“Of course,” Hettie bustled forward. “Make way, young William, while I check it’s all bumps-a-daisy..”
“Sure,” said William hurriedly, backing away from the aroma, “it’s all yours.”
“Now let’s see,” beamed Hettie, pulling out a roll of receipts, “Ooh, haven’t you been a naughty boy. I see you haven’t cancelled out the mistakes you’ve made. Don’t worry, I’ll soon fix it.”
Her hands darted over the keyboard like a concert pianist and giggled as she did so.
“I call these naughties – just like your Uncle sometimes.” She glanced at Albert hopefully.
Pretending not to hear, Albert butted in hastily and waved them off. “I think you’d better go before the rush starts. Off you go, both of you – oh, and you might drop this packet off to old Mrs Sturgis on the way.” He sniffed, “And while you’re at it leave the door open, for Heaven’s sake…”
Outside, William apologised. “Sorry about that – Uncle’s a bit short handed at the moment. I hope you don’t mind if we make that delivery on the way. It’s probably another of his old pensioners who can’t make it to the shop.”
“Ah, well, I suppose every little helps.”
“Knowing Uncle, I doubt if he ever charges her. I sometimes wonder how he ever makes any profit,” apologised William.
“Then it’s a good thing he’s got Hettie to help him,” offered Sally. She heaved a sigh of relief. “He certainly got that awful Clive off my back.”
Over a salad lunch at Ma’s Snack-bar across the road, they relaxed and William seized on her remark about Clive as an excuse to find out more about her.
“Who was that chap, Clive – is he making a nuisance of himself?”
Sally grimaced.”Oh, he’s another of those pests that mummy is always trying to pass off on me. She wants me to get to know all the ‘right people’, as she puts it - she’s always doing it.” Seeing his mystified look, she sighed, “I suppose I should be used to it by now, just because dad got landed with the family title and all that rot, she thinks nothing is too good for me. She’s a terrible snob, I’m afraid.”
William nearly speared himself with a succulent morsel at the news, and looked worried. “Does that mean you’ve got some sort of title as well…?”
“No, thank goodness,” she grinned faintly. “It’s my big brother, Lance, who’s heir to the title, thank Heavens. Don’t look so worried,” she added, noticing his expression. “I’m still Sally, to all my friends.”
“But,” he picked his words carefully, “what does your mother think of you working part-time in the shop?”
“She’d have been delighted I expect, if she’d been alive.” For a moment Sally’s eye took on a wistful look.
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“That’s all right. She died soon after I was born, so I never did get to know what she would have liked.” She shook herself out of a daydream. “No, it’s my stepmother who’s the wicked witch. She doesn’t know, and I don’t intend to tell her. I expect she’ll hit the roof when she does hear,” she mused thoughtfully.
“Then why…?”
“Well, as a matter of fact, I felt sorry for your Uncle Albert– after what happened with that awful Foxey woman.” Seeing the puzzled look on his face, she laughed. “I’m not explaining this very well, am I?”
“Foxey woman?” William repeated groping. “Who she?”
“You mean to say you haven’t heard? Apparently she tried to make a pass at your Uncle in the shop yesterday to win a bet or something and it didn’t come off, so she’s going around accusing him of all sorts of things and trying to stir up trouble.”
“Wow,” said William, doing his best to digest the news. “I’d better let him know. If Hettie hears about it, she’ll be up in arms.”
“A tough lady is she?”
William nodded, “And how. Mind you, Uncle Albert can look after himself. It must have taken quite a bit of courage to take early retirement, and set up this village shop idea of his – it’s something he’s always wanted to do.”
“And are you planning to take after him?” Sally couldn’t help being curious.
William looked uncomfortable. “Well, I said I’d help him out for the time being…” Then getting it off his chest, he blurted out, “I really want to do something different…on my own,” then reassured by her look of sympathy, he confided, “ – like a painter or better still, a writer, but I haven’t had much luck so far.”
Trying to be helpful, Sally suggested, “Perhaps you ought to start off by getting experience on a newspaper or a magazine, or something like that.”
“As a matter of a fact,” William hesitated, “I have been doing some part-time work on the local rag…”
“That’s a good start then,” encouraged Sally. “How are you getting on?”
“Not too well, I must admit,” confessed William, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He paused for a moment, looking at her to see how she would take it, then reassured by her expression it all came out with a rush.
Halfway through his tale, Sally started to giggle, and when he came to the bit where the sub-editor voiced his outrage about the cartoon-like impressions she collapsed, wiping her eyes. “Don’t,” she said weakly, “I can just imagine it. Why, do you realise - you’ve got enough there to start a book off already…”
“Well,” he shuffled his feet, “I’ve knocked out one or two chapters based on some of my previous jobs, but I haven’t been able to interest anyone in it yet…”
“What sort of things,” she wanted to know. “It couldn’t get much funnier than that.”
He pondered. “I’ve done all sorts of odd things, I suppose. There was the time I helped out on a fairground…” he brooded, “and I had to escort the local beauty queen and take her up in a swing for a publicity photo…It wasn’t my fault the blessed swing broke down and we got dumped in the swimming pool next door and she came out with hardly a stitch on.Then there was the time I was doing work experience on an animal farm when a wretched iguana charged at me in the feeding pen…and I only had a few seconds to jump up on the counter, and he nearly got the manager instead…oh and the time we had a goat and I built a hut for it, and the wretched animal climbed up the wall inside and made it collapse… ”
“Oh, don’t,” cried Sally overcome. “Have you got anything finished I can look at – I’d love to see it.”
“Would you really?” William brightened. “I think I could dig it out, if you really mean it.”
“Oh, yes,” said Sally definitely. “Tell me, how did you get started on all this – what did your dad think of it all?”
William went silent for a moment and cleared his throat. “Dad wanted me to follow him into the engineering business, and Mum wanted me to be …” he suddenly looked bashful, “…a ballet dancer…but it didn’t work out…”
For a moment, Sally tried to conjure up in her mind the idea of William dressed up in a tutu, but gave up. Then she followed up his line of thought, her curiosity aroused.
“Why was that…?”
“They both got killed in a car crash,” he said simply, “… and Aunt Ethel was landed with the job of looking after me.”
Sally touched his arm impulsively. “I’m sorry - I didn’t know.” The sudden contact made William jump self-consciously and left Sally uneasy in her mind