Lockdown With The Sisters Enderby

Sharlene, the Aussie barmaid, had just completed the 'first pour' of Oscar's Guinness, and both she and Oscar were waiting for the 'surge' to subside, when she blurted out that the pub may have to close.

'Close? Why? Good pub, this,' Oscar said. 'Bit quite tonight. But it'll be roaring again tomorrow. Every pub has a quiet night now and then.'

'No. It's the virus thing. Bats or whatever.'

'Oh. They're back on the old lockdown thing, are they? They were threatening that when we had bird flu. Don't suppose you were here then. And swine flu, of course. And then again with SARS. They didn't do it though,' Oscar said. 'Not with any of them.'

'They're saying that millions will die.'

'Millions! What? Here in London? Surely not.'

'Could be some. But everywhere really. They said -- on the radio -- that it's because we're flying everywhere. They said that we're spreading it.'

'Well, I haven't flown anywhere for a couple of years,' Oscar said. 'No. Even longer than that. My nephew dragged me along to see Arsenal playing away in Barcelona. But not since then.'

Sharlene nodded. 'Yeah, but other people fly. My neighbour practically owns shares in easyJet.'

Oscar smiled. 'Ibiza?'

'Well ... there. But other places too,' Sharlene said.

Sharlene finished pouring Oscar's Guinness, and he took it, along with a bag of Smith's salt and vinegar-flavoured crisps, to his favourite seat. Yes, Oscar had lived through a few of these global panics. Flus of one kind or another. AIDS. Mad cow disease. According to the mainstream media, each one had threatened to wipe out the human race. But, so far at least, not one of them had. There had even been a rumour that Ebola had escaped from Portan Down. That said -- or at least thought -- the 'Mow was uncharacteristically quiet. And then one of Oscar's neighbours came in.

Dolly Enderby's apartment was on the level below Oscar's. Oscar didn't really know her that well. Not really. But he half wished that he did. She was very attractive for a woman of ... what ... sixty? And her sister -- probably her younger sister -- she was pretty tidy too. They both had a twinkle in their eye.

Dolly walked straight up to the bar and ordered a glass of white wine. And then she turned around and scanned the room. Oscar caught her eye and pointed to the empty chair opposite his. Dolly smiled and walked over to join him.

'How are you, Dolly?' Oscar enquired.

'You tell me, Oscar. This bat flu thing. It's a bit worrying, isn't it?' she said.

'Oh ... every few years ...,' Oscar said. 'I think they just like to keep us on our toes.'

Dolly nodded. 'But at our age,' she said. 'We're not twenty anymore. Sal and I were planning to go to Spain. But they're saying that the virus is already out there.'

'Spain? Yes. I heard. I wonder why,' Oscar said.

'Italy too,' Dolly said.

And then Charlene came over to them. 'I just had a call from the boss,' she said. 'We have to close tonight.'

'Tonight?'

'That's what he said.'

'How long for?' Oscar asked.

'Don't know. They're saying that we all have to stay in our bubbles.'

'Bubble? What if we don't have a bubble?' Oscar said.

Charlene laughed. 'It's just an expression. You have to stay with your family. Just the people you live with,' she said.

'Oh.' Oscar nodded. 'OK. Well, you and I should be OK,' he said to Dolly.

'Oh? Do we count as family?'

'Close enough. You're just downstairs. I'm just upstairs. If I already have it, then you've probably got it. And vice versa.'

'I suppose so,' Dolly said.

'And your sister.'

'Well ... yes. If I've got it, she almost certainly has. And if neither of us has .... Just as well we had a wine delivery today.'

'Oh, that's a thought,' Oscar said. He looked at his watch. 'What time does Oddbins close?'

'Not sure,' Dolly said. 'Eight? Nine? Something like that.'

Oscar nodded and took another long sip of his Guinness. 'I wonder if I can get Henry to make a delivery. What do you and Sally like to drink?'

'What?'

'Well, if we're going to be sharing a bubble, I'd better make sure that we've got the necessaries.'

Dolly laughed. 'I'm afraid we drink most things,' she said. 'And probably too much of most things. Although Sal is a bit partial to a vodka and tonic. I'm more of a white wine drinker.'

'OK. I'll get Henry to chuck in a couple of bottles of the old Kremlin firewater then.'

Oscar and Dolly chatted on for a while, and then Oscar announced that he had better get around to Oddbins before Henry 'raised the drawbridge'.

'I'll come with you,' Dolly said.

'We're off,' Oscar called out to Charlene. 'We'll see you ... well ... when next we see you, I suppose. I'm sure that this will be all over in a week or so. At least I hope it will be. Don't want it messing with the cricket, eh. I think our boys are in with a real chance this year.'

