Undercover

Ben looked out the window.  Too much time on his hands, you might think, but no, he was at work, at home. He’d been furloughed being in the Finance area. Had been furnished with a laptop complete with the necessary apps.  IT wasn’t his thing, but this working from home business meant he was now an IT techy come pension administrator. He was stuck. A glitch in his system.

Gavin over the road was in IT for the same company, but they weren’t allowed to mix for fear the virus would spread. Ben laughed to himself. It used to be PC viruses him and Gavin discussed. Not now. Those were the least of his worries. Ben had his wife to worry about. She had emphysema and she and their two boys were shielding with her mother.

This working from home, fixing IT issues wasn’t all bad, meant more break times.  He could make his own coffee and look out the window without being frowned upon.  This morning, the computer germs created a perfect pause and he used this time wisely, checking out the activity in his neighbourhood.  He needed a clear coast for his task at hand. He had set the louvre blinds at just the right angle so he could see out but nobody could see in. Then he eyed up the gardens.

His was a small patch, just big enough for a red robin bush, a tub with daffy’s, a birdhouse and a whirly-gig. Unfortunately, it was very close to his neighbour’s small yard and his bushes, where, through the gaps in the hedge, a car could be seen, jacked up on bricks.  Gavin was underneath, tinkering.

Living next to Gavin there was Sue.  She was friends with Ben’s mother-in-law.  Yeah everybody knew everybody else in this area.   Sue was doing bunny hops around her lawn.  Then some bum crunches.  She wore fuchsia leggings and a black lycra vest. Very nice. Ben liked the look.

Sue spotted him at the window and waved, mouthing something while miming, ‘open your window.’  God, how had she spotted him. “How are you coping?” he heard her say on opening the window.  “Did you hear Adam down the road has been struck by the virus?” she added before he could speak. ” No, that’s awful, ” Ben said putting on his compassionate look.  He didn’t know Adam from Eve.

“Hi mate,” Gavin shouted. “Your old dear still at her ma’s?” “She is that Gav, missing her madly,” Ben said conscious of the washing machine murmuring in the corner of the kitchen, talking to the bubbling pot of minestrone. Ben waved to his neighbours and made his excuses to leave the chat.

He usually sat with Gavin, on the bus in to work, but could take him or leave him, they had nothing in common.  Ben liked cooking, Gavin eating.  Ben liked opera while Gavin was a Meatloaf fan.  Gavin worked out with weights to become muscle bound, Ben danced, keeping lean and supple.  Could Gavin put his leg up around his neck?  Ben didn’t think so.

The door-bell rang just as Ben was taking the soup off the heat.  He walked through the hall to the door.  A parcel sat there on the step as if it has been beamed down, all important, only void of ribbons the words Majorette supplies scrolled across the brown cardboard.

“What’s that you’ve been ordering?” shouted Gavin, sidling up to the fence.
Privacy.  Was he allowed no privacy?  “Man, is it not time for your daily walk?” he asked his neighbour who stood hands on hips, his biceps bulging from his boiler suit.  “Later,” shouted Gavin.  Ben pursed his lips, picked up the parcel and pranced back indoors. He guessed his neighbour wasn’t going anywhere soon.

The washing was done now and his laptop was beeping.  Ben swayed on the balls of his feet for a second.  What to attend to first?  Parcel, washing or emails.  The emails won.  His head was down and a tap tap on the keyboard, a woodpecker in heat, when a whistling sounded. A warble not associated with any local birds he’d heard.   Wait, that funny little incantation sounded familiar.  Could it be?  Ben peered out the window and there was Gavin, whistling the same tune he’d been whistling for the last five long weeks. Gavin was whistling and walking out, at last.

Ben looked across at Sue’s.  Her car was gone.  She must be away her weekly shopping.  He must hurry.  Where’s that blasted laundry basket.  He ran from room to room, eyes flashing side to side and eventually found it in the spare bedroom, hidden under a pile of laundered towels. Back to the kitchen and the washing machine was quickly emptied before he pivoted himself out to the garden and his whirly.  He pegged the garments efficiently but meticulously, didn’t want peg marks in awkward places, and the job was soon done.

He sighed and then strut back into the house.  He sat again at his laptop, waiting another email and looked out to the garden while he did.  He had a couple of hours. His washing would surely dry in two hours. Yes, two hours would do it and it would be back in before his neighbours returned.  Gavin always walked for two and a half hours, same route, up and down valley upon valley to keep his gluteus maximus tight and Sue took about three hours, whatever she got up to.

Ben relaxed with a cup of coffee and a ginger nut. He crossed his legs neatly, a feeling of satisfaction surging through him as he watched his pastel pink dressing gown dancing on the whirly-gig. He’d pulled it out of his private collection of outfits, hidden in the attic for years. And the delight he’d felt to discover again his silver leggings and matching leotard was more than he could cope with. Washed now, hung and waving with pride.

What was that? Ben heard the side gate rattle. Probably the wind. He sank further into his seat by the window and rested his eyes. Then a yelp of throaty proportions caused him to sit to attention. “Ben,” he heard his wife yell. “I knew it,” she roared, her lungs apparently recovered. Ben dived up from the chair, like a deranged meerkat. “You’ve got a bloody woman in there,” she bawled, her chubby hands screwed into fists.

 

 

 

If you wish to like, comment or follow please keep scrolling passed the adverts.  Many thanks for reading.  Jan.