|
DOWN THE AISLE by Julie Murphy
Holly hated Christmas. Well, maybe hate was too strong a word, but she
certainly didn’t see what all the fuss was about. She knew that
you were supposed to love it, but she dreaded it. Of course, it didn’t
help that her parents had lumbered her with such a Christmassy sounding
name. At this time of year she got so many jokes about it that, ironically,
she became quite prickly.
She hated the enforced jollity. Everyone was supposed to be having such
a good time with loved ones and friends. But what if they weren’t?
Her parents were out in Australia for three months visiting her only sister
and, although she got along well with the women at work, she didn’t
have any close friends. They all had husbands, partners or boyfriends,
and didn’t seem to want a single woman tagging along when they went
out. Lately she’d been thinking that it would be nice to have someone
special in her life. Maybe that would make Christmas more bearable.
‘I must be mad doing this,’ Holly muttered to herself, getting
a strange look from the man behind her. He glanced down into her trolley
and moved away to the next checkout queue.
So what was it that the article in her magazine had said? Yes, that supermarkets
were one of the best places to meet single men. Not that she was actively
looking, of course. No, she was a true romantic and she was sure that
Mr Right was out there waiting for her. One day, when the time was just
right, fate would throw them together. But, in the meantime, there was
no harm in giving fate a helping hand, was there?
According to the article, you could tell a lot about a man from the contents
of his supermarket trolley. She looked across at the man in the next queue.
He was certainly her type: tall, dark and handsome. What a shame that
she hadn’t had the chance to check out the contents of his trolley
before he’d scurried away. However, she recalled, he’d looked
into her trolley. Maybe he’d read the same article and was checking
her out. Interesting. So what did her trolley say about her?
She looked down and almost screamed out loud. There on top, for the whole
world to see, were corn plasters, support stockings and haemorrhoid cream.
‘No,’ she groaned, causing the people on either side of her
in the queue to look at her in alarm. ‘They’re not mine, honestly
they’re not.’ She picked up the offending items and held them
out. ‘I’m picking them up for a neighbour. Look, you can check
there’s nothing wrong with my feet, or legs, and I certainly don’t
have…’ She realised that she was starting to babble, and felt
her cheeks burn.
The shoppers around her feigned understanding smiles and quickly turned
back to their own shopping. The last thing they wanted was a conversation
with the local weirdo.
It took Holly a few days to build up the confidence to go back to the
supermarket. She was mortified by the spectacle she’d made of herself
and didn’t want to bump into someone who might recognise her. However,
the time had been well spent. She’d done a lot of thinking about
what should (and should not) go into her trolley to create the impression
of herself she wanted to portray to any man who happened to glance into
her trolley. She wouldn’t buy much, just a few things to give the
essence of the sophisticated, single woman any man would be unable to
resist.
She chose a few luxury food items, a bottle of decent wine and finally
she found herself in the clothes department. The silk lingerie went back
on the rail twice before she plucked up the courage to drape it beside
the other items in her trolley. It wasn’t the sort of stuff she’d
usually buy. She preferred warmth and comfort and this wouldn’t
provide either. However, if she was successful in her mission she might
have a reason to want something a little more seductive.
She took a deep breath and began to walk slowly up and down the aisles.
It was busy tonight with everyone starting to stock up for Christmas,
but after ten minutes or so she wasn’t aware that anyone had even
glanced in her direction, never mind taken a good look at the contents
of her trolley. So that left her no option. If an eligible man wasn’t
going to come looking for her, she’d have to go looking for him.
As she looked around she realised that this could take a while. Most of
the shoppers were couples, or women on their own.
There were a couple of possibilities - men shopping alone - but on closer
examination it was clear that they were taken. One had a pair of tights
in his trolley and the other had jars of baby food; clearly not evidence
of a bachelor lifestyle.
