by Rachel Ward
‘Nah, but I reckon she was here that evening. I remember talking to her. I’m gonna find Hermione at break time – see if she’s got anything on the CCTV.’
‘Hermione’ was actually Anna who worked in the office. She looked nothing like Emma Watson with her short, straight blond hair and black-rimmed glasses, but she knew everything about Costsave’s IT systems. Security, stock checking, personnel records, shift allocations – Hermione could skip her way through them with a few clicks of her mouse. As luck would have it, their breaks coincided so Bea took her cup of tea and sat next to her on one of the almost-collapsing sofas where Anna was eating fruit from a plastic pot.
‘Hey H, how’s it going?’
Anna pulled a face. ‘It’s all the drama today. Not the sort of drama I want to be part of though. Emma’s friends with my little sister.’
Bea leaned forward eagerly. ‘Do you know what happened then? Is she okay?’
‘I dunno. They’re being very cagey about releasing details, aren’t they?’
‘Mm. Have you looked at last night’s CCTV?’
‘No, but the police have. I had to find the footage for them. They’re looking right now. I overheard them talking earlier. They think she may have been followed from the store.’
‘Will they take the footage away?’
Anna popped a slice of apple into her mouth.
‘S’all digital. I can just copy them the stuff they need.’
‘So we could have a look together? Lunchtime or after work?’
Anna’s eyebrows disappeared into her short fringe and she tutted. ‘That would be inappropriate, wouldn’t it, Bea? Illegal actually. Only us authorised people can view the tapes.’
‘Oh, come on, H.’
‘Why are you interested anyway?’
‘It’s personal. I know Emma as well, from school, plus I think the toerag followed me too.’
‘Really? God, lucky escape. Look, I’ll try and have a look myself. I can’t promise anything, though. It’s all go today.’
Back on the shop floor, Bea found it hard to settle. She was on autopilot as she scanned the shopping through. Lucky escape, she thought. Why was I lucky and Emma wasn’t? Why should either of us have to put up with this?
Her fear and unease were rapidly turning to anger. She found herself repeatedly trying to scan a reduced price bag of salad without success, turning it round, trying to stretch the plastic wrapping to make the bar code flatter. Her customer, a middle-aged man in a hurry, kept looking at her then checking his watch.
‘Try typing in the number,’ he said testily.
‘Yeah, I know what to do. It should scan, though.’
‘But it’s not, is it? If something doesn’t work, the smart thing isn’t to keep trying the same thing.’
She stopped scanning altogether and stared at him. ‘Thank you for that,’ she said, very loudly and very slowly. ‘I guess I’m just not smart enough.’
Dot glanced over her shoulder and frowned. Bea started feeding in the numbers beneath the barcode. ‘Just trying to help. No offence, love,’ her customer said.
Bea stopped typing for a moment, then after a couple of deep breaths, started again. She told him his total, processed his Bonus Card and bank card and willed him to get out of her sight.
‘Nearly lost it there – that’s not like you. Are you all right?’ Dot said.
Bea was surprised to find she was close to tears. Dot was right. This wasn’t like her. She was tougher than that. She took another deep breath. ‘Yeah. I’m fine.’
She looked along her queue. The next customer was the Julie, the Wedding Ring woman, Dave’s wife. Give me strength, thought Bea. Why couldn’t you use another checkout? Why me?
She had both kids with her again. Mason was helping her put things on the conveyor belt, stretching up on tiptoes and reaching over the edge.
‘That’s a good boy helping your mum,’ said Bea, forcing a smile onto her face. To Julie she said, ‘Do you need any help with packing?’
‘Yes, that would be great,’ she replied. She rummaged around in her bag and brought out a tangle of reusable bags and put them in the packing area, then finished loading her shopping onto the belt. Bea noticed that there was a big plaster on her ring finger.
‘Better safe than sorry, eh?’ she said.
Julie looked confused.
‘Won’t fall off in the freezer again.’
‘Oh, the ring. Yes.’
She didn’t seem to want to talk. Not surprising with a load of shopping to get done and two toddlers in tow. Bea packed her shopping for her and told her the total.
