Late one evening in the supermarket.
On a quiet night in the towns supermarket, Emily sat at the till, wiping tears from her eyes, worn out by exhaustion, injustice, and loneliness. The sleepless night before hadnt helped. Her neighbour, Jack, a notorious drunk, had been making a racket again through the thin walls with his rowdy mates. Even the bobbies couldnt quiet him down.
Emily glanced around and dried her cheeks. A handsome young man in a smart coat approached her till. For a month now, this tall, dark-haired fellow had come to her checkout to pay for his pizza and orange juice. “Probably a loner,” she thought. “Some girls going to be lucky with a chap like that.”
The customer, pizza in hand, smiled and handed her a fifty-pound note, then hesitated. “Hang on, Ill fetch some changedont want to trouble you.” He paid and left.
An hour remained before closing. The few stragglers lazily loaded their trolleys. Yawning despite herself, Emily silently cursed Jack, who chose that moment to stagger in, dishevelled and bruised, clutching two bottles of posh vodka. With a mocking grin, he slapped down another crisp fifty. “Another all-nighter,” she thought bitterly.
“Jack, did you rob someone?” His bleary eyes flickered between bruises. “Why dyou think I nicked it?”
Out of habit, Emily held the note up to the light, running her fingers over itthen froze. “Hold on, Jack, somethings not right” She fed it into the detector and whispered, “Whered you get this? Its counterfeit!”
Jack stiffened like a mugshot, clutching the bottles to his chest, muttering a half-remembered prayer. Then he slammed the vodka onto the counter. “Check these too,” he pleaded, thrusting two more fifties at her. “Fakes as well. Ive got to call the police!”
“Emily, I swear, I found em outside! Some bloke dropped his walletI just took the notes. Dont turn me in”
She savoured his panic, nearly admitting her prankthe notes were real. But Jack, thinking hed pinched fifteen grand, bolted to the bin to destroy the evidence. With grim satisfaction, he tore them up and fled.
Emily was stunned. What had she done? Still, he deserved it.
“Excuse me,” came a familiar voice. The pizza buyer was back. “I was here earlier”
“I remember,” Emily said warily. “No change.”
“Not that Thing is, I lost my wallet getting into my car. Proper scatterbrain.”
“Was there much in it?” she asked, thinking of Jack.
“Moneys no bother. But Id scribbled an important number on a note. If anyone finds it, they can keep the cashjust send me the digits. Heres my card.”
“Right,” Emily nodded.
Her mood soured. For the rest of her shift, she brooded over how to help him. Finally, she grabbed a bag and dashed to the bin, emptying its contents.
At home, gloved hands sifted through torn banknote scraps as she cursed her stupid joke.
“And him, such a fool Bet its some girls number,” she thought bitterly, tears pricking her eyes. She found the digits on two fragments.
“But how to give it back? Cant call from my phonehe might ring back. What then? Mention the fake notes?”
She studied the card: Alexander Bennett, work and mobile numbers. She could callbut from another phone. Maybe ask old Mrs. Wilkins? But if Alexander rang back and the dear got confused, remembering Emilys visit Hed think shed kept the money!
Then it struck herthe caretakers phone. Hed never recognise her later. And if he did best make sure he couldnt. She bundled up in coats, scarves, a woolly hata ridiculous disguisethen slipped out, doubling back to avoid being followed.
At the corner, she spotted her mark: a middle-aged bloke, perfect for her plan.
“Here,” she muttered to the caretaker, flashing a fiver. “Batterys dead.” He handed over his mobile. Quickly, she texted the number to Alexander. “Ta,” she mumbled, hurrying off.
Alexander lay awake, not dwelling on the lost cash but replaying the days chance encounter. Heading to a café, hed heard, “Oi, Alex!” From a packed bus, his old mate Victor waved. Five years since theyd met. “Off to the stationring me!” Victor had yelled numbers. With his phone left at work, Alexander had scribbled them on a note, already imagining catching up. But nothing had gone to plan.
To distract himself, he lingered on a brighter thought: Emily, the checkout girl whod occupied his mind for weeks. Her wavy hair, clear blue eyes, warm smile Time to get to know her properly. This loneliness was getting old.
A notification chimed. Just a number. Whose? Then it clickedVictors! Tomorrow, hed call. If the number turned up, so had the cash. Now to thank whoever sent it.
“Hello. Cheers for thiskeep the money, its yours.”
A gruff voice replied, “Mine? Dunno what you mean. Im the caretaker.” The line went dead.
No matter. Tomorrow, hed tell Emily. Shed seemed so down earliershed understand.
Smiling, Alexander drifted off, already planning what to say.
Emily cried half the night, pitying herself, her messy life, even sorry for poor Jack and the unattainable Alexander, that lovable fool.
Next evening, Alexander bounded to her till. “Emily, brilliant news! Someone sent the numberI reached my mate!” He paused. “Wait Howd they get my number? Only you had my card.”
Emily went pale, tongue-tied.
“So it was you? You found the cash and sent the digits?”
Before she could speak, he turned on his heel.
“Thats ithe thinks Im a thief!” Panicked, she grabbed her bag and sprinted after him. “Alexander, wait!!!”
Shoppers gawked as she caught him, babbling, then yanked two red note scraps from her bagVictors number scrawled on them.
Soon, laughter rang out between them.
Weeks later, the Bennetts celebrated their whirlwind wedding, Emily swinging between giggles and happy tears. Even Jack enjoyed the party.
