Page 21

‘I’m sorry, but this doesn’t make any sense,’ he said, as he tried to loosen the strap Holly had tied so neatly. ‘How do you have so many types of the same sweets? Liquorice Allsorts, liquorice root, liquorice laces, liquorice wheels, liquorice bullets. Why not just sell one type of liquorice?’

‘Because people don’t want just one type. They all like different things.’

‘But how are they all different if they’re all liquorice?’

‘Well, because that one has coconut with it, and those are covered in sugar, and I’m not getting into it with you now. We’ll have customers any minute, and I need to show you how to work the till.’

‘The till?’ Evan said, raising an eyebrow.

‘Yes, I’ve got some things that need sorting out upstairs, so if we have a quiet spell, I’m going to leave you down here on your own.’

Evan didn’t move, but his skin took on a decidedly greenish hue.

‘You’re joking, aren’t you?’

‘You run a multi-million-pound business,’ Holly said accusingly. ‘I’m sure you can deal with a customer or two.’

As she spoke, a familiar face walked in through the door. Hurriedly, Holly pushed Evan round to the back of the counter.

‘Oh, this will be perfect.’ She grinned.

19

Holly was grateful for all her customers. Without them, she wouldn’t have a business. And as important as the tourist trade was, it was the locals who kept Just One Morerunning. The regulars who came out regardless of the weather to get their sweet treats and keep the bills paid. But while she was grateful for them all, there were some that were far nicer to interact with than others.

‘Mr Bettinson.’ Holly forced herself to smile as the old man limped in. ‘What would you like to get the grandchildren today?’

Mr Bettinson, whose weekly habit was purchasing sweets for his grandchildren, was normally only mildly amiable at the best of times. He looked up at Evan and scoffed.

‘Bit old to start a Saturday job, isn’t he?’

‘Evan’s just helping me out for today,’ Holly said in her sweetest voice possible. ‘And maybe a couple of days here and there in the foreseeable future. Evan, this is Mr Bettinson.’

‘Pleased to meet you, sir.’

Holly didn’t know if it was nervousness, or deliberate, but she had never heard Evan speak with such a deep American drawl. Mr Bettinson’s eyes widened.

‘Are you from America?’

‘Yes indeed I am, Mr Bettinson. Now, what about those sweets for the grandchildren? What kinda thing do they fancy? You know, we have a whole range of liquorice here.’

Whether it was because he was wearing the pinstripe blue pinafore that looked completely ridiculous, the fact that he was definitely not local, or just somehow new, Mr Bettinson continued to eye Evan with distrust.

‘Jelly babies.’ His answer came in two words. ‘Big bag.’

Holly smiled. Thankfully, customers like Mr Bettinson were few and far between, and Holly rarely had to worry about people like him. He was likely the most unpleasant person Evan would have to deal with all day. Still, it didn’t hurt for him to see that her days weren’t all sunshine and roses.

‘Okay, Evan, over to you,’ Holly said. ‘A large bag is two hundred grams. If you want to grab the jelly babies from the shelf and bring them over here, you can weigh them out.’

‘He said he ain’t a Saturday boy, but you’re sure treating him like one,’ Mr Bettinson commented.

Evan smirked as he collected the jar from the shelf.

‘You’re quite right. She is, isn’t she? Now, jelly babies. Good sweets, these. Classic. It’s a taste you never forget. My grandmother’s from Bath, do you know it? She loves her jelly babies.’

Mr Bettinson’s glare lessened by a fraction.

‘So you’ve got some of this country in you, have you? Not totally foreign?’