Stepping
down from the raised dais of the cash desk she smoothed the skirt of her
uniform, feeing a warm surge of pride. She stood a little taller, striking a
pose of puff-chested responsibility. Only sixteen and promoted to supervisor
for her Saturday job in Woolworths. It was a pity that the uniform upgrade was
so unglamorous. She looked down at the Crimplene two-piece ensemble. It was
hardly exquisite, and combined with American
tan tights and sensible shoes it was positively frumpy. Still, it was worth it
to earn her pocket money and tonight the small brown pay envelope would be
thicker. Tonight the Christmas bonus would be there, plumping up the banknotes
and coins like weights on the scale dragging her waistcoat pocket down as she
signed for her money.
She
took her pride for a walk around the shop floor,
smiling generously at the girls on the make-up counter, their pancaked faces
cracking in response. Over to the sweets next, you had to keep a close eye on
those girls, and that’s where she saw him. Her heart sank as she sighed his
name, “Grandad”. He had promised never to come here. Never to bring his
uncontrollable urge to her place of work. He had sworn he would not. She could
see that a certain look of excited pleasure was already suffusing his features,
filling him with an exhilarating satisfaction triggered by the thrill of
temptation. She was a supervisor. It was her
duty to report shoplifting and failure to do so could lose her this job, but
rigor mortis had hold of her, painfully locking her knees as she remembered
that his name for this counter was Pick and Nix. She turned, and walked away.
Stationery was bound to need a tidy.
