Read Page 98

“Er… yes,” I say, distracted. “Somewhere.”

I’m still thinking about Jess standing at the bus stop, all little and skinny.Advertisement

Jim is squashing the empty Cup-a-Soup box down flat. He turns and gives me an appraising look.

“Don’t worry, love. You’ll make up with Jess.”

“Maybe.” I try to smile.

“You’re sisters. You’re family. Family always pull through for each other.” He glances out the window. “Ay-up. They’re gathering early today.”

I follow his gaze, and see two old ladies hovering outside the shop. One of them squints at the bread display, then turns and shakes her head at the other.

“Does nobody buy bread full price?” I say.

“Not in this village,” says Jim. “Except the tourists. But we don’t get so many of those. It’s mostly climbers who want to have a go at Scully Pike — and they don’t have much call for bread. Only emergency services.”

“How d’you mean?” I say, puzzled.

“When the stupid buggers get stuck.” Jim shrugs and reaches for the half-price sign. “No matter. I’ve got to thinking of bread as a loss leader, like.”

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“But it’s so yummy when it’s all fresh and new!” I say, looking along the rows of plump loaves. Suddenly I feel really sorry for them, like they haven’t been asked to dance. “I’ll buy some. Full price,” I add firmly.

“I’m about to reduce it,” Jim points out.

“I don’t care. I’ll have two big white ones and a brown one.” I march over to the bread display and pluck the loaves off the shelf.

“What are you going to do with all that bread?” says Kelly.

“Dunno. Make toast.” I hand Kelly some pound coins and she pops the three loaves into a bag, giggling.

“Jess is right, you are mad,” she says. “Shall I do your eyes now? What look do you want?”

“Customers’ll be coming in,” warns Jim. “I’m about to put the sign up.”

“I’ll just do one eye,” says Kelly, quickly reaching for a palette of eye shadows. “Then when they’ve all gone, I’ll do the other one. Close your eyes, Becky.”

She starts to brush eye shadow onto my eyelid, and I close my eyes, enjoying the brushing, tickling sensation. I’ve always adored having my makeup done.

“OK,” she says. “Now I’m doing some eyeliner. Keep still… ”

“Sign’s going up now,” comes Jim’s voice. There’s a pause — then I hear the familiar tinkling sound, and the bustle of people coming in.

“Er… don’t open your eyes yet, Becky.” Kelly sounds a bit alarmed. “I’m not sure if this has gone right… ”

“Let me see!”

I open them and grab my makeup mirror. One of my eyes is a wash of bright pink eye shadow, with shaky red eyeliner across the top lid. I look like I have some hideous eye disease.

“Kelly!”

“It said in Elle!” she says defensively, gesturing to a picture of a catwalk model. “Pink and red is in!”

“I look like a monster!” I can’t help bursting into giggles at my lopsided face. I have never looked so terrible in my life. I glance up to see if any of the customers have noticed and my laughter dies away.

Jess is coming into the shop along with the other reduced-price shoppers.

She looks so cold and hostile, a far cry from that skinny eleven-year-old waiting for the bus in the early morning. Her gaze runs dismissively over the magazines, the open makeup case, and all my makeup scattered over the counter. Then she turns away without speaking and begins to root through the basket of reduced cans.

The bustle of the shop has dwindled to nothing. I’m sure everyone knows exactly what’s been going on.

I glance at Jim, who gives me an encouraging nod.

“Er… Jess,” I begin. “I came to see you this morning. I wanted to explain… ”

“Nothing to explain.” She turns over the cans roughly, not even looking at me. “I don’t know what you’re still doing here.”

“She’s doing makeovers with me,” Kelly says loyally. “Aren’t you, Becky?”

I dart a grateful smile at her, but my attention is still fixed on Jess.

“I stayed because I want to talk to you. To… to apologize. Could I take you out to supper tonight?”

“I wouldn’t have thought I was well-dressed enough to have supper with you, Becky,” Jess says tonelessly. Her face is still and set — but now I can see the hurt underneath. pqdm.com