‘Looks like I cleared the room,’ said Jordan.
Stevie unmuted herself. ‘They just want the facts.’
‘The Met will have them. Oh, hello!’ he said, suddenly recognizing her. ‘I bet you regret helping me now.’
‘No,’ she said.
‘YES SHE FUCKING DOES!’ shouted Roddy.
‘Sorry,’ said Stevie. ‘That’s my fiancé.’
Jordan pretended not to have heard. Another voice piped up. ‘Do you know how difficult it is to run my business when I can’t meet any customers? I’m at the newsagent’s on Borough Road.’
‘I hope,’ said Callintree, ‘that when the Met tell us exactly what’s going on, there’ll be a way of measuring your exposure and treating it, and we can get a timetable for our release.’
The other grey square fired up now. A young woman with a strong Indian or Pakistani accent. ‘Is it cancer? Is that what we have to be fearing?’
‘I honestly don’t know,’ Jordan said.
‘Because that would be a life sentence,’ said the woman. ‘The fear itself is the sentence, even if the person doesn’t get sick.’ Her square suddenly disappeared, as did the other one, leaving only Stevie and Jordan on the call.
‘Apologies for the shouting on my line,’ said Stevie, staring at Roddy, who pulled a face.
‘I assumed it was someone passing your window,’ said the policeman insouciantly.
‘So we find out more later. I was getting married on Saturday.’
‘I-I don’t think you are now,’ said Callintree.
‘That sounded bad though. What you said.’
‘I mustn’t speculate. I don’t know the details.’
That soundedreallybad, thought Stevie. She muted her end of the call and asked Roddy, ‘Now it’s just me and him, do you have a question you want me to ask?’
‘Cancer and radiation,’ Roddy said casually. ‘Classic state control tactic. Control through fear. Don’t accept any injections if they offer you them, Stevie, okay? Turn it off now. That muppet knows nothing. Fucking Covid needle dance puppet.’
But Stevie felt sorry for Jordan Callintree. If he knew more than he was saying, he was being very discreet. She was about to ask another question when Roddy jumped from the bed and slapped the laptop shut. ‘Fuck him and his larks.’
She looked down, a sudden anger kindling inside her. The jibes, the casual authority – Kim’s words ringing in her ears: ‘He’sthe one who’s fucking lucky.’
‘Now I want you to makemeglow,’ said Roddy.
Stevie looked up. The mirrored glasses stopped her seeing the eyes. She was staring into her own face – he must know she avoided mirrors at home. ‘Take them off.’
He loosened the drawstring on his tracksuit bottoms.
‘Not those. The glasses.’
He cocked his head to the side, smirked, obeyed. Removed them, folded the arms, passed them to her.
She held the glasses thoughtfully.
‘I wonder why you wear these, when I stay away from mirrors?’
‘Didn’t give it a thought.’
‘Expensive?’
