It Was Always You

by Barnes, Miranda

  ‘All the same, business is business. A shop that’s not making money is no good to anyone, is it?’

  ‘It’s good for the village,’ Anna said doggedly. ‘People would miss it.’

  ‘Well, let them pay for it.’

  ‘It’s not exactly losing money, is it?’

  ‘Some weeks it is.’

  ‘Once or twice maybe. But we do quite well usually.’

  She could see he wasn’t listening. His mind was made up. Or Mrs. Wilson’s was.

  ‘I’d like to try a few different things,’ she said desperately. ‘See if that helps.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Well...’ Here it was. Not exactly a great opportunity, but an opportunity nevertheless. ‘Fresh bread would do well. We could pick it up first thing in the morning from the bakery at...’

  ‘We wouldn’t sell enough. And it wouldn’t keep. The sliced bread is what people want. It keeps better.’

  ‘I thought we could offer a dry cleaning pick-up service for people who can’t get into town themselves.’

  ‘No money in that.’

  Anna swallowed hard and kept going. ‘Newspapers, I thought. And magazines. Maybe even a post office...’

  ‘At my time of life, Anna?’ Mr. Wilson chuckled. ‘Mrs. Wilson thinks I work too hard as it is! No. What I want now is the easy life.’

  ‘Little things, then,’ Anna persisted. ‘Things we don’t do now.’

  He looked at her.

  ‘More fresh food, for example. Some people in the village don’t have cars and can’t manage the bus ride into town, not frequently, but they still like fresh food. Or they would if they could get it. All we have, really, is tinned and frozen food. I’m sure we could do something about that.’

  She’d lost him. She could see that. His mind was on other things. He wasn’t interested. She wanted to get hold of him and shake him. He was hopeless. No wonder the shop wasn’t up to much.

  ‘It’s no good, Anna. It isn’t, is it?’ He smiled and waited, waited perhaps for her to agree.

  She stared stonily at him.

  ‘I know how hard you’ve worked, Anna. I do know that. And I appreciate your honesty and reliability. Right from the start I’ve been able to trust you, and that counts for a lot these days. Everything, really.’

  He meant it. She could see that. He was a kindly man, and he was being honest with her. Her steely resolve weakened.

  ‘But it’s no good,’ he continued. ‘The shop’s not paying its way. Mrs. Wilson does the books, as you know, and she’s said for a long time that the shop’s not worth it.’

  Mrs. Wilson! Anna thought bitterly.

  ‘So what are you saying, Mr. Wilson?’

  ‘We’re going to have to close. At the end of the month. I’m sorry, Anna. But you’ll find something else, something a lot better to do, I shouldn’t wonder. A young woman like you? There’s many an employer would give an arm and a leg for someone like you.’

  He meandered on about how he would give her a wonderful reference, and what not, but Anna had switched off. He had spoken the words she had dreaded but had known would come. The shop was to close. It had been her life for five years. She didn’t know what she would do now.

  Chapter Three

  That’s it, then, she thought after Mr. Wilson had gone. The end of the month. Then I’m finished here, and on the scrap heap. And this is finished, too, she added, looking round the shop. All this. Gone.

  Suddenly it was too much. She retreated into the back room, the stock room. She sat on a carton of corn flakes and put her head in her hands. She pressed her fingers against her face, but it was no good. She couldn’t stop them. She gave way to tears.

  All these years she had invested in this place. Years when she could have been doing something else. Anything else! Something useful, with a future.

  The village needed her, as well. It was all right for the Wilsons, with their money and their big, fancy car, but what about some of their customers?

  Old Mrs. Campbell, for instance. She wouldn’t be able to travel into town. It was as much as she could do to shuffle the fifty yards to the shop. And that was on a good day, when she was feeling up to it.

  It would be no good talking to her about home deliveries from the big supermarkets in the town either. Even if Mrs. Campbell was given a computer, she wouldn’t know what to do with it.

  Mrs. Campbell wasn’t the only one, bless her. And without the shop, they wouldn’t be able to survive in the village. They would probably have to go into a home somewhere, and leave this place where they had lived all their lives. Nothing to do but play bingo all day!