‘Have you got your Bonus Card?’
‘Oh yes.’
Again, the purse was open and there was Dave’s face looking out. Bea tutted to herself, but didn’t say anything more than thanking her for the cash when she handed it over.
‘And there’s your change. Have a nice day.’
And on to the next one, a pensioner with just a sliced loaf, two tins of cat food and a meat pie in her basket.
She fumbled for the money, but didn’t have enough cash. She slid the pie towards Bea. ‘Put that back, then,’ she said. ‘I’ll make do with toast.’
Bea frowned. For a moment she wondered about dipping into her own pocket and paying for the pie. She also considered letting the pie find its way into the woman’s shopping bag unscanned. But it was a slippery slope. A good number of her customers couldn’t afford all their shopping. Happened every day.
‘Okay,’ she said. She had a supply of little cards at her till advertising the local food bank. She slipped one into the woman’s hand, who looked at it and handed it back.
‘No, thanks, pet. I’m fine,’ she said.
Bea watched her walk away. Her steps were slow and uncertain, but her back was poker-rod straight.
As she was watching, she heard the clump of heavy boots in unison. The two police officers were walking along the outside of the checkouts, deep in conversation. Bea felt a pang of disappointment as they passed by without Tom seeming to notice her at all. She started processing the next batch of shopping.
‘Good afternoon. Would you like any help with packing?’
The tannoy spluttered into life. It was a female voice this time: ‘This is a staff announcement. Would Bea Jordan report to the office, please? Bea Jordan to the office.’
Bea leant along the conveyor belt and put her ‘Checkout Closing’ sign out. She finished dealing with the customer she had and then signed out of her till.
‘You’re popular,’ Dot said as Bea left her station.
‘No rest for the wicked. I’ll be back in a minute,’ she said and scuttled across the shop towards the staff door at the back. She passed Ant on her way. He had a trolley full of bread and breakfast bakes.
‘Ooh, restocking,’ Bea said. ‘You’ve gone up in the world.’
Ant scratched his head. ‘It’s not as easy as you’d think,’ he said. ‘You haven’t got a minute, have you?’
‘Nah, I’m off to the office, then I’m back on checkouts. Hasn’t Eileen shown you what to do?’
‘Yeah, but—’
‘Just do that, then. Simples.’ And she was off, through the staff door and up the stairs to what was laughingly referred to as the management suite – two offices off a grey corridor. She knocked on the main office door and went in.
Hermione was sitting at one of the desks. The other was empty. ‘Close the door,’ she said. ‘If anyone asks, I was checking a discrepancy on your time sheet.’
‘Oh, right. There isn’t one, is there?’
‘No, of course not. Look, I can’t actually show you this, but I need to photocopy your time sheet, so . . . ’ Anna walked over to the photocopier by the door, and Bea quickly sat down in Anna’s chair.
She looked at the screen, which was frozen on a grainy black and white image, and pressed ‘play’.
There was an image of a woman entering the shop and picking up a basket. The camera was above her and Bea could c
learly see the furry hood of her parka jacket and her hair drawn back in a tight ponytail. Emma.
The store layout meant that pretty much everyone walked through the fresh fruit and veg area first, unless they veered off left to the cigarette kiosk or determinedly aimed for another specific aisle. Emma wasn’t one of those. She walked at a steady pace to the bananas and picked up a bunch. There were four men in the fruit and veg section. Bea froze the screen and peered closer.
‘There’s Ant,’ said Bea. ‘I know he was there yesterday. Look at him lurking there by the marrows – he couldn’t be more obvious, could he? The other three are customers, I reckon. Who’s she talking to? Can I zoom in?’
‘Control-A it.’
‘Oh,’ said Bea. ‘It’s him.’
‘Who?’
‘He tried to chat me up. He’s married.’
Anna nodded sagely.
‘You don’t seem surprised,’ said Bea.
‘I’m surprised that you are,’ she said. ‘Singles night at Costsave is just the place you’d expect to find married men looking for a bit of extra-curricular you-know-what.’
