Munch time (Edvard) – Wayne 4 / Jenny 6

[For back story see lower numbers in archive]

Wayne was in bed. The covers were over his head and he didn’t care any more, he wasn’t going to come out. Possibly ever. Dammit, he’d stay here and have a rock and roll death, found eventually by – by – by – oh God it would be Dave from downstairs, wouldn’t it? Or someone who got the short straw, who eventually became curious, someone whose job it was to go into people’s godforsaken house and bring out the dead, and hey, on this occasion they’d strike lucky because they’d earn the notoriety for bringing out the body of ManzDown.

Except it wouldn’t be like that, would it? Being found lifeless with the covers over your head was hardly going to go down in the annuls of grime mythology. Not like choking on your own vomit after a massive party, or being hailed as the hero and saviour of music just at the point when your own frustration leads you to jump off the balcony, or leads some other no-fame-crazed individual to load their stolen shotgun and track you down… Maybe someone from the Barnz would finally see that they’d never truly get to the top while ManzDown was still standing and take out a contract. 

Except it wouldn’t be like that, would it? While Wayne had been tending to his cuts and bumps, and especially the bruises which now covered his ego, BarnStormerz and just about any other artist who wanted to take a pop at him had done so. There was a meme of a coffee mug going around now with ManzBrew emblazoned across it and a host of imaginative but not terribly complimentary ideas deposited in it. Give up now, thought Wayne, and he’d just be another name, another person mentioned in dispatches, done over by Covid.

——

Helen was in tears. Jenny couldn’t fathom what the problem was and having plied Izzy with three cups of tea before lunch she was now wishing that everyone would do precisely what Peter was doing and just SIT STILL. Jenny was beginning to feel her puzzle solving skills burning up, melting into some kind of mush in her head and possibly, though she didn’t have time to check in the bathroom mirror, seeping gently from her ears. If only she’d been able to drink one of the three cups of tea she’d made herself that morning, that might have made a difference.

“It’s just that they’re having a better time than me!” wailed Helen, finally able to find the words to express herself.

“Who?” asked Jenny, “Who are you talking about? Who can possibly be?”

“Louise. For one. And Jess. And then there’s Abi and Frankie too.”

“How are they..?”

In retrospect Jenny would wish she hadn’t asked because, having cleaned the screen a few times, it led to a longish tour around Facebook and Instagram across a number of Helen’s friends whose parents all seemed to have got this ‘quarantine in luxury’ thing down to a fine art. Helen’s school mates were pictured on sun loungers by private swimming pools, enjoying midnight feasts with older sisters, looking out over amazing rolling hills, eating some gorgeous looking home made soda bread. 

“We can make bread,” pointed out Jenny, refusing to apologise for the circumstances that led to her daughter having friends from more monied backgrounds. “And we have a back garden, and we can put the hammock up. That’s nice when it’s not raining, isn’t it? I mean, I know it is now, but it hasn’t been…. I can take a picture of you in there reading a book if you like.”

“They’ll know I’m only doing it because of them!” wailed Helen.

—-

Wayne got up and made a cup of tea. Pouring milk into his brew however, he realised something was wrong. The milk was off. The milk was off and there were no other options, His tea was destroyed.

—

“It doesn’t matter what they think..!” started Jenny.

“You don’t understand,” shouted Helen. “You never understand. You just think everything’s going to be OK and we’ll all be happy and jolly and play happy families. It’s not going to happen.”

And with that, Helen stormed out and went upstairs, impressively slamming three doors on the way.

——-

Wayne opened the door to his balcony, not sure what she was doing. He stood, looking out across the city, taking it in and breathing the air.

——

Jenny walked to her front door and opened it, not sure what she was doing. She stood, looking out at the house across the road and breathing the air.

——-

Wayne and Jenny let out a scream. Nothing over dramatic. Just a scream. Loud enough to startle the neighbours, and a few pigeons, short enough to be over and done without causing concern.

Listening carefully they were sure they heard an echo to their voices.

——-

“You alright, mate?” Dave’s voice came up from the balcony below. 

“Yeah,” said Wayne. “Got no milk.”

“No worries, I’ll drop you some by your door.”

——-

“Can I make you a cup of tea?” asked Peter, standing at the doorway to the living room.