  Anna smiled ruefully and sat up. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Then she rummaged in her coverall pocket for a fresh tissue.

  It was so sad and disappointing that it was going to end like this. Infuriating, as well. But it wasn’t the end of the world. Something would come up. She would find another job. Somewhere, somehow, she would. It just meant ideas of getting her own place to live would have to be put on hold for a while. That was all.

  The door-bell jangled. She jumped up out of habit. For a moment she contemplated sitting back down again, but she couldn’t do it. Her pride wouldn’t let her.

  It was old Mrs. Ferguson from across the street.

  ‘Good morning, Anna! Have you got any fresh bread?’

  Anna winced and glanced automatically at the rack of sliced bread. ‘I’m afraid not, Mrs. Ferguson. But those loaves only came in a day or two ago.’

  ‘He’ll have to have toast, then,’ Mrs. Ferguson said, referring to her husband, and turning to inspect what was on offer.

  ‘You could go into town to get some? Stay overnight and make a holiday of it!’

  ‘At my age?’ Mrs. Ferguson chuckled at the thought. ‘Even if I could get up the steps onto the bus, I’d never be able to get off again. Anyway, I’m not going there again till I’ve got some money to spend.’

  Anna smiled. ‘I know how you feel. You see all those lovely things in the shop windows. Then you end up buying what you can afford – a bus ticket home!’

  Mrs. Ferguson laughed and counted out the money for the bread. ‘All the same,’ she said, ‘it would be nice to have some fresh bread occasionally. I’ll have to start baking it myself, I suppose.’

  ‘I suggested bringing some in but Mr. Wilson doesn’t want to do that. He doesn’t think we’d sell enough.’

  ‘I’ll have to start a petition. Maybe that will persuade him.’

  Anna laughed dutifully. She had difficulty not telling Mrs. Ferguson that by next month it wouldn’t only be fresh bread you couldn’t buy in the village.

  The old lady collected one or two things more and headed for the door. Just before she left, she turned and said, ‘I don’t know what I’d do without you and the shop, dear. I really don’t.’

  There would be a few more thinking and saying that next month, Anna thought after she’d gone. Mr. Wilson wouldn’t know what he’d done until he’d closed the place. Then, hopefully, people would hammer on his front door to tell him.

  ‘Shop!’

  Anna grimaced and hurried through from the back room.

  Carol Armstrong was tapping the counter impatiently. ‘Caught you napping, did I?’

  ‘You did no such thing!’ Anna said indignantly. ‘I was just putting away some new stock.’

  ‘That wouldn’t take long. I don’t think the Wilsons believe in new stock, do they?’

  ‘Well... Not until we’ve sold the old stock.’

  They grinned at each other. Then Carol started laughing. ‘Same as our place,’ she said. ‘They like their money’s worth, these old-timer business people, don’t they?’

  ‘You’re right there. So what can I get you, Carol? Anything? Or have you just come to annoy me?’

  ‘Cheek! I’ll have a bag of crisps, while I’m here. They’ll do for my lunch.’

  ‘Fattening.’

  ‘Think I care?’ Carol twirled
round, her slim figure impressive.

  ‘No, I don’t suppose you do. I don’t know how you stay so slim.’

  ‘Worry! That’s how. I worry about everything. You should try it. You can eat what you like as long as you worry about it.’

  Anna laughed and shook her head. It had taken Carol to prove she could still laugh today.

  ‘I tell you why I’m here,’ Carol added. ‘I was wondering if you were going to the ceilidh in the village hall on Friday night?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know.’

  ‘It might be good.’

  ‘I’ve got such a lot on my mind, Carol. I’m not in the mood.’

  ‘What? What have you got on your mind?’

  ‘Well...’ She hesitated. Then she thought : Why not? What’s the secret?

  ‘Mr. Wilson just told me we’re closing at the end of the month – for good.’

  ‘Never!’

  Anna grimaced. ‘It’s true.’

  ‘That’s awful. What will you do?’

  ‘No idea. He just told me half an hour ago.’

  ‘Oh, Anna! That’s terrible. I’m so sorry.’

  Anna shrugged.