Then finally she found a strong candidate. He was quite good looking,
although maybe slightly younger than ideally she’d have been looking
for. That wasn’t a problem. There’d been an article in her
magazine about young men preferring slightly older, more experienced women.
Not that she was very experienced, but he wouldn’t know that, especially
if he looked in her trolley.
She followed him into the pet food aisle and as he scanned the dog food
section she took a furtive glance into his trolley. Absolutely no evidence
of a woman in his life. Maybe it was going to work out after all.
She watched as he placed a couple of cans of dog food in his trolley.
So he was an animal lover too. She was more of a cat person herself, but
his love of animals definitely showed a compassionate side to his nature.
Excellent. OK, time to make the first move.
‘So what sort do you have?’ she asked. Pet owners loved to
talk about their pets, she’d read that somewhere.
‘Sorry?’ the man looked at her with a puzzled frown.
Holly indicated the dog food. ‘Dog. What sort of dog?’
‘Oh, I don’t have a dog. Did you know that the meat in these
tins has such high quality controls it’s fit for human consumption?
And it’s half the price. I’m making a cottage pie for dinner.’
Holly pulled a face and shuddered.
‘Oh, it tastes great,’ the man assured her. He looked down
at the contents of her trolley and smiled. ‘In fact, why don’t
you come over for a meal tonight and I can prove it to you.’
Holly muttered an excuse and fled. She didn’t stop until she reached
the frozen food aisle. She stood by the turkeys, gasping for breath. She
knew that she’d never be able to bring herself to eat cottage pie
again. On the plus side, the contents of her trolley had worked their
magic and she’d been asked out by a man for the first time in months.
It was definitely worth persevering. She looked around. Just a few yards
away a man was picking out some frozen meals. All he had in his trolley
so far was beer. Very promising. As she pushed her trolley a little closer,
he turned to her and smiled. Unfortunately all he wanted was advice. His
wife had gone to stay with her sick mother for a week and he wasn’t
used to fending for himself.
Holly sighed. It was the third time tonight that she’d heard White
Christmas blaring out of the tannoy. She glanced at her watch and was
surprised at how late it was. She’d been wandering around for almost
two hours. She’d give it ten more minutes and then head for home.
As she walked around she had an unsettling feeling that someone was following
her. She glanced over her shoulder. The store was quieter now and there
was just one man behind her and he was intently reading the label on a
can of beans.
She walked on, but couldn’t shake off the feeling that she was being
watched. She turned around a couple of times, and the same man was still
just behind her. Of course, there was nothing odd about that; most people
tend to take the same route around a supermarket. She decided to double
back on herself and go down the previous aisle again. That would prove
once and for all whether she was being followed. She was right; he doubled
back too. Very intriguing. Obviously the contents of her trolley had attracted
an admirer.
She slowed down, giving him time to catch up. He slowed his pace too.
Maybe he was too shy to make the first move. She reversed her trolley
back towards him and cornered him by the Christmas crackers. ‘Are
you following me?’ she said with a smile.
‘Yes, madam. I’m the store detective and you’ve been
acting very suspiciously.’
Holly stared at him aghast. ‘Are you accusing me of shoplifting?’
she demanded indignantly.
‘No madam, but you have been wandering around the store for quite
some time without adding anything to your trolley.’
‘Is that a crime?’
‘No, of course not, but-‘
‘Well, I demand to see the manager.’
The store detective looked around him. A crowd was beginning to gather
around them lured there by Holly’s increasingly shrill voice. The
last thing he needed in his profession was to draw attention to himself.’“Yes,
I think that would be a good idea.’
Holly thought that it was very kind of the manager to offer her a lift
home after the upset of her experience with the store detective. They’d
had a long chat in the car and it was amazing how much they had in common,
including their single status. He’d been very happy to accept Holly’s
invitation to dinner the following evening, and he’d asked her if
she’d be interested in coming to the supermarket’s Christmas
disco with him. Suddenly Holly discovered that she didn’t hate Christmas
quite so much after all.
|
