Handwash Hysteria (Clovenhoof: The Isolation Chronicles Book 2) Read online

  “No, you misunderstand,” he said. “It’s part of the MyCamera app. Your feed is made available through an unsecured web server. So anyone can watch it if they want.”

  “And it seems that the Sex Goblin’s ‘MyBirds’ channel is getting a lot of traffic right now,” said Nerys.

  Ben pulled out his own phone to check. “There are seven thousand people logged in right now…”

  “You see?”

  “Seven thousand people worldwide, watching my chickens…”

  “It’s not normal, is it?”

  “They’re celebrities,” he added, a note of wonder in his voice.

  “Yeah, I don’t think you’re taking the right message from this, Ben,” she said. “People think you’re a creepy pervert.”

  “With celebrity chickens,” he said.

  Nerys sighed. “I can’t stay here and argue with you. I’ve got a lunch date.”

  “Supporting local businesses again?” Ben shook his head. “You and Tina are going to eat yourselves into an early grave before either of you will give in.”

  “Actually, Tina and I have called a temporary truce,” said Nerys, pleased with herself. “We’re going to meet for lunch, draw a line under this thing, and continue our good community works as a partnership rather than as competitors.”

  “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

  “Believe what you like, Sex Goblin,” she said and went downstairs.

  As she stepped outside the house, she spotted a pink shopping trolley on the pavement. She frowned, remembering. Hadn’t Persephone mentioned using a pink shopping trolley? She’d also said something in her text about hanging onto it. Tina had been the one who had taken possession of it, so why was it here?

  Nerys opened it up to take a look. There were several large bottles of clear liquid, which made Nerys raise her eyebrows with surprise. There was also a scrunched-up shopping list in the bottom, signed Persephone. Now she was certain that she had evidence of Tina’s duplicity. Well, she knew where she’d find Tina, so she might as well confront her with this. They might be lunching together to bury the hatchet, but there was no problem in getting in a few victory blows beforehand.

  Nerys wheeled the trolley smartly behind her as she walked to the high street.

  They had agreed to meet at Korean BBQ House. Nerys had some reservations about Korean barbecue, a restaurant that gave you ingredients and a heat source, then basically left you to get on with cooking it yourself. Who was adding the value here?

  Still, Tina had picked and was adamant. There was no way Nerys was going to eat in while Tina swanned round being a loyal supporter of every local business.

  Nerys found the Korean barbecue restaurant was deserted. The pictures on the website were of a crowded interior, everyone sharing a happy communal eating experience. Reality was slightly more dismal.

  Tina was already there, sipping a sparkling water. “Nerys! So nice to see that outfit. Again.”

  “Tina, darling! You must tell me who treats your crows’ feet!”

  “Ah, you ladies know each other,” said the owner.

  “Oh, we do,” said Tina darkly. “Old work colleagues.”

  “Old friends,” said Nerys.

  “One of us older than the other.”

  “Four months,” said Nerys, sitting down.

  There was an elaborate extraction system with a hood over every table. It made a subdued whooshing sound. The owner leaned over and ignited the hot plate sitting between them.

  “Quiet today?” she said to him.

  “It is most unfortunate,” said the owner. “The government has told everyone to avoid restaurants and pubs, but they have not told us to close.”

  “Why is that unfortunate? We’re here, aren’t we?” Nerys said.

  “Oh, yes,” he said with fake cheer. “But we are operating at a loss, even with just me working like today. If the government would force us to close then I could at least make a claim on the insurance.”

  Nerys tutted at the injustice of it all. Her recent experiences of trying to claim on her travel insurance for her ruined holiday had sullied her opinions of the whole insurance sector.

  The owner left them to look through the menus.

  “Italy was lovely, by the way,” said Nerys.

  “Glad to hear it,” said Tina.

  “We can’t thank you enough for entering us for that newlyweds competition.”

  Tina gave a brittle smile. “And how is life as the new Mrs Clovenhoof?”

  “I’m keeping my maiden name,” said Nerys. “We live our own lives.”

  “Sad and alone.”

  “Better than jumping into a different man’s bed every night.”

  Tina shook her head like she had no idea who Nerys was talking about. “What’s a sex goblin?”

  “Oh, you saw that on the internet too?”

  “I mean over there,” said Tina and pointed out the window. Across the road, someone had spray-painted across the windows and door of Books ’n’ Bobs the words PISS OFF SEX GOBLIN PERVE.

  “Oh, dear,” said Nerys and got out her phone. She took a photo and sent it to Ben.

  “Why do people engage in such wanton vandalism?” sighed Tina. “They should focus on noble charitable endeavours like you and I.”

  Nerys lowered her menu. “I know your game. You’ve been stealing my vulnerable people!”

  “Sorry? I’ve been what?” Tina asked, with her brightest smile.

  “Your shopping for the vulnerable.”

  “I don’t like to talk about my charity work,” said Tina, fanning herself.