‘Really?’
‘Oh, bless you. You have much to learn.’
Bea pulled a face. ‘I thought he was quite nice, there was something about him. Felt like a fool when I realised.’
‘You didn’t do anything?’
‘God, no, just chatted.’
‘Well, you’re all right then. No harm done.’
Bea pressed play again. Emma was walking out of shot, so Anna showed Bea how to switch cameras to follow her progress. Bea had always known the cameras were there, of course, but didn’t realise the detail they could pick up. She watched a woman casually put a half-bottle of booze in the inside pocket of her coat, before she went to the checkout with some cans of Coke. She also saw Bob-on-Meat scratching his backside. And she saw Emma, making her way around the store, Dot lingering by the ready meals, and herself talking to Ant and then him dumping his basket and storming out.
She was peering at the screen when she heard Anna say, ‘Uh-oh, incoming.’
There was a shadow the other side of the frosted window in the office door. Bea jumped out of Anna’s chair and Anna started walking back to her desk. As Gavin came in she was saying, ‘So, I think you’d just put the wrong date on your sheet, because if that was the twenty-fourth instead then the shift rota and the time sheets match.’
‘Yes,’ said Bea. ‘That must have been it. Slip of the pen. Thanks for sorting it out, Herm— Anna.’
Gavin gave her a quizzical look, but let her pass him in the doorway without comment.
‘You’re welcome,’ Anna said, smoothly. ‘See you later.’
As Bea went back to the shop floor she could hear raised voices in the bread aisle. She rounded the corner and saw Ant, Eileen and Neville standing by the sliced loaves.
‘I’m disappointed in you, Eileen. You’re meant to be supervising the boy, teaching him the basics. Stock rotation isn’t rocket science. Even Anthony should be able to do it.’
Eileen was gaping at him, trying to get a word in edgeways, her face red and flustered. ‘I did tell him. Look at the date on the label. Near dates to the front, far dates to the back. I told you, didn’t I?’ Now she was looking daggers at Ant, who looked down like he was inspecting the floor, maybe hoping for a hole to open up and swallow him.
‘Yeah,’ he said, ‘you did. It’s not your fault. I’m just . . . I didn’t . . . I dunno.’
Neville stared at him, nostrils flaring.
‘That’s it, is it? “I dunno.” Give me strength. If you don’t understand something, ask.’
Ant dragged his eyes up from the floor and looked from Eileen to Neville and back again.
‘I couldn’t, could I? Eileen was off—’ Eileen’s daggers turned to samurai swords ‘off . . . helping someone else, see?’ He caught sight of Bea. ‘Anyway, I did ask for help. I asked her.’
Three pairs of eyes now fixed themselves on Bea. She held her hands up in surrender.
‘Whoa. Okay. He did ask me but I couldn’t stop there and then, ’cos I’d been called to the office. I would’ve stopped on my way back . . . ’
Neville sighed a long and weary sigh.
‘All right, all right. I’ve had enough. Eileen, can you stay and make sure he finishes the bread properly, please? Anthony, concentrate. And you,’ he looked at Bea as if she was something stuck on the bottom of his shoe, ‘you get back to your checkout. There are customers waiting.’
‘Yes, I’m just going. I didn’t even—’ No point trying to reason with him. Bea marched down the aisle and along to checkout six. Dot looked up as she approached.
‘You in trouble with Gav? Get the ruler out, did he? Six of the best?’
‘No,’ Bea said, settling down and logging on to her screen. ‘Gav’s fine. Just had a little run-in with Neville. He’s being an ar—’ Her first customer was right in front of her, so Bea swallowed the word she’d been about to say and switched on her Costsave smile. ‘Good morning. Do you need any help packing?’
At the end of their shift, Bea and Dot walked to the locker room together. Eileen was already in there, buckling up her coat.
‘Bleurgh, that was a day, wasn’t it?’ Bea said.
‘You’re telling me,’ said Eileen. ‘He’s nice enough, but that boy’s useless. Even when I was standing over him, he couldn’t shelve properly to save his life. Even my Dean can do that. I don’t know what they teach them these days.’ She picked up her handbag and headed for the door. ‘Night, ladies. I’m back on Monday. See you then.’
