His Favourite Girl

Betty Anderson watched the young woman struggle out of the old village shop with two toddlers, a baby and a heavy shopping bag.  She shook her head in sympathy, then turned her attention to her next customer.

“She’s got her hands full, hasn’t she?” she remarked.

Mrs McKenzie nodded, then bent her head and whispered: “I hear her husband’s been made redundant too. Goodness knows how they are going to manage now.” She pursed her lips.

“Yes, and he’s fond of a dram or two”, Betty added in a conspirational tone, “comes in every day for a bottle of the hard stuff.”

“Well, I never,” Mrs Green tutted. “That poor girl.”

Betty lifted her chin. “I’m glad I have no such worries. I like being single. I come and go as I please, eat when I please and I can read in bed till all hours without disturbing anyone”, Betty said smugly.

“You lucky woman. My Harry doesn’t like the light on when we go to bed. Grumbles like an old bear if I want to read when I can’t sleep.”

The shop bell rang and a large, coarse looking man entered. “Talking about old bears, I’d better go and make his tea before he starts eating the furniture. He likes to be fed at half past five or else he gets unbearable.” Mrs Green gathered up her shopping and stuffed the items into her well-worn shopping bag before leaving. “See you love.”

“Yes, bye Mrs Green. See you tomorrow. Now Jack, what can I do for you?” Betty said in her cheerful shopkeepers voice. Almost immediately, she regretted this turn of phrase. She felt Jack’s watery blue eyes devour her body. She stiffened and fiddled with her beads.

“There’s a lot you could do for me, girl.” He spoke in a husky voice that sounded as though too many whiskies had travelled down his throat. He leered at her then smirked and continued: “I want a bag of oatmeal and a stone of tatties.”

Irritated at his rudeness, she began to collect his order, still aware of his eyes on her. Betty detested rudeness, and not once in her 55 years had she behaved in an unladylike fashion. When she placed the goods in front of him on the counter, he lifted his hand and pointed a yellow, tobacco-stained finger at the cigarette stand behind her. “And my usual,” he added.