Oscar and Dolly made it to Oddbins before Henry 'raised the drawbridge'. 'Don't suppose you could make a delivery,' Oscar said when he had assembled a couple of mixed cases, two six packs of Guinness, and couple of bottles of vodka.

Henry half smiled. 'OK. Since it's you, Mr B. I'll be around in about three-quarters of an hour.'

'Good man,' Oscar said, and he tucked a fiver into Henry's shirt pocket. 'Buy yourself a glass of Crème de Menthe. Help ward off the evil lurgy.'

When Oscar and Dolly arrived back at their apartment building, someone had already set up a hand-sanitiser station in the foyer. 'Oh well ... I suppose we should do our bit,' Oscar said. 'And then, since I dragged you away before either of us had a chance for the other half, you'd better come upstairs and have a glass at mine. Bring Sally. We may as well start our bubble as we mean to carry on.'

Dolly smiled. 'Thank you. We'll bring a snack,' she said.

Oscar dropped Dolly off at the fourth floor and then waited for the lift to start up again and take him to the fifth. This virus thing was all a bit of a worry. But at least Rosa, his cleaning lady, had been that day. He and the ladies downstairs would be starting their bubble in a neat and tidy environment. And, anyway, it should all be over before Rosa's next visit.

Oscar's new bubble-mates arrived about twenty minutes later. And, true to Dolly's word, they didn't arrive empty handed. 'Sal made a quiche earlier,' Dolly said. 'And I've knocked up a bit of a rocket salad to go with it. Nothing fancy. Just rocket and tomato and a bit of Parmesan.'

'Sounds pretty fancy to me,' Oscar said. And then the downstairs doorbell went. It was Henry. 'Come on up,' Oscar said.

'Well, that should keep us going for a couple of days,' Oscar said when Henry had deposited Oscar's earlier purchases. 'Now ... what should we drink with the quiche? A glass of white perhaps?'

The quiche and salad was very good. And the company, the Sisters Enderby, was excellent. Why hadn't Oscar got to know them better earlier?

'How long have you been on your own then?' Sally asked as the first bottle of New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc was coming to an end.

'Umm ... it's coming up five years now since Margie died.'

'And you've never thought of ...?'

Oscar laughed. 'Who'd have an old bugger like me, eh?'

'You're not that old,' Sally said.

'Seventy in a couple of years' time. No, less than that now. Yeah. How about that? Three score years and ten. Well and truly out of my warranty.'

'Well, I'm sixty,' Sally said. 'And Doll's sixty-two.'

Dolly nodded. But not unhappily.

'And you two?' Oscar asked. Well, it seemed only fair. Sally had asked him.

'I think we're happy with the way things are,' Sally said. And Dolly nodded again. And this time she smiled.

By the time that Oscar's neighbours (and new bubble partners) headed back downstairs, the virus that was about to wipe out 'life as we know it' did not seem to be the first thing on any of their minds.

When Oscar woke up the next morning, his head was slightly fuzzy. He probably should not have had that shot of vodka with lime cordial and ice -- not after contributing to the demolition of two bottles of sauvignon blanc and supping a pint of Guinness. He turned on the radio. No, it had not been a dream. London was in lockdown -- whatever that meant. The corner shop (to which Oscar would normally have walked to purchase his morning copy of The Torygraph) was closed. The dry cleaners (where they were in the middle of tidying up Oscar's favourite sportscoat) was closed. And the Barley Mow was closed. Not that the 'Mow would normally open until eleven anyway, but still ....

Oscar made himself a mug of tea and turned on the TV. The pictures looked as if they had been taken from some old sci-fi movie. Where was everyone? The cops were out. Along with a couple of 'official-looking' cars. But that was about it.

Oscar took his tea out onto the balcony. Yep, The Square was also deserted. And then a solitary cab appeared from the vicinity of Paddington Station, scuttled around the far side of The Square, and disappeared in the direction of Marble Arch. It was all very eerie. Although Oscar had to acknowledge that it was also rather peaceful.

Oscar finished his tea and then went back inside and took a long, leisurely shower. He had not long emerged from the shower when someone knocked on his door. Oscar frowned. No one knocked on his door. They pressed the bell. Downstairs. But, no, it had definitely been a knock on the door.

Oscar opened the door. It was Dolly.

'Good morning, fellow bubblee.'

'Bubbly? Oh. No. Yes. Bubb

lee

. Yes. I see what you mean,' Oscar said. 'He -- or she -- who is bubbled. Yes. Come in.'

'It's a bit weird, isn't it?' Dolly said. 'Out there.'

'Very,' Oscar said.

Dolly nodded. 'Look, I won't stay. It's just that Sal bought some oysters yesterday. We love fresh oysters -- natives preferably -- and the season is coming to an end. I just wanted to check that you liked them before we put then on tonight's menu.'

