Page 40 of One Summer

‘You’re the new petsitter.’ She nods to herself. ‘I recognise you from your photo.’

‘My photo?’ I say, confused, because there was no photo on my job application, nor any need for one. It’s not as if I’ve auditioned for the lead role in an off-Broadway play.

‘Your LinkedIn photo,’ she explains. ‘I looked you up – everybody did – once we heard you were coming. We wanted to see what you looked like.’

Everybody? Who’s everybody?

‘Oh…Why?’

She closes her mouth so firmly that I can’t help worrying that my question has offended her.

‘We wanted to see what sort of young woman would take the job, of course.’

‘Right.’

She breaks into a huge, beaming smile, as if genuinely delighted to see me in the flesh. Perhaps that’s why the woman at the harbour was staring at me. Am I somehow Loor famous?

I see movement in my peripheral vision and turn in time to see a red-headed woman disappear behind an aisle. She’s here again. It’s official: I have a Loor stalker.

‘Can I interest you in a frisbee for Ted?’ the shopkeeper asks.

‘You know Ted?’

‘Everyone knows Ted.’

‘I’m not sure he could pick up a frisbee,’ I say, looking down at him. ‘I don’t think he has enough mouth to get a firm grip.’

She looks at him too and says, ‘We have half-size ones, for the smaller specimens.’

Specimens? Ted is not even my dog and I’m offended by that. What is she planning to do to him? A bit of cheerful dissection?

‘Just the milk and kibble today, please,’ I say.

She walks around to the other side of the counter and sends a pink stick of Loor-branded rock skidding towards me.

‘That’s on the house,’ she says. ‘You’ll need the energy, what with all the work you’ll have to do.’

There’s something a bit gleeful and sinister about the way she says this, and it sets me on edge.

‘It’s all right, I’ll pay for it,’ I say, not wanting to be beholden to this woman for anything, not even a pink stick of sugar.

As if she can read my mind, she says, ‘It’s no bother. I’m Edie Hide.’ She smiles, as if this should mean something significant to me.

‘Halloon.’

‘Halloon? No, it’s my name on the sign above the shop. Didn’t you notice? Go and look now.’

I smile, confused, and go to hand over the money.

‘I’ll look on my way out.’

‘Just nip out now.’

She won’t take my money until I go to look, so I give in.

The name of this convenience store, this holidaymaker’s grotto, is Hide and Chic.

I go back in. ‘Very clever.’

---