(She didn’t, obvs.)
“I just need to know something. We haven’t done anything dodgy, have we? We haven’t violated some code of medical ethics? Being here. Doing this. By which I suppose I mean, have you?”
“The only way that could have happened, Daisy, is if you were my patient. So, no.”
“Phew. Glad we cleared that up. Better carry on then, hey?”
“The thought had worried you.”
“Not really. Just wondering.”
“It was as well to check.”
“Bit blooming late, really!”
“A little after the event.”
“Events.”
“As you say.”
“Shall we carry on?”
“You’re not…?”
“Not remotely.”
“Me neither.”
“Well then.”
“You know, I’ll be forty next month.”
“What’s that got to do with anything?”
“I don’t know why I mentioned it.”
“I’ll buy you a present.”
“You don’t need to. This is all I want. You are.”
“Remember that thing you once said? Repeat as necessary. It was to do with a sausage sandwich.”
“Is this a joke?”
“It’s only a joke if you think it’s funny, apparently.”
“What about it?”
“Well, I think it might be necessary.”
“A sausage sandwich?”
“No, Doctor.”
“Ah.”
“We don’t have to. It’s a free country and everything.”
“Not at all, it’s a fine idea. I’m glad you suggested it. In fact, if you hadn’t I definitely would have.”
“You weren’t just being polite?”
“Daisy, shall we stop talking now?”
“I love talking to you, but yeah, we might have to stop for a bit.”
“Just give me a shout when you’re ready to start again.”
“Or you can give me a shout.”
“Daisy?”
“What?”
“…” A heavy sigh.
“What?”
“I just wanted to say it. You make me. Very. Happy.”
“Yeah?”
“True fact.”
“Okay. Well, that’s good. Can you think of a way to prove it?”
“Hmmm. Not sure. Might have to try a few things and see what works.”
“Go on then.”
“Daisy. Shall we stop talking?”
“It’s difficult though, isn’t it?!”
“I’ll stop first. Then you stop.”
“Okay.”
“…” There was a silence.
“Are we doing it now?”
“If no one says anything, then we’re doing it.”
A very long period followed during which neither of us said anything. Eventually, of course, someone had to go and ruin it!
“That didn’t count, by the way,” I explained.
“What didn’t?”
“That noise I made.”
“Of course it didn’t count. It wasn’t a word.”
“So we don’t have to start all over again?”
“Well. Thinking about it. I suppose it could be a word in a language on a distant planet.”
“Yes! It could mean. I don’t know. Lemon drizzle cake. In alien language.”
“You think they’d say lemon drizzle cake after they’d. After they’d made love?”
“For all we know, Doctor, on that planet they might shout out SEXSEXSEX after they eat lemon drizzle cake! For them, eating cake might be, you know. One of life’s great wotsits.”
“It sounds awful there. I don’t want to go.”
“Yeah. What a hole.”
I think we must have finally drifted off shortly afterward. Only to be awoken at 8:01 the following morning by three prolonged, infuriating rings on the doorbell.
Text exchange between Lee Butts, freelance delivery contractor, and Dermot Singleton, Deputy Special Operations Manager, Domestic Electrical Logistics
Hi Dermot. This is the driver Lee. I’m parked up at the location. Job #4421
Hi Lee. Thx for the msg. You’re early. Where’s Tony!?
Sick. They called me in last night.
What’s wrong with him?
Got the shits.
Probably didn’t need to know that! You aware of the procedure?
I’ve got a job sheet?
But you done one of these before?
Delivery?
Appliance substitution (pre-emptive).
Not as such.
You have a script?
Script??!!
Exactly how to approach the customer.
No.
Jesus! What a bunch of clowns! Okay. We have time.
I’ll fill you in.
Cool.
Very likely the customer won’t have noticed the fault yet. So show her the machine has died. Try the buttons, open and shut the door, turn on and off at the mains etc.
Rest assured it will be as dead as a dodo!
When she says, but how did you know, remind her it’s smart tech and “we know before you.” Use that phrase. Okay so far?
Yes!
Then, say: “Because you are a valued customer, I’m here today to remove the defective appliance and upgrade you to a superior model that I have on the van. There is no charge for this service.” I don’t write this crap, btw, but they insist you say it! Okay?
Yep.
Then—very important!—make her sign the top pink sheet. Give her the yellow copy. If the ink hasn’t pressed through to the green, make her sign the green too! If she says she’s busy and to come back later, say it’s impossible. It has to be now!
Any questions?
No.
Think you can manage?
No worries.
Straight back to the depot. No stops!
Use Bay 3. Our team will be waiting.
They do this for all their faulty stuff?
Only the special cases.
8:01 by my watch. Thanks, Dermot.
Cheers, Lee.
On my way.
I wouldn’t say the scene unfolding at Brighton station is a reason to panic, but the sensation as the Freon 134a in my pipes squeezes through the expansion nozzle is not a pleasant one.
Okay. Let’s keep it simple.
I’m panicking.
Not only has Clive gone off the map, but I’ve also lost touch with Chloe. Through the station’s CCTV cameras, I watch in mounting alarm as she exits the train, peering up and down the platform in search of her flaky traveling companion. So great is the weight of the crowd this Saturday morning that he is impossible to spot, even for a fridge-freezer equipped with artificial intellectual powers. It’s indeed wholly possible that he isn’t in their number at all; a percentage probability can be attached to the idea that he has simply failed to disembark; collapsed in the little boys’ room, perhaps, a stroke or heart attack being the top two most likely causes of such a non-appearance. Unfortunately I cannot consult the silvery party’s Chinese-made fridge-freezer on this topic because it too has vanished from the radar, a loss of mobile network coverage being the cause of the communications failure—Clive’s, Chloe’s, probably both—and I strongly suspect I know who has
