Henry turned and walked back to the bus stop, relieved to be putting some distance between him and Billy. It was overcast but to Henry everything seemed brighter than it ever had; the brightness of a new page. If this was his new reality then Henry was very happy with it. He had a chance to put everything right and that’s exactly what he would do. He just had enough time to grab a sandwich from Pansies. Henry felt buoyant. So much so that his hand went into his pocket as he approached the tramp. He handed a pound coin to the man and felt supremely righteous. All Henry had to do was avoid boats and rivers on Saturday. He was in control of his destiny. He was back behind the wheel and he wasn’t going to crash.
*
Rita opened her lunch box and groaned. The orange juice bottle had leaked all over her ham sandwich. The bread had been fresh too. A white seeded loaf. Rita had been looking forward to it. Now it wasn’t even decent to feed to the ducks. She’d have to get something inferior from the store and wrinkled her nose at the thought. The sandwiches there always had copious amounts of mayonnaise inside and Rita disliked mayonnaise. Instead she decided to spoil herself for once and get something from Pansies. It’s not like she did it often, she reasoned. It would also give her a chance to go around Bodgin’s department store that was close by. She had an hour and it would be silly not to make the most of it. Rita liked the department store. She stopped and watched a woman having a make-over, fascinated by the vast array of cosmetics.
‘Would you like to try our new range?’ the assistant asked.
‘I only have forty minutes,’ said Rita timidly. ‘It’s my lunch break.’
I’m like a little mouse, she thought.
‘Plenty of time,’ smiled the assistant, pulling out a stool.
‘Well …’ hesitated Rita. ‘I shouldn’t really go back with too much make-up on,’ she said sounding like a runaway nun. She reminded herself to leave enough time to get to Pansies.
‘Fifteen minutes at the most,’ said the assistant, gently easing Rita into the stool.
Rita positioned herself in front of the mirror and waited for the transformation. Several people stopped to watch her being made over and for a few minutes Rita felt like a celebrity.
‘Do you work nearby?’ the assistant asked as she applied a light foundation.
Rita thought she had a lovely voice. It was soft with a slight huskiness to it. She smelt of vanilla and tobacco. She probably smokes too much, thought Rita, that’s why her voice is so husky.
‘Fresco’s supermarket,’ said Rita, blushing. ‘Today is usually my afternoon off but we’re short of staff and the extra money will help.’
It sounded so limp compared to being a make-up artist.
‘Trouble with that is you don’t see the money until the following month,’ said the girl who obviously knew all about overtime.
‘Yes,’ agreed Rita.
‘Great cheekbones,’ gushed the assistant as she stroked blusher across them. It gave Rita a peachy glow. Black kohl was drawn across her eyelid making them seem much brighter.
‘There,’ said the assistant, after applying mascara. ‘The colours suit you. Let me show you what I used.’
She then spent ten minutes trying to coax Rita into buying the cosmetics. They were far too expensive for Rita, but she didn’t want to tell the assistant that. She was also beginning to panic that there would be little time left to get her sandwich. Finally, she agreed to purchase the peach blusher and the assistant seemed satisfied and Rita was free to go. She now only had fifteen minutes and had to abandon her plan of browsing the clothes. She calculated she’d need all her time, especially if there was a queue at Pansies. As it happened there wasn’t, and Rita had an extra five minutes. Her plan to order a smoked salmon sandwich was scuppered by the array of choice on the menu and instead she chose a turkey and stuffing ciabatta roll and a blueberry muffin. It was placed in a small brown paper bag and Rita left with her mouth watering in anticipation. She’d only gone a few steps along the road when she heard her name being called. She turned to see a man hurrying towards her, waving his arms.
‘Rita, wait.’
She watched, mesmerised for a moment as he weaved his way through the busy shoppers.
‘Rita,’ he said breathlessly on reaching her. ‘I thought that was you. I was having lunch in the café.’
It was Henry one of the customers from the store. Rita rather liked Henry. He always had a chat with her. He was intelligent, more so than the other customers. It was always funny when you saw people outside of the store. He looked strangely different, thought Rita. His skin was darker, she noticed. The store lights did strange things to people’s faces. It was so much easier talking to them when she was behind her samples. Rita always looked forward to Henry’s visits. She thought he liked her too. But Henry was married, and married men were a forbidden entity. All the same they had become friendly. Henry had told her about his holiday in the Isle of Wight and Rita had looked it up on Google.
He had some kind of stomach problem, she remembered.
‘Oh, hello,’ said Rita. ‘How are you?’
‘I’ve never been better,’ said Henry excitedly, his eyes bright and wide. They’re almost manic, thought Rita.
She fingered her necklace nervously. The thing is you never really know people.
‘I’m late back to work,’ she said turning. If she didn’t get back soon there wouldn’t be time to have her turkey stuffed roll.
Henry grabbed her arm and Rita felt a little surge of fear run through her like a tiny electric shock. Her scalp prickled and her body became suddenly hot.
‘Rita, don’t you remember that I came to you last night and we talked about the psychic?’
