by Tara Ford
“Of course you can,” said Jenny jubilantly – she’d won the battle and hopefully gained a new customer and acquaintance out of the altercation – whether she liked it or not.
“Bloody miserable little sod he was this morning,” said Dayna, approaching the counter with an envelope. “One of the customers, the man who couldn’t talk properly, gave me this.”
“Who was a miserable sod?” whispered Jenny, taking care not to be overheard by the people walking round the shop. There were some new faces in this morning – people who seemed pleasantly surprised by the shop’s ‘look and feel’ and the range of items on sale. Jenny had a good feeling about today, although the morning had nearly got off to a wrong start.
“Xaylan.” Dayna puffed out her cheeks and let go of a long sigh. “He doesn’t want to do Sundays – only Saturdays.”
“Oh dear, I didn’t think he looked very happy this morning.”
“No, you’d think that I’d chopped up his bloody game console, the way he was acting.”
“Obviously doesn’t like getting up early at the weekends,” said Jenny, opening the envelope in her hand. “I really appreciate what you did though, Day. I was so wrapped up in other things this morning that I didn’t even think about the papers until Xaylan turned up.” Pulling the letter from the envelope, Jenny continued, “Go and make us a cuppa and I’ll tell you all about Dolly’s little explosion this morning.”
Dayna nodded and grinned before strolling away, to the end of the shop.
Having read the letter from Rev. Arthur Brown, who was not the man who Dayna said couldn’t talk properly, Jenny jotted the complicated schedule of works into the increasing newspaper deliveries book.
Rev. Brown was a new customer and he wanted an assortment of papers and magazines delivered to him each day, fortnight or monthly, respectively – and promptly. He had stated in his letter that he would venture down to the shop, during the following week, to pay up front. He had entrusted the letter with his neighbours, assuming that it would get picked up this morning – therefore, he expected a phone call, promptly, to confirm his subscriptions. Huh, Jenny thought, he doesn’t want much.
“Well you can’t knock it, Jen,” said Dayna, looking back through the long-winded letter for a second time. “This is how you’re going to start making the money.”
“Hmm, it’s a lot of faffing about. I’m going to have to get some sort of system in place, just so that we all know what we’re doing with it.”
It was a long day for both Jenny and Dayna. What with Jenny’s 15 hour shift and Dayna’s ten, the girls were both feeling weary by seven o’clock – and they still hadn’t finished. They’d managed to snatch 15 or 20 minute breaks each, here and there, but they were constantly on the go for the rest of the time. Today was very busy in terms of the footfall and Jenny only hoped that the weekend’s explosion of local residents would be reflected in the takings at the end of the day too.
“Another hour and you’re finished, Day,” said Jenny, patting her friend on the shoulder. “A day off tomorrow too.”
“Yeah, I’ll come and do the papers though – Xaylan or no Xaylan.”
“I will make it up to you somehow, Dayna.”
“Yeah, I know you will.” Dayna picked up the counter notepad and flicked through the details. “So that’s five new customers for papers today. Perhaps you should put a sign in the window, for a paperboy or girl, now.”
“I was thinking that too,” said Jenny, rubbing her brow and yawning.
“Bloody hell, how do you do it Jen – you’ve got three hours to go yet. You look tired out already.”
Jenny nodded and smiled weakly, “Yes, worn out – we haven’t even done a whole week yet.”
“Once you’ve built up a good customer base though, you’ll be able to employ someone else, won’t you?”
“Yes, I do hope so. Today’s been a good sign that things will get better, hasn’t it?” said Jenny, hopefully. “We need every day to be like this.”
“Makes the time go really quick, I suppose,” said Dayna, “Right, I’ll go and make a last cup of tea, before I’m finished.”
The evening was a raving success, ‘raving’ being the operative word. Scantily clad groups of women, beer-swilling, big-bellied men and dreamy couples entered the shop for the first time and bought countless bottles of wine, crates of beer, liqueurs and snacks. Almost everyone asked if there was a cash machine and over half of them wanted cash-back with their purchases. Jenny had found herself in the same predicament as the previous evening and only just managed to scrape through to closing time, with barely a single note left in the till.
