I checked my gun again and pushed open the door that had its own unique bell attached to it. It rang innocently. I made my way to the magazines, whilst checking every aisle of the little shop for this person who had left their engine running. I couldn’t see them. I could only see the shopkeeper standing behind the counter. A small man, he looked like an old Thai boxer. He looked a bit odd, just standing there, still, looking straight ahead. I thought he might have been half-asleep seeing as it was so late, but as I focused in on his face, his eyes were looking directly into mine. And they were wide. Wider than they should have been. His mouth looked tense, like he was under some sort of threat and hoping I could be his salvation. He had the familiar look of fear that I had seen in shopkeepers’ faces over recent weeks.
My heart was beating faster than usual. I couldn’t help it. I still, after four times of doing this, could not control my own bloody nerves. The more I argued with them, the harder they seemed to grip me, until I could feel the muscles in my arms quivering as I clung to the steering wheel.
The next morning, around 8am, the doorbell rang, Jeremy was woken up and decided to just leave it. Madeline had a key, and anyone else could just leave a note if it was that important. But the doorbell kept ringing. Four times it rang, until Jeremy heard the door being opened. He sprang out of bed just wearing his boxer shorts and he burst onto the upstairs landing, to see Madeline walking in with her key in the door, followed by Dr Fobwell. “I’m so sorry about this, perhaps they are asleep,” Madeline said, as she shut the door behind them. “I’ll go up and see if they are awake.”
“Daddy I’ve got an idea!” Michael burst in from the garden one Saturday afternoon, after he had been reading his book in the garden. Jeremy was just about to make his way out to join him, to inspect his cabbages, and perhaps pick one for supper. “Ok,” his father replied, clinking his spoon on the side of his cup as he finished making his tea.
“What if,” Michael said, as he slapped his book on to the counter-top. “What if,” he was panting excitedly, “we took mum into the forest?” Jeremy sipped his tea, and gave the same reply that he had given his son before.