The box was making Regan’s arms ache. She didn’t want to get off on the wrong foot. She made an attempt at a pleasant expression. ‘Look, could you watch my box while I find Bernice and sort this out … please?’
‘No.’ The woman carefully unwrapped another dragon ornament. This dragon was about to land on a terrified-looking goat. Regan would have very much liked to be the dragon; but only if this woman was the goat.
‘Right. Thanks.’ Regan stomped out of the market and back to her car to see a parking attendant getting out hisnotebook. ‘No, no, no!’ called Regan, trying to run and realising it was impossible with a box full of jam.
The parking attendant spun in her direction and pointed at the car. ‘This yours?’
‘Yes. Please don’t give me a ticket.’
‘I should,’ said the bearded attendant. ‘You working the market?’
‘Yes. First day and there’s been some sort of mess-up with my stall.’
‘Well you can’t park here.’
‘Where can I park?’ Regan scanned the road, knowing it was hopeless.
‘Plenty of car parks.’
‘But they’re miles away,’ she said with a deep sigh.
‘Your choice. Park here again and I’ll ticket you.’
‘Okay.’ Regan reluctantly returned the jam to the boot and drove off in search of a parking space. Finding one that was both close enough to ferry the jam to the market and that she could afford for the day wasn’t going to be easy.
After driving around for twenty minutes and inching up her annoyance level to one barely below ‘spontaneously combust’, Regan swung the car onto the wide pavement in front of the café. She marched inside with her frustration levels high and one of the boxes gripped tightly to her chest.
‘I didn’t expect to see … oh, is there a problem?’ asked Penny.
Regan left the jam with Penny and charged off to abandon the car somewhere. A ten-minute walk later, she was red faced and at the point of muttering obscenities when she returned to collect the boxes. By the time Regan marched back into the market, she was ready to send a dragon where no dragon had ever gone before.
Bernice was in a serious-looking discussion with another stallholder. Regan made a beeline for her. ‘Bernice, there’s someone on my stall.’
Bernice glared. ‘Then use another one.’ She turned away.
Regan opened and closed her mouth like a confused goldfish. ‘But, she … but …’
‘Oh, really. You’re not children. Surely you can sort this out yourselves.’
Regan huffed and shot a grade-A glare at Dragon Woman, who was looking smugger than Simon Cowell in a Who-Has-The-Whitest-Teeth competition. Regan lifted her chin and strode off to find an available table.
After a hurried setup, she almost felt like singing ‘ta dah!’ when everything was arranged how she wanted it. She looked up to see people milling about, so she fixed on a grin and waited for someone to show some interest.
An hour later, she had serious jaw ache and was still waiting for someone to give her stall the tiniest speck of attention. A few people had glanced in her direction, but her pleading puppy look hadn’t enticed them over. At last, someone with a determined gait approached.
‘How can I help you?’ she asked. Was that the right thing to say? She hadn’t thought this bit through. Perhaps she needed a jam patter that she could reel off.
‘Yes. What’s the code for the toilet?’ the man asked.
‘Oh, um, sorry, I don’t know.’ He quickly moved on.Great start, thought Regan.
The morning dragged on like a teenager doing chores. Her back started to ache, which made her feel old, and also realise that she needed to invest in a chair. All the stallholders had chairs, although they weren’t using them much because they were busier than her. She leanedagainst the nearby wall, puffed out a sigh, slapped on a smile and called Cleo.
‘Hey you,’ said Cleo, looking thrilled. ‘I was just thinking about you.’
‘You were?’
‘I saw a tiny dog dressed like a nurse.’