At around 8.15pm, once Dayna had left, a middle-aged woman entered the shop and went straight to the wine chiller, to peruse the manufacturer’s offers of ‘Buy one, get the second half price’. Jenny had pointed out, just this morning, that those offers were not her own but those of the manufacturers, when Dolly had been going off on one. But now the smart looking woman, wearing a fur-collar, beige coat and brown, knee-length boots, was the one and only person in the shop, showing an interest in the generous offers. She was also the one and only person to share in Jenny’s twice-daily, thumping chorus. As the noises travelled across the ceiling, along their usual path, the woman looked up and appeared to follow the sound with her eyes. Glancing across to Jenny, behind the counter, she frowned.
“Happens all the time,” called Jenny. “You’re the first person to hear it though – maybe you could vouch for me that the noise does exist – just so that my colleagues don’t think I’m going mad.” Jenny laughed off the comment as the woman looked perplexed by her statement.
She grabbed two bottles of Blossom Hill, carried them over to the counter, carefully placed them on the top and took an old, over-filled purse from her expensive looking, brown handbag.
Peering up to the ceiling, the woman spoke softly and quietly, “Sounds like he’s jumping about up there.”
“He? Do you know him then?” Cringing at the thought of possibly having offended the woman or indeed the man upstairs, Jenny feigned a smile.
“Not really. I know he lives there though,” she said, pointing above her head with a shaky finger. Her eyes narrowed, in what Jenny thought, was a look of antipathy.
“Oh, right… well, that’ll be £12.00 please.” The obvious animosity was unnerving and Jenny wished that she hadn’t said anything.
“He’s probably dragging around a dead body up there,” said the woman, looking up, once again. “You want to stay well away from him.” She brushed a straightened, blonde tress of hair, away from her face and avoided eye contact as she fumbled through her purse and produced the exact amount.
Before Jenny had a chance to ask the woman why she should stay away from him, a group of young women came in, giggling amongst themselves and preening their own hair, or someone else’s in the reflections of their mobile phones. Jenny looked over and gave the usual courteous, welcome grin, before turning back to the woman and taking her money. As Jenny began to open her mouth, in response to the woman’s last words, she suddenly left with her bottles of wine. Watching her walk across the road and into a house, further down, Jenny cursed. She had to find out what the woman had meant by her last comment. What did she know? Why would she think that he was dragging a dead body around the flat upstairs? A dead body would make a dragging sound, surely? Or was she joking?
It didn’t sound like she was joking...
That’s more like it, thought Jenny. She had counted the takings twice, just to make sure. The extra £540 did indeed reflect the amount of custom today. Locking the shop’s front door, she peered up to the flat above. There were no lights on in the two front windows and Jenny wondered whether they were bedrooms or a lounge and kitchen at the front. She had no idea of the layout of the flats above. Momentarily, she wished she could be a House Martin – maybe from their position she would be able to see exactly what was going on in the flat above. She hadn’t been able to get the woman’s
comments out of her head and a burning desire to investigate the strange noises was growing dangerously. But not at twenty past ten at night, it would have to wait. It would be too scary and probably, highly inappropriate to go knocking on someone’s door so late in the evening, especially to ask if there was a dead person being dragged around the flat. Or worse still, being bounced around the flat.
Jenny shuddered, jumped into her car and headed home. She hoped that she may bump into Aaron again, when she went to bed – purely to share another ciabatta and another slice of cheesecake with him. In her dreams.
Chapter 16
Thump, thump, thump… thump… thump, thump… the noise sounded different this morning. Jenny was sure that she could hear a shuffling noise too – or was it just her imagination?
Arriving at the same time, Dayna and Tasha walked in and parted with a giggle. “Paper’s ready?” asked Dayna, moving around the daily clique of retired, sociably-inspired, ladies and gents.
“Believe it or not… yes, they are. No Xaylan today then?”
