Lockdown Blues: A Jack Hansard Story

Lockdown Blues

Especially one who wants to kill you because they didn't read the label on the magic aphrodisiac you sold them and thus completely missed the fact that it was intended for geese and, as regrettably discovered after glugging the potion right in front of my table, had the unfortunate side effect of causing the user to grow feathers in an inconveniently intimate area and begin honking uncontrollably while screaming, 'Hansard you HONK!–ing bastard! I'll kill you HONK! you piece of HONK! HONK!'

That kind of things makes a man glad to be alive.

But it was a long time since Ang and I had last encountered any fun of that sort. The new Lockdown landscape was a barren one. There were no shady customers to serve, no devious Black Market schemes to run – every bugger was indoors. Keeping ourselves locked up in the car was a none-starter. We started to live on a perpetual walk through the streets instead. Whenever we were caught out, we were: 'Just on our way to shops, actually!' or 'Just enjoying our one daily exercise, in fact!'

The closing of the public toilets, however, was a real blow to us both. There's nothing quite like queueing outside a supermarket for two hours to make one really appreciate the need for public conveniences.

During Week Three, we spent one very blissful night in a hotel that was opened up for homeless people. Turns out that travelling with a sort-of-looks-like-a-child-if-you-really-squint coblyn-in-disguise is a great way of being fast-tracked towards the comfiest beds. And a shower. And hot food. And the lack of Ang's smell. And mine, come to that. I should have found a way to bottle the feeling – I'd give it a trendy modern name like, 'Bottled Bliss: the Self-Care Edition' and sell it slyly from the sidelines of a posh farmers' market.

Ever since, I've been working hard on our next commercial venture. A true merchant of enterprise doesn't let a lack of customers bother him! He finds new ones! He discovers their most pressing needs and finds a way to fulfil them!

Ang watched me rearrange the goods one final time. They had to look perfect.

'This ain't you,' she said, shifting uncomfortably. 'Where's the magic in this ysbwriel?'

'In this what?'

'This rubbish.'

'Oh.' I shook my head. 'Ang. Haven't you learned anything yet? Where does real magic live?'

She glared suspiciously. 'Live? It dun't live anywhere!'

'You're wrong.' I tapped the side of my head. 'It lives in people's heads.'

Her eyes narrowed. 'Oh. That kind o' magic. Thought you was on about the real stuff. Spells and hexes and that.'

'The beauty of the human mind, Ang, is that you don't necessarily need a spell to bewitch someone. Now, are you ready for this?'

'Do I have to, gwas?'

'Equal partnership, remember?'

She slipped out of the boot, grumbling under her breath. Today she was wearing – instead of her usual grubby waistcoat and trousers – a dress. It was a flowery pink spring dress, perfect for the season, but with long arms to cover Ang's bony parchment skin. It was probably meant for a four year old, but swamped Ang's wizened coblyn frame.

'And the hat,' I said.

She glowered and snatched it from my hands. It was the widest brimmed sunhat I could find from the local charity shop. She rammed it on her head.

It sort of covered her pointy ears, and if she looked down you might be forgiven for thinking there was a little girl under there somewhere.

'Stop laughin',' she hissed.