'Oh. Umm ... yes. Oysters. Yes. Although I haven't had any for ages. But ... yes.'

'Good,' Dolly said. 'I have a feeling that it's going to be a slow day, so shall we bring everything forward a little? Say cocktails at five?'

'Umm ... yes,' Oscar said. 'Yes, that makes sense. What can I bring?'

'Just yourself. And an appetite. And a thirst, of course.' And Dolly laughed.

'I'll bring a bottle of wine,' Oscar said. 'Oysters? Let me see ... Chablis perhaps?'

Dolly smiled and nodded approvingly.

Sally had been right about it being a slow day. Oscar had reached an age where many of his days were not especially frantic. But the lack of traffic, and the knowledge that people all over London had retreated into their 'bubbles', somehow made the day even slower. Oscar made another mug of tea and, in the absence of his usual morning Torygraph, he took the previous day's paper from the recycling pile and read the bits he usually didn't bother with. Unfortunately, all it did was remind him of why he didn't read those bits in the first place.

For lunch (Oscar didn't normally bother with breakfast), Oscar made a sandwich with slices of reheated sausage and some sort of foreign chutney that a woman at Tesco had persuaded him to buy. It was ... well ... it was OK. Not great. But it was OK.

And then Oscar turned on BBC News at One. Apparently, many Londoners were staying at home in their bubbles. And those who were not staying in their bubbles were having to explain why not to roving masked members of the Met. Meanwhile, in Italy, half of the population had died and the other half was about to die. And it was a similar situation in Spain. 'They're certainly going to a lot of trouble to try to scare us this time,' Oscar muttered to no one in particular.

Oscar didn't wait for the Weather Forecast. He wouldn't be going out, so the question of whether he should take a coat or an umbrella -- or even a sun hat -- didn't really arise. Instead, he put a bottle of Chablis in the fridge to chill and then went and lay on his bed.

When Oscar awoke for the second time that day, it was almost three-thirty. He made himself a mug of tea, and then, because he still had plenty of time, he took another shower. He didn't need another shower, but it was something to do. Then, wrapped in a bath towel, he contemplated what he should wear to supper with his new bubble-mates. Dress up? Dress down? Dress to impress? Dress to blend in? In the end, he chose a pair of khaki chinos and a mid-blue checked shirt. He also wore his dark blue Timberland slip-ons. The shoes had some sort of hi-tech innersoles that made them very comfortable, and, at Oscar's age, such things were becoming important.

It was still only about five to five, but Oscar couldn't see the point in being 'fashionably late'. He grabbed the wine from the fridge and headed downstairs. Dolly greeted him with a hug and a kiss. Sally followed suit.

'Isn't it strange out there today?' Sally said. 'I keep thinking that I may have suddenly gone a bit deaf, a bit Mutt and Jeff. It's so quiet.'

'It is,' Oscar said. 'I could actually hear the birds this afternoon.'

Dolly smiled and nodded. 'I don't envy anyone who gets sick,' she said. 'But not having all the traffic is really rather nice.' And she nodded again. 'Now, Oscar, Sal and I think that we should officially launch our little bubble with the aid of some even smaller bubbles: a glass or two of The Widow's humble yet oh-so-delicious yellow label. OK?'

'The Widow? Excellent,' Oscar said. 'Yes ... excellent.'

And it was. And, once again, Oscar pinched himself. Yes, the virus thing was a bit scary, especially for a chap of his vintage. And, yes, he was only too aware that, in an economic sense, the cure looked as though it might turn out to be even worse than the disease. But if he were going to have to spend a week or so 'locked down' with the charming Enderby sisters ... well ... he could think of worse ways to pass a few evenings. 'Cheers,' he said, as Dolly handed him an elegant glass of Veuve Clicquot with 'beaded bubbles winking at the brim'.

'Cheers,' the sisters echoed.

Thinking about it later, Oscar wondered if the sisters had chosen to start the party with champagne for its 'French courage' properties. The alcohol content of champagne is roughly equivalent to that of still white wine, but the bubbles help the alcohol to be absorbed in a matter of minutes. Well, that was what Oscar had read somewhere. And, yes, the sisters did slip from first gear to third gear rather quickly. By the time that Sally produced the oysters -- and asked Oscar to uncork the Chablis -- the conversation had turned quite spicy.

'Umm ... perhaps we should draw the drapes,' Dolly said. 'Just in case we forget. Later. You know.' And she laughed.

'Keep the heat in?' Oscar said.

Dolly frowned. And then she smiled. 'Yes. I suppose so. Keep the heat in. I hadn't thought of it like that. Yes. I'm not sure how much the people on the other side of the square can see, but, well, yes, let's keep the heat in. Let's keep it between ourselves, shall we?' And she laughed again.