“Don’t even go there, Jen. In fact, let’s forget that I ever suggested him.”
“Oh dear, that doesn’t sound good.”
“No, it’s not good – the little bugger stayed out past eight o’clock last night. Poor Mum had been pulling her hair out, phoning round everyone she could think of. It turns out that he was in next door’s shed with his mate, Tristan – smoking a bloody cigarette that they stole from Tristan’s dad.”
“Oh no,” said Jenny, feigning surprise. “Guess he’s in a lot of trouble then.”
“Yep – grounded – for a month.” Dayna took the pile of papers from the end of the counter. “Told him that he’s not doing this job either, he can’t be trusted.”
Jenny tutted, “Well maybe he’ll learn his lesson now.”
“Doubt it,” replied Dayna. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Hope your day goes nice and quick – early finish for you today - woohoo.”
“Ooh yes – I’d forgotten about that. Yippee – six o’clock finish. That means that I can go home and have a bath,” Jenny whispered, not wishing to share that information with the gathered group in front of her.
Dayna winked and left.
“Good morning,” said Tasha, arriving behind the counter with two steaming mugs of tea in hands.
“Hi, did you have a nice day off yesterday?”
“Oh yes thank you. I went shopping with my mum. We bought a pole.” Tasha smiled sweetly.
“A pole?” quizzed Jenny, “What sort of a pole? Don’t tell me… for pole dancing.” Jenny said in jest.
“Yes… our last one broke,” replied Tasha, nonchalantly. “We’ve got a stronger one – mind you it was a lot more expensive.”
For a moment, Jenny stared at Tasha, speechless. “Err… right, ok,” she managed to say before she began flapping around like a caged bird, unable to think of anything else to say. Tasha’s cool composure and innocent gaze made Jenny feel even more embarrassed. It wasn’t the fact that Tasha and her mum did pole dancing, and Jenny had no doubt that it was done in the confines of their home (she hoped), and probably as a means of exercise (she prayed), but it was just the way that Tasha seemed to come out with these things, as if they were standard, everyday practice. After all, who doesn’t have a wardrobe full of unusual costumes and uniforms and perform pole dancing with their mother?
The phone rang, giving Jenny the excuse she needed to leave. Snatching up the phone from under the counter, she walked off down to the end of the aisle. “Good morning, J’s Convenience Store.”
“Hello Jen, love.”
“Oh, hi Dad – how are you doing?”
“I had a confirmation email yesterday. The awning will be delivered next Saturday, between twelve and six o’clock – will that be ok?”
“Err, yes Dad, that’ll be fine. Thanks.”
“Have you got somewhere that you could put it? It’s going to be quite big, I would imagine. We can’t get over to fit it until Sunday.”
“Oh crumbs – I forgot about that.” Jenny tutted, “I’ll have to put it in the stock room… and hope it doesn’t get in the way. That man, Aaron, is coming to fit the new EPOS system next Saturday, too.”
“Ah, yes… I suppose he’s putting wiring in, is he?”
“I think so. Well… yes he will be won’t he?” Jenny tutted again. “He’ll be here all weekend, he said. Well, I’ll just have to manage somehow, won’t I?”
“Jen, if I had somewhere to put it, I’d hold on to it until Sunday but I’m full up with kitchen equipment.”
“Yes I know. Sorry, it’s just me panicking – everything’s happening all at once.”
“Don’t panic, Jen, I’m sure it will be fine.”
“Thanks Dad – I’m sure it will be fine too. I’ll speak to you later – love you.”
“Love you too, bye sweet.”
Jenny took the phone back to the counter and placed it back on its base. “Huh, we’ve got all sorts going on here next weekend,” she said.
Tasha turned to Jenny and grinned, “You look stressed, Jenny.”
“I am.” Jenny pulled an anguished face and grabbed bunches of her hair, pretending to pull them out. “I don’t know why I feel stressed-out – must be in need of a good night’s sleep again.”
“You should try some pole-dancing,” Tasha giggled, “it would chill you out. Good exercise too.”
