When I get back to the shop floor, I try and concentrate.
The Turtle is hovering around behind me, ten metres away.
Peach fountain, she says.
Yep, I say.
Quickly, she says.
Carmella’s tita, Lucinda, will feed me up. She will feed me until I swell and explode. It will be nice. We will laugh about it afterwards.
I try and arrange the peaches.
The other fruit and vegetables, meanwhile, are sorry-looking.
I pause for a second to look at them.
I clock out and get my coat from the cloakroom. Carmella’s coat is gone.
On the way home, I pass a sign for a lost dog sellotaped to a telegraph pole.
Lost dog, it says. Last seen on Friday. Brown Irish mast-hound. Gammy leg. Answers to ‘Pippet-Face’. Ten pounds reward.
I get home.
I go and look in all the rooms.
Ian is still not home.