‘Have a good weekend, Eileen. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,’ Dot called after her. ‘How are you getting home?’ she asked Bea.
‘Walking, like usual. It’s not quite dark yet.’ Bea shivered, and Dot put a hand on her arm.
‘Why don’t you get a taxi? Shall we share one?’
Bea was tempted but part of her resented having to shell out and another part resented being frightened off the streets. ‘Nah, I’ll be okay. We can go to the end of the High Street together, can’t we? Then I won’t walk . . . you know . . . I’ll go the long way round.’
They were on their way down the stairs when they heard a loud noise from the men’s locker room, like a metal door slamming. They both stopped and looked at each other, and then turned to see Ant storming out of the room and bombing down the stairs towards them.
‘Hey, hey, hey!’ Dot shouted before he barged into them.
He shook his head angrily and said, ‘Not now. I’m out of here. I ain’t coming back either.’ He was so clearly in a strop that the two women parted and flattened themselves against opposite walls to let him through.
‘Ant,’ Dot called. ‘Don’t do anything hasty, pet.’
Ant didn’t answer, just flung his hands up as he reached the bottom of the stairs and blasted out of the side exit.
‘That’s that, then, is it?’ Dot said. Bea didn’t know if she was saying to her or to herself.
‘It’s probably nothing,’ she said. ‘He’ll be back. What else is he going to do?’
They started down the stairs again when they heard someone else behind them.
‘’Scuse me, ladies,’ said Hermione. ‘Got a bus to catch.’
They flattened themselves again.
‘See you Monday,’ she called behind her. Then she too was out of the side door and gone.
‘Let’s get out of here before anyone else comes,’ said Dot. ‘It’s like Piccadilly Circus.’
Queenie texted her as she was crossing the car park.
You walking home?
Yeah.
Not the alley. Keep your phone on.
Okay, see you soon. Xxx
When Bea tried the back door, it was locked. Her mum opened it from inside.
‘Come in, love,’ she said. ‘I’ve been waiting for you.’ She locked the door behind her.
‘What’s all this? Fort Knox?’
‘I�
�m keeping it like that till they get him. We should keep it locked anyway, shouldn’t we?’
‘No, I mean, maybe. I don’t know. Let’s get the kettle on, and the oven. I’ve got the fish.’
Friday night – breaded fish and oven chips, and a couple of chocolate bars for pudding. When it was ready, they settled down in front of the TV. They watched the local news, like they did every day. Queenie gave a little squeak as a picture of Costsave came up.
‘It’s you, look!’
Bea flapped her hand at her.
‘Sh, Mum, let’s listen.’
It was a short item about the attack, clearly saying that Emma had been to Costsave that evening and that she may have been followed from there. There was more footage of her walking route home, including the alley, followed by the usual appeal for information. Bea put down her fork and pushed the plate to the far edge of the tray.
‘I don’t think I can eat the rest.’
‘Come on, Bea. You’ve hardly touched your chips.’
‘Nah.’
She took her tray into the kitchen and scraped the remains of the meal into the food waste bin by the sink. She stood for a minute, leaning on the worktop, thinking again about what might have happened. What had actually happened. Bastard, she thought. You’re not going to get away with this.
She went back to the lounge and opened up her laptop.
The CCTV footage that she’d seen hadn’t really shown her much more than she already knew. This is what she did all day; watch people, listen, observe. She had been there. She was a witness.
She started a simple Word file, listing the men she remembered seeing – staff and customers. She set about it systematically, trying to recall the evening as it happened, with her customers in sequence. Once she got started it was almost as if the memories were stored digitally in her head. One customer lead to another, the flow broken by her sighting and pursuit of Dot around the aisles.
It was easy to list the staff members on duty that night. The customers were more difficult. She didn’t know most of the names, but jotted down descriptions.
‘Any gossip? You on Facebook?’
Bea looked up. Queenie wasn’t watching the TV any more. She was watching her.