Gone - first chapter

*

“Mornin’, Charley lass…the usual papers?”

As she handed over the money, she smiled at Harry’s insistence on calling her lass.  At forty-two, some lass, she thought.

She lingered, while gazing at the short, stubby man, compelling her mind to the moment.

He must have been well into his seventies, she decided, as he stood behind stacks of newspapers, magazines and rows of coloured wrappers that decorated the chocolate bars.  She couldn’t help but notice the shine of his hairless head, which bobbed up and down as he served his constant stream of customers.

Each day she’d stopped, he’d told her snippets of his life, never for an instant interrupting the flow of reading matter leaving the stand. 

‘Not tempted today eh?” asked Harry, his usual grin stuck on his face, seeing her eye the chocolate.

“You know I’m trying to give it up Harry, if only to wear this new trouser suit for more than a few weeks before I go up another size.”

 “Come off it lass, ya look great ta me!  There’s nowt wrong with a bit of meat on a woman, somat to get ‘old of.”  He sighed then said, “I remember when Maggie ‘ad ‘er generous curves, until a new fad diet took ‘old.  I really miss ‘em.”

“There’s meat and there’s lard Harry.”  Changing the subject quickly, she added, “Anyway, how are things?”

“I’m alright, family too.  Ya look a bit tired lass, what’s up?”

“I’m fine," she replied, at the same time wondering how many times that stupid phrase was said in a day.

“Ya work too ‘ard, ya do Charley.  I’m saying ya should slow down, enjoy life a bit.  If ya don’t, it’ll pass by like a double-decker when it’s rainin’,” he said, his eyes fixed on her, a serious expression on his deeply lined face.

She’d never talked about Jenny to him…how could she, like this, in the middle of the street on the way to work?  And how could he understand, weren’t their lives worlds apart?

Stop wallowing, she told herself, while one hand strayed to one of the slabs of chocolate, the other gravitating to the bulge of her hip. 

Surely one small bar wouldn’t hurt?  

She felt its rippled back, could almost taste the mixture of caramel and chocolate just before the unmistakeable flavour of peanut.

Why did she deny Jenny’s existence?  And how could the world of chocolate change things?  Would it prevent the pitying looks if she confessed her secret, act like some magic talisman against the condemnation reflected in their eyes?  Did guilt and shame intertwine, she wondered, and which came first? 

How to choose, she pondered, seeing one of her favourites, anticipating the warmth of honeycomb melting on her tongue.

None, she decided, as if snapping out of a trance, shrugging away temptation.

“Must be going…important meeting,” she said.  “And has anyone ever told you, you should have been a shrink?”

“Only for the people I like, lass,” he said, with a grin as she walked away, noting the anxiety in her face and voice.

Watching her stride into the distance, a strange feeling came over him and he almost called her back.

“Maybe tomorrow,” he muttered, before shrugging his shoulders and busying himself with the new flurry of customers.