It had been a while since Oscar had enjoyed an oyster. 'Mmm ... very nice,' he said.

'Magic, I'd say,' Dolly said. 'My former husband used to say that oysters were wasted on women. But, I don't know ... Sal and I think they do a marvellous job in encouraging the little man in the boat, don't we, Sal?'

'I'm sure they do,' Sally said. 'Probably not to the same extent that they ... umm ....' And she smiled and nodded in the direction of Oscar's crotch. 'But, yes, every little bit helps, eh, Oscar?'

The little man in the boat? Was Dolly saying what Oscar thought she was saying?

'Not that your little man needs much encouragement,' Dolly said. 'You should see it, Oscar. Well, you will see it. A bit of a tickle, a bit of a lick, and it's like Sal has grown her very own cock.'

'Well ... perhaps a small one,' Sally said.

'Mind you, I think it might take more that one oyster,' Dolly said. 'Come on. Tuck in. We have a couple of dozen here.'

They did have two dozen -- when they started. But then, after a suitable interlude, there were two dozen no longer. And the Chablis had also been a good choice. Oscar could feel himself 'lifting off'.

'All right there, Oscar?' Dolly asked.

'Umm ... yes. Very all right,' Oscar said. 'I think this bubble, our bubble, may be just about perfect.'

Dolly nodded. 'Not bad, is it? I'm not sure that there will be oysters tomorrow, unfortunately, but ... well ... let's make the most of these, shall we?'

Sally rearranged the remaining occupied shells on the platter. 'One more each, and then I think it's knickers off,' she said.

Perhaps Oscar had consumed a little generously of the Chablis, but he could have sworn that Sally had said: One more each and then knickers off.

'Are they working?' Sally asked.

'Umm ... well ... at my age, things don't always ... umm ....'

'No. That's OK,' Sally said. 'We can help. Can't we, Doll?'

'We can indeed,' Dolly said. 'Why don't we go through?'

Oscar followed the sisters through to their equivalent of his bedroom. Except the bed itself was enormous. And then it all clicked. Dolly and Sally. 'I think we're happy with the way things are,' Sally had said. Or had it been Dolly? And they did seem to have a rather intimate knowledge of their respective 'little men in the boats'. Yes. It was all starting to make sense.

And the knickers did come off. Discreetly. The sisters were still wearing their 'cocktail' dresses but, underneath, Oscar now knew that they were

sans culottes

. For some reason, Oscar found the thought rather arousing. Or was that the oysters beginning to do their thing? Oscar definitely felt that he could discern the beginnings of a slight twitch.

A long, long time ago, Oscar had been lying in bed with a woman who he was eventually going to marry -- albeit only for a brief time -- when there had been a tap on his bedroom window. 'Are you awake?' Oscar had recognised the voice as that of an old girlfriend. Oscar had got out of bed and gone to the window. 'Oh, you are awake,' the old girlfriend had said. 'Are you going to let me in?' And Oscar had gone to the French doors and let her in.

'I'm, umm, I actually with Kaye,' Oscar explained.

'Oh. OK,' the old girlfriend, Marion, had said. And she had headed for the bedroom. (It had been Marion who had introduced Oscar to Kaye.)

'Hi,' Kaye had said.

Marion had laughed. 'Hi. I hope I didn't interrupt you mid fuck or anything.'

Kaye had shaken her head. And Marion had started to undress.

'You'd better go in the middle,' Marion had told Oscar.

Oscar had laughed and hesitated. But then he had settled himself between the two naked women.

'I was just going by and I was feeling horny,' Marion had said. 'Are you going to fuck me?'

'I don't know. Am I?' Oscar had asked.

'Yeah, go on,' Kaye had said. 'You may as well. I've never watched anyone fucking before.'

And that had been Oscar's sole experience of a threesome. Although it hadn't really been a threesome. Oscar and Marion had fucked while Kaye had watched. Oscar couldn't even remember if Kaye had masturbated while she had watched. And now here he was with Dolly and Sally. And he wasn't at all sure what to do next.

'Nice shoes,' Dolly said.

Oscar nodded. 'They're very comfortable.'

'But they are going to have to come off.'

'Oh?'

'It'll make it easier to get your trousers off,' Dolly said.

Oscar nodded and flicked his shoes off.

As it happened, Oscar had no need to worry about what to do next. Dolly had appointed herself officer-in-charge. She helped Oscar out of his trousers and then she helped Sally to remove her dress. Underneath her dress, Sally was wearing one of those suspender belts that is part suspender belt and part light girdle. White. With pale pink flowers. Very sexy, Oscar thought. Especially on a woman of a certain age. Very sexy indeed. Oscar also thought that it was very sexy when the sisters kissed -- not as sisters, but as ... well ... lovers. And not -- if Oscar was any judge of such things -- for the first time.