Instantly, Jenny’s stress evaporated as a bewildered stare smothered her face. “I’ll leave that to you Tasha – thanks all the same.”
“We could start up pole-dancing lessons for the old folk around here… that would be funny.”
“Err… no it would not.”
“Oh, ok – I was only trying to make you laugh.” Tasha frowned and lowered her long-lashed eyelids.
“You do make me laugh. I’m just not in the mood at the moment… not for pole-dancing… or anything else for that matter.”
“Ok… no pole-dancing. Maybe later then?” Tasha grinned again.
“No – not later either.” Forcing a smile, Jenny picked up her cooling mug of tea. “I’ll be in the office if anyone needs me. I’ve got so much paperwork to catch up on.”
The pile of papers in the office remained untouched after an hour. And then two hours. Surely it was all Aaron’s fault that Jenny had been daydreaming and not done a single thing while lounging around in her office… well, in a strange sort of way it was. She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him. Glancing at the clock on the wall she noted that Tasha had been serving on the till, constantly, for several hours. Dragging herself up from her comfy chair, she opened the door and walked quickly up the aisle to the counter. "So sorry, Tasha. Please, go and get yourself a nice, long break,” she said, just before another customer approached the till.
“Is it that time all ready?” Tasha sounded genuinely surprised.
“It’s passed that time, I got so carried away with the paperwork. Go and get some time-out and bring some tea up when you’re done.”
Tasha nodded her pretty, young head and left the counter with her cold, untouched mug of tea, from earlier in the morning.
By late afternoon, Jenny had finally got her act together and was looking forward to an early finish. After two late nights, she was more than ready to get away early, go home, have a long soak in a hot bath and relax for the evening with a good book. Just as she picked up the final invoice to deal with, the counter’s buzzer sounded and made her jump.
Several people milled around the aisle as Jenny walked hurriedly, up to the counter. “What’s up?” she asked, puzzled to see that there was no one waiting to talk to her at the counter.
“I thought you’d want to know when Marj was in,” whispered Tasha. “She’s just gone down the other aisle. Have you spoken to her yet about the toilet rolls?”
“Ah, no I haven’t and yes, I do want to speak to her. She hasn’t been in much though… well, not that I’ve been aware of, anyway.”
“
Hope she remembers about the toilet rolls she’s taken.”
“Oh yes – now that’s a point. If she doesn’t remember anything, I can hardly accuse her of taking them.”
“That’s why I called you. You could maybe catch her in the act today.”
“Good thinking Tasha – well done you.”
Three people approached the counter, all at the same time. Two were laden with goods and another peered across the counter at the cigarette price list displayed on the gantry doors. Jenny wondered for a moment, whether the sudden surge of people coming into the shop was a deliberate act because they’d seen that J’s Convenience Store was closing earlier on Sundays or whether the abundant footfall was a glimpse of good things to come. Jenny had no choice but to help Tasha with the forming queue, keeping an eye open for Marj, as she did.
The queue disappeared and Jenny realised that a great deal of diplomacy would be needed to confront Marj – the potential escapee with a turquoise bog-roll securely tucked under her arm. She did not want to cause a scene, should she have to accost Marj at the door, so she decided to go down the far aisle, meet up with her and politely aid her with her shopping. Leaving Tasha to do what she did best (assuming this was her best, as Jenny hadn’t seen her pole-dance yet), Jenny casually walked over to the far aisle and glanced down it. No Marj. Hurrying down the end of the aisle, in pursuit, Jenny turned the corner. No Marj. Moving around two women at the end of the shop, Jenny slowed her pace, so as to appear as normal as possible as she got to the end of the other aisle. A cursory glance along the length of the aisle, while pretending to straighten items in the end freezer resulted in –no Marj. Jenny peered over her shoulder at the two women chatting by the bread shelf and then shot another glance up the aisle, in front. No Marj.
Catching Tasha’s attention, between her serving the customers, Jenny shrugged her shoulders and held her hands out, whilst mouthing, ‘Where is she?’