One Half... – Sandra 5

[For back story see lower numbers in archive]

Sandra didn’t know where to put the letter. She didn’t know where to put it in her head and she didn’t know where to put it in her house. So she just put it on the table again and left it there. It was ten lines long, heartfelt, devastating and life changing, but hell, she thought, everything was nowadays. Why would that be any different?

Checking her watch she realised the next call was coming in five minutes. She strode purposefully to her desk in seconds flat and sat down, shifting her mindset into professional mode. As she logged on to her various social and less than social platforms she could feel the letter behind her, burning a hole through the kitchen table, then carrying on through the floor, through the flat below, into the earth, down, down towards the earth’s core before triggering the explosion that brought about the end of the world.

Twitter was comparatively quiet. There was a nervousness in the air as if everyone was waiting for everyone else to say something. She popped a couple of nondescript ‘here I am drinking coffee’ posts into the ether and opened the pitch document she thought she’d need for the forthcoming call.

The call had been set up through a friend of a friend. There was no official marketing or business link here, just someone who knew someone in need and knew someone who could help. As she understood it the business was doing sort of OK but needed to radically change its approach if it was going to survive going forward. A couple of new ideas, but they needed focus. They needed Sandra. This was true of many companies, but most hadn’t realised it yet. If this one did she would reward herself with a mochaccino. 

The call came in, audio, not visual.

“Hi,” she said, “Hello, this is Sandra Dedbury.”

“Hi,” said the voice, “Look, first things first, I have my daughter on lockdown with me and it’s proving a little difficult…”

“Completely understand,” said Sandra, “How old is she?”

“Six,” said the voice. “Sort of why I don’t want to put the video camera on – I’m er, I’m not really looking like I usually do for business.”

“No problem at all,” smiled Sandra. “You’re Daniel, right?”

“Sorry, yes, Daniel. My boss told me you’d be someone good to talk to about – stuff.”

“As long as it’s marketing stuff,” said Sandra.

“Yes, yes. We’re – we’re trying to build some kind of presence, we have this app you see, it’s a new departure and we were… hold on a second.”

There was a slight scuffle at the other end and the opening titles of Kingdom of Spakledom started up.

“Can you still hear me?” asked Daniel.

“Yes – we can do this at another time if you’d like?”

“No, no,” said Daniel, “All good. It’s going to be the same whenever. I would give her the headphones but – she broke them, sometime, not sure how but…”

Sandra giggled a little. “Do you want me to have a chat with her first?” she suggested. “That way she might watch Sparkledom without bothering you.”

“Ah, yeah, OK,” said Daniel.

For the next five minutes Sandra shot the breeze with the six year old like two old friends. The girl – Daisy she said in hushed tones – powered by the novelty of speaking to someone else (who understood the importance of sparkly nail varnish and having your favourite plastic tiara for a start) became enthusiastic, excited and then calm. Sandra was completely charmed and thankful for a few minutes of meaningful chat about other important things in life. Who cares about lockdown if you’ve to got your hair just right?

At the end of it, Daisy sat down to the Kingdom of Sparkledom without a sound.

“Do you have kids?” asked Daniel, “Sorry – we should be talking work, shouldn’t we, not…”

“It’s fine, and no I don’t,” said Sandra. 

“Wow,” said Daniel, “You’re a natural.”

“My – sister has kids,” said Sandra. “I see a lot – well, used to – see a lot of them. We get on well.”

In her mind, the letter behind her started smouldering. The handwritten biro on the surface of the page becoming red hot and singeing the paper.

The words were from Rob, of course. Written from a hospital bed somewhere. Discussing his health and his recovery so far. Noting that some things had changed and some things would never be the same again. How a near death experience changes you and your outlook on the world and makes you realise what you really want in life, what’s good, what’s bad, what’s average and what needs to be changed.

And “I got the wrong sister. I want to be with you.”

Sandra’s world lurched again, but this time the screens did not blur.