Tuesday, 14 June 2011

It was unusual for Francis to be in such a pleasant mood. In the queue for the checkout she watched a fat old man, who looked like a large toe wrapped in scarves, shouting at the girl who worked behind the blue glass. 
  Francis smiled. 
  She put her hands in the pockets of her fleece and felt the ten 'lucky seven' cards she had bought the week before. They were scratched smooth, curling like grey slugs.
  It had been raining when she sat on the vast flight of steps outside the market scratching them. She laid them out in front of her sensible shoes and blinked at them in disbelief. 
  She had not won a pound. 
  Francis was sure that there had to be another way out. 
  She reached the counter and shouted through the glass, “you got a bin back there love?” 
  The girl scowled as she peeled the tickets off the counter, “you’re not very lucky are you?” She had short blonde hair, which was dark at the roots and a nose piercing. 
  The line of customers reached to the back of the home-ware aisle and a woman in a museli patterned dress was crunching her trolly wheels. 
  “Don’t worry Hun,” Francis said. 
  She tried to pat one of the girls long fingers, but the blue plastic separated them. 
  The girl was bathed aquamarine light.
  “You’re going to be famous soon.” 
  She opened up her wallet and held up card to the glass so that the cashier could see. She pointed to her photograph and to where it said, ‘Psychic Network’ and wiggled her eyebrows emphatically.   “You’re gonna be famous Hunny."  
  Francis cupped her left breast and said, "I can feel it.” 
  She left the supermarket feeling better that she had in years.

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