  ‘You’ll have to look on the bright side,’ Carol said firmly.

  ‘Is there one?’

  ‘Yes! There’s only one job worse than yours, and that’s mine. How would you like to be cleaning out horses all day? We should both get new jobs.’

  Anna knew she didn’t mean it. Carol loved horses. Looking after them was what she had always wanted to do.

  ‘You’ll find something soon,’ Carol added, seeing Anna’s wan smile. ‘You’ll see.’

  ‘I hope so,’ Anna said. ‘I really do. But I’ve been here such a long time. It will be a wrench to leave. Besides, the village needs this shop. It’s the only one there is. When it closes, there’ll be nothing left. No shop, no post office, no pub, no garage – nothing! Just the church, and I don’t suppose that will last much longer.’

  ‘The village!’ Carol said with a snort of derision. ‘It’s yourself you want to think about for once.’ After a pause, she added, ‘Come on Friday. It’ll take your mind off things. Do you good. I’ll get the tickets.’

  Anna looked up and shrugged. ‘All right,’ she said with a weary smile. ‘I need a good night out.’

  ‘Peggy Miller will be bringing her visitors.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘From Canada.’

  ‘I didn’t know.’

  ‘New men!’ Carol said, rolling her eyes. ‘Hopefully. We certainly need some around here.’

  Anna laughed. ‘What about Phil?’ she said, with Carol’s boyfriend in mind.

  ‘Oh, he won’t mind.’ She shrugged. ‘I think he’s lost interest in me.’

  ‘That’s hard to believe.’

  ‘Besides,’ Carol added, ‘I’ve lost interest in him!’

  *

  Afterwards, Anna’s thoughts returned to the future of the shop, and the village. She couldn’t help it. They really would have nothing left here after it closed. Unless you had a car, and could drive, it would be like returning to the Dark Ages. Worse. Back then, every village had its coaching inn or pub. All that would be left in Callerton when her shop closed would be houses, the church and the primary school. Oh, and the village hall – if they could raise enough money to mend the roof. Nothing else. It wasn’t a prospect that could fill anyone with delight.

  Chapter Four

  She waited past closing time in case Matthew came in, but he didn’t. In a way, it was a relief. She was running out of ideas for a more healthy diet for him. Perhaps he’d found some for himself, she thought with a wry smile. More likely he was working late, wanting to finish the job he was working on today instead of having to travel back again tomorrow. Now the light nights were here he could do that – and collapse with exhaustion when he got home, possibly with a bag of fish and chips from the van that came round the village once a week.

  Not for the first time, the door to the shop was hard to shut. Something had happened to it. Old age, probably. She stood back, gathered her strength and pulled it shut with a bang that made the glass panel vibrate and threaten to jump out onto the pavement.

  She grimaced. Something should be done about it, but it was hardly worth mentioning to Mr. Wilson. Not now. He wouldn’t want to spend any more money on the shop. His big idea – or Mrs. Wilson’s – was to close it and then turn the whole building back into a house that they could sell for a lot of money.

  Who could blame them, really? she thought despondently. They were of an age when they needed to enjoy themselves, while they still could – assuming they hadn’t forgotten how. Mr. Wilson would be quite happy in his garden, but she knew his wife wouldn’t. She was wanting to go on one of those cruises she was always on about. You saw them advertised in the Sunday papers. Perhaps a cruise every year, or twice a year? That would suit her nicely. Oh, she would have it all planned!

  As she walked home a big car drew up just ahead of her, outside the Millers’ house. The visitors, she thought, as the doors opened and people and suitcases emerged.

  Peggy Miller, one of her friends, a young woman her own age, called to her. ‘Friday night, Anna! Are you going?’

  The ceilidh, she meant. Anna smiled. ‘I think so. Carol’s getting tickets.’

  ‘Good! We are – all of us.’

  A tall man with neatly-cut, black hair smiled at her before Peggy hustled him towards the front door. Anna smiled and nodded to an older couple who were following. Peggy’s Canadian visitors, she thought. They must be a family. Well, no doubt she would meet them all on Friday night.

