 There's a good chance that it was the bottle that I gave to Vyshali.
   
     

     

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