Mable's Marvellous Sweetie Shop 2

Part 1 here.

Rea blinked and cast a sideways glance at the old lady - who was right beside her.

‘I didn’t even hear her move. I thought she was still by the door.’

Turning back to the strangely named sweeties, Rea asked “What, they’re supposed to taste like victory? Uh, sure, I’ll try some.”

“I’ll measure you a scruple.”

“A… what?” Rea squinted at the labels, but there were no prices listed. Nothing except the flavour.

“It’s our minimum buy.”

“Er, ok.”

A ‘scruple’ turned out to be eleven sweeties, according to the big brass bowl scale on the counter.

The old woman poured the ‘victories’ into a waxed paper square and in a few deft twists turned it into a sealed cone. Then she gave Rea a piercing, appraising look.

“Five pounds, please.”

‘Eesh, talk about steep! Deffo never coming back.’

But walking away now would be awkward and rude, so Rea suppressed a pout and pulled out her phone.

“Sorry, dearie, we don’t do any electric pay. Can’t get a signal.”

‘Uggggh.’

Did she even have cash? Rea fumbled in her coat pockets and found a wrinkled and stained fiver. Left over from when you couldn’t use your phone to pay for the bus.

“Perfect.” The old woman smiled again, her pearly whites glinting against the shadows of the shop.

“Right.” Rea forced a smile in return and accepted the paper cone. Then, commercial duties dispatched, she finally felt free to excuse herself. “Bye! Have a nice day!”

“You too, dearie.”

Rea, already half out the door, barely caught the words. She was busy grumbling to herself. Why had she agreed to buy a handful of fifty-pence sweets? She should have just walked out. Should have laughed in the old bag’s face!

Well, at least it had used up a raggedy old fiver the bus probably wouldn’t have taken even if they still took cash. So she hadn’t lost anything, really. That cheered her up.

The park was mostly empty. Even from the gate she could see that there was nobody at the gazebo. She checked her phone, a last gesture of hope, but there were no ‘we showed up and you weren’t here messages’. Nothing in the chat at all since her suggestion that they meet up.

But she was here. And the gazebo was the meeting point. And it was a bit out of the wind, which was whipping against her cheeks with the unrelenting damp touches of an unpleasant friendly dog who wouldn’t take a hint.

So she shoved her phone back in her pocket and slouched to the gazebo to flop onto one of the cold wooden benches.

‘Not even any ducks to watch.’

She sighed and rummaged in her pocket. Might as well try these sweets.

‘With how much that bag was charging for them, they’d better taste amazing.’

She popped a victory in her mouth with exaggerated anticipation. And the world dropped away.

Part 3 here.