  Just as she reached her own house, she saw Matthew appear on the other side of the road. She waved to him. He crossed the road, coming towards her. She waited.

  ‘No, Matthew! I’m not going back to the shop. I waited long enough for you.’

  ‘That’s all right. I don’t need anything tonight, thanks.’

  ‘Good!’ She peered at him, surprised. ‘Are you going out?’

  He looked unusually smart, dressed in navy trousers and a white shirt. No jacket, of course. A man who did what he did for a living all year wouldn’t feel cold here on a fine spring evening.

  ‘Just coming back, actually. I’ve been out for the day.’

  ‘Oh?’ That wasn’t like him. ‘A day off, eh? Lucky you.’

  ‘A day off, yes. It wasn’t exactly a holiday, though. I’ve been over to Longwitton, helping my aunt while my uncle’s in hospital.’

  ‘Nothing serious, I hope?’

  ‘He says it’s his plumbing – it needs sorting out.’

  Matthew shrugged. They looked at one another. Their eyes met. He smiled.

  ‘His plumbing?’ Anna said, shaking her head and beginning to laugh.

  ‘That’s what he said.’ Matthew shrugged again and laughed himself now. ‘It doesn’t mean much to me either, but... Well, you know what older folk are like. There’s always something wrong with them. What about your day?’

  ‘The same. Nothing new. I wasn’t very busy today.’

  ‘Is it ever busy in your shop?’

  ‘Sometimes it is.’ She shrugged. ‘It doesn’t really matter now anyway.’

  ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘Mr. Wilson told me this morning he’s closing the shop at the end of the month.’

  Matthew gaped at her. ‘Oh, no! He never is?’

  She nodded. ‘He is. It’s true, right enough, unfortunately. It was a bit of a shock. But I suppose it’s been coming for a while now, the way he’s been talking.’

  Matthew grimaced and looked concerned. ‘What will you do, Anna?’

  She smiled, trying to be nonchalant about it. ‘Oh, something will turn up, I expect.’ But the bravado didn’t work. ‘I don’t know,’ she admitted. ‘I don’t know what I’ll do.’

  Matthew was quiet for a moment.

  ‘What?’ she said, seeing that he was thinking about something.

  ‘What will I do about my t
ea every night?’

  ‘Your tins of baked beans and Irish stew, you mean?’

  He grinned. ‘Just as I was thinking I could get used to that Italian you sold me, as well.’

  ‘The lasagne? You liked it?’

  ‘It’s better than baked beans, isn’t it? A lot better.’

  She laughed and gave him a gentle push. ‘Get away with you, Matthew Greig! You’ll have me as daft as yourself.’

  ‘Did you decide about Friday night, by the way?’ he asked.

  ‘The ceilidh? Yes. I’m going. Carol’s getting me a ticket.’

  ‘Good. I’ll see you there, then.’ He turned away. ‘Oh, by the way, when the shop closes...’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Might you be moving away to work?’

  ‘I sincerely hope not! But I don’t know, really. I haven’t thought that far ahead.’

  He nodded. Something in his face made her add, ‘I don’t expect so, though. Not really.’

  He smiled now and turned away again.

  ‘ ‘Bye, Matthew!’

  He waved over his shoulder. ‘See you!’

  She was still watching him, wondering why he’d asked about her plans, when she heard the front door open.

  ‘Tea’s ready, Anna,’ her mother called. ‘In fact, your dad’s complaining it will be cold.’

  ‘Coming, Mum!’

  As she entered the house, her mother said, ‘Was that Matthew Greig you were talking to?’

  ‘Yes. Just for a minute. He’s had a day off today. He’s been over to Longwitton, helping his aunt.’

  ‘He’s a nice young man,’ her mother said.

  ‘Yes. He is.’

  It was true, she thought longingly, as she hung up her coat. He always had been. Oh, Matthew!

  Chapter Five

  Friday night came. As she got ready, Anna found herself looking forward to the ceilidh more than she had expected. It was time she had a night out. She was becoming a very dull person, doing nothing but work and then going home. And at home she did nothing very much. Apart from what she did at the church, and with the Brownies. And the hospital visiting, she reminded herself. She did that, too, just as her mother had always done.