'Er,' said Clara, looking at the rotting marrows and slimy turnips in the usually pristine greengrocers. 'Isn’t there anything fresh today?'
Mr Kingsley scratched his head, dandruff tumbling from under his tweed cap.
'It was fine yesterday,' he said, scowling at a grey, squishy potato. 'But this morning, it’s like this. With one exception,' he added, pulling a pumpkin from beneath the counter.
It was grinning.
'No thanks,' she said quickly. ‘Bye Mr K.’
'See you tomorrow,' he said hopefully.
'Sure,' lied Clara.
'Where’s the food?' said Lucas as she joined him outside.
'There’s nothing I wanted,' she said. ‘Let’s try the butchers.'
'Has he always sold eyeballs and entrails?' said Lucas, as they all but ran from the place.
'No,' said Clara, swearing off meat for the foreseeable. She looked at her empty basket. 'Bakery next?'
'Why not?' said Lucas. 'Not much can happen to bread.'
The jolly “Guthrie the Baker” sign was grey, black, and blood red, the friendly curling script now jagged Gothic letters caked in cobwebs.
Something green oozed in the corner.
Guthrie was staring at it in horror.
'First the egg custards curdled,’ he moaned. ‘Then the loaves looked like faces, now this.'
‘Um,’ said Clara. ‘We'll try again tomorrow.'
'I should,' he said. 'I wouldn't buy bread from a shop full of flies either.'
Lucas grabbed Clara's arm and pulled her away.
'Urm,' he said. 'Do you think Saff's lost the plot?'
'Maybe.’
'I heard that,' said a voice.
'Sorry,' they squeaked, suitably put back in their places.
'Look,' said Saffron, who is actually quite nice when you get to know her. 'Mrs Rathbone cooked you dinner. It's soup.'
'Thank -' started Lucas, who is adorably trusting at times.
'What kind of soup?' interrupted Clara, who isn’t.
'Vegetable.'
'What vegetable?’
'…Pumpkin.’
'No,' said Clara firmly. 'Not after yesterday. Carrot, or parsnip, or even cabbage -'
'I say, steady on,' said Lucas, alarmed.
'But not pumpkin,' said Clara.
'Fine,' said Saffron, sensing mutiny. ‘Mushroom. I'll make sure none are poisonous.'
'Pea,' insisted Clara. 'I don't want anything that may be poisonous, thanks.'
‘You’re no fun,’ said Saff.
Don'tcha just hate it when your characters stop trusting you?!
Oh well. Better luck tomorrow... Maybe.
See you then! Saff x
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