The visit to the village

They’d talked of little else on that morning’s walk and had postponed the visit to the village three days on the trot. If they didn’t do it soon Brendan’s dole payment would be returned by the village post office to the Department of Social Welfare.

Neighbours had been shopping for them but Nora hadn’t wanted to burden them with a large shop so it had just been a few essentials each time they offered. Milk, bread, fresh vegetables of any ilk and a bottle of Bushmills whiskey. The latter made her sound an alcoholic but the shopping trips on their behalf were few and the alcohol was well diluted when it was consumed.

They explored shopping for food online and at first thought that a nationwide supermarket only delivered to local towns. That was until their delivery van tootled down their own country lane. Nora had picked up the phone and checked out the free delivery for the over sixty-fives in this rural area. Though she rang a Dublin phone code she got a nice country woman and when Nora came clean, as she could never lie and said that she wouldn’t be sixty-five for another six months, the customer services woman said “Aren’t you lucky because its November here in Galway!” and proceeded to set her up on the scheme. So that sorted them out for the food and drink.

However her husbands dole payment was another matter, as was the petrol needed for the lawn mower and the paint needed for the deck plus the compost needed for her plants. As the days passed the list grew longer and the urgency grew to exit their two kilometre safe zone and pick up supplies. The longer it went the more they grew fearful of what lurked outside, stuck to door handles or just hanging in the air waiting to snare a human.

She drove them down to the village as he’d need to get out and fill the containers with petrol having first wiped the petrol pump with an anti-bacterial wipe. Brendan donned a pair of disposable gloves as she drove and dispensed wisdom simultaneously.

“Now you have the gloves on do not touch your face and do not return to this car with the gloves. Put them in the bin outside Centra when you are done with them. So its get the dole first, then over to Tom’s Hardware to collect and settle for the petrol. Finally get the other stuff. I’ll have the hand sanitizer ready on your return to the car.”

“You have your shopping list?” she asked.

He fumbled in his old jacket returning with the list in his hand.

“Good man. Now put it safely away and remember which pocket you put it in.”

“And you have your bank card with you?”

Another search of the pockets by Brendan, eventually ended with the card brandished for her to see.

“Try to keep the bill under €50 euro so you can tap it and avoid touching the keypad” she advised.

He nodded. He sensed the tension in the car and was eager to defuse it. Staying silent and agreeable seemed a sensible approach to take. He earnestly hoped he would remember all the instructions.

They drove into the village and sought out the bottle bank to off load the bags of bottles that filled the cars back seats. They found a set of six banks overflowing with bottles and cans. It seems the councils bottle bank collections were viewed as non-essential services. Their glass passengers would be travelling home with them today.

Back across the village they drove until Nora indicated a turn left and she parked alongside the closed hairdressers. There they ran through their plan one more time before they stepped out of the car. If he thought he was being trusted to complete the mission alone he was sorely mistaken.

The petrol & diesel pumps were in the forecourt of Toms Hardware with the Post Office set behind them. Just beyond was the village supermarket and public house. Brendan was relieved to find the Post Office devoid of customers and he collected the cash without incident. Nora stood gazing through the window watching his every move. She stood ready to sterilise him at the first sight of a dangerous action.

Onto the petrol pumps Brendan walked where he helped himself to the petrol filling his two containers. He noted the amount on the pump and recited it to himself on the walk back to the car. It was only when he’d returned to the car and deposited the petrol that he noticed he’d torn one of his gloves. His bare thumb lay revealed with the torn glove fabric dangling around it. He glanced around. She hadn’t spotted it! He pulled the fabric back into place and joined the queue of socially distanced customers outside Tom’s Hardware.

Finally it was his turn and as he moved forward he probably breached the two metre distance when passing the departing shopper. The counter stood a foot inside the shop and a large screen separated him from Deirdre, Tom’s wife and her team of young assistants.

He found the list and began to work his way through it, under the watching eyes of his Nora. Lord don’t let me make a mistake he prayed. Let everything on the list be in stock too. Deirdre had no cabin paint so a four way discussion started with the woman queued behind him, his wife stood to his left and himself and Deirdre. Apparently everyone in the area doesn’t waste their money on the Ronseal expensive tins of wood paint. Oh no, they use masonry paint on wooden decks, walls and fences.

“Anyway we don’t have the Ronseal paint in stock” informed Deirdre so after due consideration Brendan decided not to buy anything at all.

The other items on his list were in stock and along with the petrol his bill was €50.40 cents.

He’d have to touch the keypad! Nora watched as he entered the digits. Brendan on reflection thought he might have been able to enter them with his knuckles but the deed was done.

Then came bad news. Deirdre had sold three bags of compost she didn’t have. She was out of stock, her young man informed her. Nora settled on two bags of another supplier of compost and Deirdre beckoned Brendan forward. Suddenly she placed a single euro coin in the palm of his hand for the price difference and stepped back smiling warmly at him.

He looked in horror at the coin now nestling in the soft centre palm of his hand. If it had been a lump of burning hot coal that just hopped out of the fire grate, he couldn’t have welcomed it less. He almost pulled his hand away when he realised what she was doing but managed to suppress the urge and keep his hand open and in place.

It was as if she’d passed to him the virus itself so unwelcome was the coin. It was all he could do to nod to her while his brain whirled away filled with indecision and trying to chose the correct option because there was always a correct option. This possibility hadn’t featured in their scripted run-through for the mission. He found himself thrust centre stage with all eyes upon him and a decision awaited.

Well, he couldn’t get rid of the coin fast enough! His exposed thumb had rubbed against it so with a prayer he stuffed it in his trouser pocket and glanced for approval at Nora. She looked on expressionless. Maybe she’d been as flummoxed by the turn of events as he. He managed to mumble some thanks to Deirdre and moved away from the counter.

The young shop assistant carried the two heavy bags of compost out and he stored them in their car boot. Brendan walked to the Centra bin and carefully removed the gloves turning them inside out in the process. He left the bin and on arriving at the car Nora was awaiting with anti-bacterial liquid soap and a clean tissue.

With him scrubbed clean and dry they both sat back exhausted by the ordeal. They’d barely been in the village seven minutes but it felt like a lifetime. Home and isolation beckoned and they welcomed it.

This is one of a collection of Covad-19 short stories that I plan to publish. The pandemic affects some of us in small ways whilst with others it destroys life and their meaning for life. I am so aware of our well being, as I write, and we will continue to play this deadly game of hide and seek with our invisible enemy.