On Thursday Claire set her alarm for and slept on her bad ear so she would hear it. She felt cautiously optimistic as she dressed, buoyed by the cup of tea she’d had with Lucy and Juliet Bagshaw yesterday afternoon.
There had been something so pleasant and welcoming about their kitchen, with its green Aga and a jar of early daffodils on the windowsill and the B&B guests going in and out. Lucy’s good humor was, as ever, infectious, although her half sister, Juliet, had taken a bit more getting used to. Her smile reminded Claire of a crack in a plate, and she’d given her several speculative looks that had left Claire squirming. But she’d been friendly enough in the end, and Lucy’s warmth certainly made up for any lack on her half sister’s part.
Sitting with them, listening to their good-natured bickering, Claire had felt a part of things. At least, she’d felt as if she could be a part of things, eventually. Maybe.
Buoyant, Claire made it to the village shop by ten minutes to eight, and this time she stepped inside with a cheery smile for the man at the counter.
“Morning, boss.”
“Just call me Dan.”
“Okay. Dan.” Claire glanced around, but the newspapers and milk hadn’t arrived yet. “What would you like me to... ?”
“I thought I’d teach you how to operate the till. That’ll be most helpful, when I need to be at the post office counter.”
“Okay.” She eyed the cash register, telling herself it couldn’t be that difficult. It was nothing but an oversized calculator.
“You need to come around this side,” Dan said.
“Oh. Right.” Claire moved around the counter with its racks of sweets and crisps to the small space behind it. There was barely room for both her and Dan, especially considering how huge he was. Claire didn’t even come up to his shoulder.
“So it’s a basic machine,” he said. “You check the price sticker, you input it into the machine.” He pointed to the number buttons. “Then you hit the tab and the drawer opens. Take the money, make the change, close the drawer, and give the receipt. Simple.” He eyed her expectantly, and after a second Claire recited, “Money, change, drawer, receipt. I think I’ve got it.”
Dan didn’t look convinced. Standing this close to him made him seem even more intimidating. He had a tattoo on the inside of his forearm that said “sapper” in curly script, surrounded by clouds of fire. Claire realized she was staring at it, and she moved her gaze up to Dan’s face. This close to him she could see that his eyes were brown with flecks of gold. From a distance, narrowed in his usual glare, they’d just looked dark.
“Why don’t we practice?” he said, and moved past her to the front of the shop, his large body brushing against her as he did so. He smelled of soap.
“Okay.” She stood in front of the cash register as if it were an undetonated bomb. She could do this. She really could. She tucked her hair behind her ears and wished her heart hadn’tstarted pounding. All she was doing was operating a till, for heaven’s sake. It didn’t have to be hard.
Dan plunked a bar of chocolate onto the counter. “Ring that up, then.”
“Right.” Gingerly Claire picked up the bar of Bournville. “Okay. Eighty-nine pence. Got it.” Her voice sounded squeaky. She stabbed the eight and nine buttons on the till, and Dan made an impatient harrumphing sound.
“You just charged me eighty-nine pounds for a bar of chocolate. You need to put a zero and decimal point first. Everything is rung up in pounds.”
“You didn’t tell me that,” Claire protested.
“I thought it was obvious.”
“Well, it wasn’t.” She bit her lip and searched the keypad of the register. “Is there a delete button?”
“Oh, for...” Dan muttered under his breath, and then moved around to join her behind the counter. He pushed the “clear” button and then rang the order up himself. The drawer opened with a jolly sounding brrrng that was at odds with the tension emanating from the man operating the register.
“Sorry,” Claire said, and he shoved the drawer closed and ripped off the receipt before flinging it into the bin.
“Don’t be so sorry all the time. I’m the one who hired you.”
“Yes, but you probably thought I wasn’t quite as useless as I am.”
“Actually, I did. Why don’t we try again?”
This time Claire managed to ring up the bar of chocolate without any problem, and the sound of the drawer opening made her nearly weak-kneed with relief.
The newspapers and milk had arrived while they’d both been behind the counter, and after tossing the second receipt in the bin, Dan handed her the bar of Bournville. “Keep it,” he said tersely, and then headed for the post office counter. “You canstack the papers until someone comes in. Don’t attempt to do cigarettes or Lottery cards, though, all right? Those are handled differently.”
“Okay,” Claire said, and watched while he opened up the post office, wondering if this meant she was actually in charge.
The first person to come into the shop was Eleanor Carwell, dressed in the same twinset and tweed skirt she’d worn yesterday, looking just as sniffily imperious. She collected her milk and Telegraph and placed them both on the counter, clearing her throat unnecessarily as Claire hurried over.
