‘OK, so now we just need frozen peas, tomatoes and thread,’ Pip’s mum said, holding the shopping list out at arm’s length so she could decipher Victor’s scribbles.
‘That says bread,’ said Pip.
‘Oh yes, you’re right,’ Leanne giggled, ‘that could have made for some interesting sandwiches this week.’
‘Glasses?’ Pip pulled a packaged loaf off the shelf and chucked it in the basket.
‘Nope, I’m not admitting defeat yet. Glasses make me look old,’ Leanne said, opening the freezer section.
‘That’s OK, you are old,’ said Pip, for which she received a cold whack on the arm with a bag of frozen peas. As she dramatically feigned her demise to the fatal pea wound, she caught sight of him watching her. Dressed in a white T-shirt and jeans. Laughing quietly into the back of his hand.
‘Ravi,’ she said, crossing the aisle over to him. ‘Hi.’
‘Hi,’ he smiled, scratching the back of his head, just as she thought he might.
‘I’ve never seen you in here before.’ Here was Little Kilton’s only supermarket, pocket-sized and tucked in by the train station.
‘Yeah, we usually shop out of town,’ he said. ‘But milk emergency.’ He held up a vat-size bottle of semi-skimmed.
‘Well, if only you had your tea black.’
‘I’ll never cross to the dark side,’ he said, looking up as Pip’s mum came over with her filled basket. He smiled at her.
‘Oh, Mum, this is Ravi,’ Pip said. ‘Ravi, my mum, Leanne.’
‘Nice to meet you,’ Ravi said, hugging the milk to his chest and stretching out his right hand.
‘You too,’ Leanne said, shaking his offered palm. ‘Actually, we’ve met before. I was the agent who sold your parents’ house to them, gosh, must be fifteen years ago. I remember you were about five at the time and always wore a Pikachu onesie with a tutu.’
Ravi’s cheeks glowed. Pip held in her nose-laugh until she saw that he was smiling.
‘Can you believe that trend never caught on?’ he chuckled.
‘Yeah, well, Van Gogh’s work was unappreciated in his own time as well,’ Pip said as they all wandered over to the till.
‘You go on ahead of us,’ Leanne said, gesturing to Ravi, ‘we’ll take much longer.’
‘Oh, really? Thanks.’
Ravi strode up to the till and gave the woman working there one of his perfect smiles. He placed the milk down and said, ‘Just that, please.’
Pip watched the woman, and saw the creases crawl through her skin as her face folded with disgust. She scanned the milk, staring at Ravi with cold and noxious eyes. Fortunate, really, that looks couldn’t actually kill. Ravi was looking down at his feet like he hadn’t noticed but Pip knew he had.
Something hot and primal stirred in Pip’s gut. Something that, in its infant stages, felt like nausea, but it kept swelling and boiling until it even reached her ears.
‘One pound forty-eight,’ the lady spat.
Ravi pulled out a five-pound note but when he tried to give her the money, she shuddered and withdrew her hand sharply. The note fell in an autumnal glide to the floor and Pip ignited.
‘Hey,’ she said loudly, marching over to stand beside Ravi. ‘Do you have a problem?’
‘Pip, don’t,’ Ravi said quietly.
‘Excuse me, Leslie,’ Pip read out snidely from her name tag, ‘I asked if you had a problem?’
‘Yeah,’ the woman said, ‘I don’t want him touching me.’
‘I think it’s safe to say he doesn’t want you touching him either, Leslie; stupidity might be catching.’
‘I’m going to call my manager.’
‘Yeah, you do that. I’ll give them a sneak peek of the complaint emails I’ll drown your head office in.’
Ravi put the five-pound note down on the counter, picked up his milk and strode silently towards the exit.
‘Ravi?’ Pip called, but he ignored her.
‘Whoa.’ Pip’s mum stepped forward now, hands up in the surrender position as she came to stand between Pip and the reddening Leslie.
Pip turned on her heels, trainers screaming against the over-polished floor. Just before she reached the door, she called back: ‘Oh, but, Leslie, you should really see someone about getting that arsehole removed from your face.’
Outside she could see Ravi thirty feet away pacing quickly down the hill. Pip, who didn’t run for anything, ran to catch him.
‘Are you OK?’ she said, stepping in front of him.
‘No.’ He carried on round her, the giant milk bottle sloshing at his side.
‘Did I do something wrong?’
Ravi turned, dark eyes flashing. He said, ‘Look, I don’t need some kid I hardly know fighting my battles for me. I’m not your problem, Pippa; don’t try to make me your problem. You’re only going to make things worse.’
He kept walking and Pip watched him go until the shade from a cafe awning dimmed and took him away. Standing there, breathing hard, she felt the rage retreat back into her gut where it slowly simmered out. She was hollow when it left her.
Pippa Fitz-Amobi
EPQ 18/08/2017
Let it never be said that Pippa Fitz-Amobi is not an opportunistic interviewer. I was at Cara’s house again today with Lauren. The boys joined us later too, though they insisted the football be on in the background. Cara’s dad, Elliot, was chattering on about something when I remembered: he knew Sal pretty well, not just as his daughter’s friend but as Sal’s teacher. I’ve already got character assessments from Sal’s friends and brother (his generational peers, I might say) but I thought maybe Cara’s dad would have some further adult insights. Elliot agreed to it; I didn’t give him much choice.
Transcript of interview with Elliot Ward
| Pip: | So for how many years had you taught Sal? | |
| Elliot: | Err, let’s see. I started teaching at Kilton Grammar in 2009. Salil was in one of the first GCSE classes I took so . . . almost three full years, I think. Yeah. | |
| Pip: | So Sal took history for GCSE and A level? | |
| Elliot: | Oh, not only that, Sal was hoping to study history at Oxford. I don’t know if you remember, Pip, but before I started teaching at the school I was an associate professor at Oxford. I taught history. I moved jobs so I could be around to take care of Isobel when she was sick. | |
| Pip: | Oh yeah. | |
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Elliot:
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