  “I know you’re empire-building or something,” said Nerys. “You stole one off my patch.”

  “Your patch? Do you live among the poor and vulnerable? I know the Chester Road is run down, but I didn’t realise you were in the slums now.”

  “Persephone!”

  “Bless you,” said Tina and giggled.

  “You stole her from me.”

  “Oh Nerys, are there some fumes from the barbecue addling your brain or something? I would definitely remember if I’d been shopping for someone called that.”

  The owner returned. Tina reeled off a list of orders. Nerys had no appetite and made no contribution. The owner backed away to fetch their food.

  “If someone from your ‘patch’ did come to me—” began Tina, but was interrupted by a bang at the window.

  Ben, still wearing his stupid troll mask was up against the window. He ran over to his graffiti-struck shop.

  “Jesus crap!” said Tina. “What’s that?”

  “That’s the sex goblin,” said Nerys. “Sorry, you were just about to lie about stealing my vulnerable people.”

  Tina slowly tore herself away from the sight of sex goblin Ben trying the rub off spray paint with his jumper sleeve.

  “I was saying,” she said, trying to remember what she was saying, “if someone did come to me it’s probably because you just don’t hit it off with some people. You don’t have my people skills.”

  “Is that so?” sneered Nerys. “Well, you should know I’m taking my doing good deeds to the next level?”

  “What next level?”

  “Professional.” Nerys let the word hang between them. “I’ve just applied for and accepted a job as Customer Satisfaction Manager for Dukoko.”

  “The supermarket delivery people?”

  “The very same. Meanwhile you’re resorting to stealing my vulnerable clients.”

  “Still no idea what you’re talking about, darling.”

  “What about this then?” said Nerys, whisking the trolley into their eyeline.

  “I did wonder what you were doing with that,” said Tina. “I thought it was some sort of ironic bag lady look you were trying to pull off. I was convinced.”

  “No, this belongs to Persephone and you’ve been using it to buy her gin, or whatever this is. Admit it, Tina, you’re so desperate to be popular that you’re sucking up to people who literally can�
��t even avoid you. It’s the ultimate captive audience.”

  Tina lifted the lid of the trolley and peered inside. “This isn’t gin.”

  “Whatever, then!”

  “I’m not sure what it is, but it doesn’t look like something that’s come from a shop.”

  Nerys glared at her and checked more carefully. She had a point, but Nerys was not about to admit that. She lifted a bottle and unscrewed the top. “Smells like alcohol of some sort.”

  Tina unravelled a length of tubing and held it up. “What’s this?”

  “A straw?”

  “So it’s for drinking then?”

  “We’ll never know unless you take a sip.”

  “Take a sip?”

  “Haven’t you got the guts?” Nerys asked.

  “This stuff might rot even my guts.”

  “Coward.”

  Tina threw back her head in laughter and then snapped her face into a vicious scowl. “I challenge you to sip it first.”

  “But I challenged you.”

  “You’re the one slinging accusations around. Maybe you need something to make you more mellow.”

  Nerys sighed. If it was an alcohol-related challenge she was always up for it. She would deal with Tina once they had dealt with this small distraction. She slurped from the end of the tube. A powerful dose of chemical wrongness coursed across her tongue. It was like drinking the smell of a hospital.

  She spat it out in disgust.

  Both of them watched, mesmerised, as the stream of spat alcohol hit the burner under the hotplate and ignited into a subtle blue flame.

  “Wow,” said Tina.

  The flame rapidly spread across the table and caught the end of the tubing.

  “Was there quite a lot of that stuff left in there?” Tina wondered.

  “Move away!” said Nerys.

  They stood back from the table in unison. As one, they dragged the trolley to a safe distance

  “No! Look!” Tina pointed down at the floor. A blue flame raced across the tiles, towards the trolley, along an invisible path of fumes or liquid. They backed off and collided with the owner who was bringing a tray of raw meats and vegetables.

  “Fire!” yelled Nerys. She pushed him to the door, hustling him out onto the pavement and away to one side.

  “What are you—?” he yelled. An explosion ripped through the restaurant with a blinding flash, drowning his protests.

  The window blew out. Something pink and wheeled flew across the street like a rocket. Ben whirled at the sound. The fiery shopping trolley barely missed him, shooting over his head and into the shop sign above. The word Books swung loose on one of its fixings, pivoted and dropped, clonking Ben soundly on the head and knocking him onto his backside.

  Her ears ringing, Nerys sat up and picked pieces of the plate glass window off her dress.

  A tall man came rushing over to assist them. “Everyone okay?”

  Tina blinked at the owner. “I guess you can make that insurance claim now,” she said woozily.

  Across the street, Ben was up on his feet, putting hands to his shattered mask to check for wounds.

  “Face!” the tall man yelled.

  Episode 3 of the Isolation Chronicles can be found here:

  UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B0881ZSTGF

  US: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0881ZSTGF

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