Chapter 9
Scarlett walked around the end of the aisle at Neil Parson’s Hardware Store and paused as she looked at the packets of fuses on offer.
After spending the morning searching the internet with Jackson’s help, they’d figured the problem with the heater was likely to be a blown fuse or a broken thermal fuse.
An easy fix if she could find the correct parts.
She pulled her mobile from her bag and scrolled through to the screenshots she’d taken of what she needed to get.
Yep, here was the normal fuse anyway. She’d likely have to order in the thermal fuse, unless the shop kept some stock out the back.
Pulling a packet from the little metal hook, she joined the small queue at the till.
This shop certainly got busy for a village the size of Meadowfield.
There were either a lot of residents interested in DIY or else Neil the owner had a secret pact with the local handyman to fix duff parts and send people to his hardware store.
Perhaps the handyman got a percentage of the profits, or Neil allowed him to advertise for free on the noticeboard behind the till.
As she stood waiting, she looked down at her mobile still in her hand and sighed audibly.
Another seven missed calls from Tyler, and that was just this morning.
What was she supposed to do? She’d unblocked his number last night after Laura had told her he’d contacted her.
She just hoped allowing him access to her voicemail again was enough to deter him from searching out any more of her relatives.
After four months she’d hoped he’d have given up trying, and she thought he had up until Laura had told her he’d contacted her, so why was he trying to get in touch now?
Thelma perhaps? Maybe he’d just discovered she was missing.
It wouldn’t surprise her that it had taken him and Donna over a week to realise her cage was no longer behind the heap of boxes and bags in the spare room of their house. It wouldn’t surprise her one bit.
Well, she wouldn’t answer. She wouldn’t even listen to his voicemails. She didn’t want to hear anything he said any more. Heck, she couldn’t even believe anything he said any more.
Slipping her mobile back into her bag, Scarlett glanced up as the bell above the door announced someone else’s arrival, and a woman wearing a smart woollen navy coat and white hat bustled into the shop.
She recognised her from the wedding, she was sure she did.
It wasn’t the notorious mayoress of Meadowfield, was it?
Possibly. By the way the other customers turned and greeted her, perhaps she was.
She was certainly someone with authority, anyone could see that.
The woman in front of her indicated towards her teenage son who had been dribbling a football quietly up and down the aisle to the side of them to come and stand next to her before leaning in and whispering loudly, ‘Just pick it up and stand still until Miss Cooke has gone, please.’
Nodding solemnly, the son did as he was asked.
So, it was the mayoress then. Scarlett had heard so many stories about her from Laura.
‘Excuse me, everyone. I’m sorry to interrupt your shopping, but does that atrocity out there belong to anyone in here?
’ Miss Cooke’s voice rose above the general hubbub of chitchat and the shop descended into silence.
‘Come on. It’s parked right out the front of the store, it must be someone’s in here. ’
Scarlett turned towards the window and glanced outside.
She couldn’t see any vehicles parked directly outside.
There were yellow lines along the road right in front of the shop, but a few cars had been parked a little further down, which is where Scarlett had left her van.
She stepped forward as someone else was served.
Crossing her arms, Miss Cooke tutted as she glared up and down the queue of shoppers. ‘The large white van. I’m assuming it belongs to a tradesman in here. Come on, whose is it?’
Scarlett felt the blood rush from her face.
Large white van? Miss Cooke was talking about her Peugeot Boxer.
She glanced around the shop. The other people were thankfully keeping their heads down or their gaze fixed in front of them, likely trying to avoid eye contact with the tyrannical mayoress in case she called them out on something too.
It was no good; she had a feeling keeping quiet wasn’t going to be an option here.
From what she’d heard about Miss Cooke, she wasn’t one to give up.
Clearing her throat, she faked the largest grin she could and raised her hand.
‘The van is mine. I’m just buying something.
I’ll be out in a moment if you’ve knocked into it or something. ’
Oops, that hadn’t been the right thing to say if the reaction of the other shoppers was anything to go by; the collective gasp had been quite audible.
Miss Cooke spluttered before shifting her feet and answering indignantly. ‘I can assure you I have not “knocked into it or something”. In fact, I’d be slightly shocked if anyone did, it’s certainly big enough to notice.’
Scarlett nodded. She’d known she hadn’t, really.
She’d met people like Miss Cooke before.
People who just liked to complain because it was a van rather than a car.
No one could tell it was a camper, not from the outside.
That’s why she’d chosen it, because she’d wanted to be able to pull up on the side of a street and spend the night without worrying about people knowing she was inside.
She’d realised long ago that when faced with a busybody like Miss Cooke, the phrase ‘kill them with kindness’ was usually the most helpful resolution. ‘Then how can I help you?’
‘I’d appreciate if you moved it at your earliest convenience. It’s taking up far too much room to be parked along the main road in and out of the village.’ And with that, Miss Cooke turned on her heel and walked out of the shop.
Looking down at the fuse in her hand, Scarlett pretended to be engrossed in reading the instructions explaining how to fit it printed on the back of the packet, as she felt all eyes bore into her.
She hadn’t done anything wrong. She’d parked just as everyone else had.
Yes, her van may be sticking out a little more than the smaller vehicles, but she’d not parked illegally and there was still plenty of room for the other road users.
The sooner she could pay for this and order the other part so she could leave, the better.
The last thing she wanted was to make enemies around here.