Page 30 of Joker in the Pack

Cheese, ham, bread, and butter, with a bit of salad thrown in to give the illusion of healthiness. Once, I’d been religious about getting my five-a-day, but lately, I’d started counting the bottles of wine Maddie kept bringing around as fruit. On the way to pay, I walked past the household products shelf, and my OCD got the better of me as I added bleach, limescale remover, antibacterial spray, cloths, oven cleaner, and more scouring pads to my basket. Floyd’s eyes widened as I struggled to the checkout, dragging a mop and bucket with my spare hand.

“Planning on doing some cleaning?” he asked.

No, I planned to make special sauce down at The Cock and Bull. “Just a little.”

“Haven’t seen you round here before.”

Was I going to get questioned at every establishment I visited? “I only moved to the village yesterday. I’m living in Eleanor Rigby’s old house.”

“Really? I didn’t see that one go on the market.”

“No, I inherited it. I’m her niece.”

His semblance of a smile faded entirely. “Well, I hope you’ll be a better customer than she was. Always went into town, she did, on the bus every morning. People like her kill small villages like this.”

I could get a bus into town? That was great news! Hopefully, I’d find a proper shopping centre there. But at the same time, I couldn’t afford to upset my new neighbours.

“I promise to shop here more often than Aunt Ellie.” That shouldn’t be difficult. “I’d like to support local shopkeepers now I’m living here.”

Floyd cheered up at that, hardly surprising when one considered his prices. They made London look cheap. No wonder Aunt Ellie had gone elsewhere—my wallet shed a tear each time he took an item out of my basket.

“Did you bring a bag?” he asked.

“No, sorry.”

He tsk-tsked under his breath. “Folk round here tend to bring their own bags. Good for the environment, it is.”

And better for his profit margin too, no doubt.

He packed my purchases into plastic carrier bags, six of them, and I began to regret my penchant for cleaning. How was I supposed to get that lot home, plus the mop and bucket? I didn’t fancy making two trips. One dose of Floyd was quite enough for today, thank you.

If only Aunt Ellie had left me a car. Not that I could afford driving lessons at that moment, but walking everywhere would get old really fast, especially when it rained. I made a mental note to check the bus timetable and pined for London. I already missed the hustle and bustle of the city, and Pawel, who’d run the corner shop near my old flat, had certainly been more cheerful than Floyd.

Thehonkof a horn behind me made me drop the bucket, and I was about to glare at whoever was driving the blue Ford Galaxy when the window rolled down and Warren leaned out.

“Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to make you jump. I just thought you might want a lift with that lot.”

Ah, yes. He’d mentioned being a taxi driver. How did I politely decline without revealing quite how little money I had?

He must have read my mind. “Don’t worry—I won’t charge you. I’m driving past Lilac Cottage, anyway.”

“If you’re sure?”

He climbed out, and the brush of his hand against mine as he helped me stack my bags in the back made me stiffen. But when I looked at him, he smiled.

“You okay?”

“Absolutely fine,” I lied. The contact had felt…nice, but was I ready to contemplate spending time with another man? “I really do appreciate your help.”

“It’s no problem. Any time you need a ride, just give me a shout. It can’t be easy moving to a new place on your own.”

“It’s even harder than I thought.”

“I know the feeling. Took weeks for the other kids to speak to me when I arrived. Every night, I begged my parents to move back to London.”

“You’re from London as well?”

“Grew up in Hammersmith.”

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