Bottled It – Sandra 28

 

[For back story go here: Story so far at 17 Sept 2020 and more recent Sandra episodes.]

[Other back story through in-links.]

Sandra was making flapjack. It was a simple recipe and essentially the one she could do without really thinking about it. The one she could do without worrying that if she got interrupted she’d forget where she was and the whole thing would turn into porridge or sawdust. These were absolutely the advantages she needed right now as her day was being interrupted and she couldn’t really think about anything else.

Yolanda was on the phone. Not just on the phone but forcefully on the phone and determined to get herself a bed for the night.

“You have a perfectly decent sofa,” she told Sandra. “I won’t take up much room, honestly, what harm could I do? I’d just be on your sofa during the nights and then…”

And that was the question. Then what? It wasn’t just going to be a sofa and then she’d go out gallivanting around town during the day, there really really wasn’t anywhere for her to go during the day.

“I simply can’t stay at Frankie’s anymore,” said Yolanda. “Who knows what kind of germs are around there now? And to think Jackie only lives next door, it’s not safe. It’s not really safe for those children either. The mind boggles.”

The mind did indeed boggle. Sandra wasn’t certain how to tackle this. Whether to challenge the science of if germs could actually permeate solid walls between two houses, whether Frankie’s huge knocked through downstairs space was actually a pretty good safe guard for any germs to make it from one person to another – especially compared to her own small home where essentially if either she or Yolanda did have something the other one would get it pretty swiftly. 

“Look,” said Sandra, “I still think it’s much better that you stay where you are. I mean you’ve been there a few days so you coming to me just makes it more likely that you might get something from me, doesn’t it?”

“But…”

“I’ve really got to go – work call – I’ll speak later,” scampered Sandra and she hung up.

As she pressed the flapjack down and slotted it into the pre-heated oven another option occurred to her. So she made the call.

“And to what do I owe this honour?”

“I thought someone should hear your side of the story.”

“Ha! I don’t care, I’m having a great time. House is empty, plenty of room and I’ve just discovered another box of Côtes du Rhône out in the shed. I mean, how fortuitous is that do you think? Looks like I played a blinder last time we hopped over the Channel. Course won’t be doing that again in a hurry what with one thing and several others…”

“How much have you drunk today, dad?” asked Sandra, her heart sinking faster than a whisky chaser down Eric’s throat.

“Oh, I’ve no idea. Could count the bottles I suppose but some of those were from yesserday.”

There was a click of bottles and Eric emitted an “Upsadaisy!” From the sounds of it he stayed upright, however, or seated as the case may be. At least it didn’t sound like he was wading through the empty bottles, thought Sandra.

“I wanted to talk about you and mum,” said Sandra. “Find out what’s going on.”

“Nothing’s going on,” said Eric firmly. “She’s going off.”

“Is that really what you want?” asked Sandra, although the question became more feeble and lacking in conviction as it left her mouth.

Eric responded simply by laughing which wasn’t entirely surprising but was also not in anyway useful. 

“Is there a good time to call you,” asked Sandra, “when you’re not drunk for example?”

“Oh, come now,” said Eric. “I’m at my best right now. Don’t know what the problem is.”

“The problem is Yolanda…” and Sandra got no further than this because Eric laughed so much he dropped the phone and cut them off.

Sandra hung up and stared at the flapjack timer, slowly ticking away her life, but at least bringing something sweet and energy giving towards her. Maybe she could pretend to Yolanda that she had taken her father’s side in all this and felt that offering her sofa space would mean she’d have to forfeit her inbetweener/mediator status. But she wasn’t at all sure that that would hold water.

At the end of the day she had fought long and hard to get her independence – from everyone else, from the family and so forth. Just because there was a pandemic on and her mother was panicking didn’t mean she had to sacrifice that. Did it?