It was a nice town, thought Sally. Friendly. Even though nobody wanted to give her a job, they were all so kind to her. ‘Ah, sorry love,’ they said, ‘we haven’t got anything at the moment.’ Or, ‘We’d love to help, but things didn’t work out so well before, now, did they? But good luck finding something.’ Sally wondered what had happened before that so put these people off hiring new employees. But she didn’t worry about it too much. She knew something would turn up.
Maybe now that Billy had finished a play they’d be staying in this town for a while. Sally hoped so. She was sick of travelling. Billy was special, she’d grown up knowing that, and she had to do everything she could to help him with his gift – which was a gift for the world, really, that’s what their mother had always said – but she hated having to pack up and move on every few months. She wanted friends, real ones, that lasted. It felt disloyal saying that she was lonely. She and Billy had each other. But it wasn’t enough for her. Even though she wasn’t special, she wanted more for her life. Not that she had ever told Billy that. She didn’t want to make him feel bad. But maybe, just maybe, things would be different now. Someone would put on Billy’s play and it would be a big success, in the West End of London. They’d get a flat, a proper one, with two bedrooms, not one bedroom for Billy and the sofa in the living room for her. Maybe they could even see their mother again. She understood why Billy had had to get away from her – she was always weighing him and measuring him and taking notes on everything that he did and telling him he was rubbish – but secretly, Sally missed her. She was still her mum, after all. (Sally would have been surprised to discover that the mum she missed so much was at that moment lying on her back on the hard cot of her police cell a few blocks away, mentally composing the angry letter to The Times that she was going to write about her treatment the moment she was released.)
Sally had made her way from the B&B to the strip of shops close to the waterfront, and now she spotted the newsagent. It was called Thomas’s News. It had two displays outside, one of newspapers and one of postcards. Under the postcards were some beach balls in net bags.
Sally went inside. It was a nice place. She liked newsagents, all the shiny-fronted magazines, the brightly wrapped sweets and crisps, and the random things you found in the back, different in every newsagent you went into. This one had lots of colourful exercise books in stacks, and pencils and biros in white plastic tubs. She wondered whether she might be able to get Billy a discount, if they gave her a job here.
Behind the counter was a young man with a shaved head, wearing a checked shirt with the sleeves rolled up. She went over to him.
‘Are you Thomas?’ she said.
‘Yes, well, sort of,’ said the man. ‘Thomas is my surname, it’s a bit annoying having a first name for a surname, people always make that mistake. My first name’s Nelson. Which sounds like a surname. Maybe I should have called the place Nelson’s.’
‘Like the column.’
‘Exactly.’
‘Well anyway, hello, Nelson. My name’s Sally. That’s my first name.’
‘Sally?’ said Nelson. ‘Are you Bill’s sister?’
‘Yes,’ said Sally, surprised.
‘He was in here earlier, talking about you. He said that you like magazines.’
Sally didn’t recall ever having had a conversation with Billy about magazines, but she did like them. Or she didn’t not like them.
‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I like magazines.’ And, actually, looking around the shop, she could see lots of magazines that she would like to read, given the chance. She hadn’t realised there were so many magazines, on so many different subjects. ‘I’m here because I’m looking for a job. Do you have any jobs available?’
‘I do, actually,’ said Nelson. ‘We’ve been busier than I expected and I could do with another pair of hands behind the counter. I can only pay minimum wage I’m afraid, is that OK with you? I’ll be able to give you a pay rise, if the place is a success. Fingers crossed.’ Nelson smiled.
Sally crossed her fingers and smiled back. This would be a very nice place to work, she decided, especially if Nelson was there all of the time. With his smile, and his checked shirt with the sleeves rolled up.
‘That would be fine by me,’ she said.
‘Great,’ said Nelson. ‘Come in Monday morning, six o’clock? It’s pretty early starts, I’m afraid, working in a newsagent.’
‘No problem,’ said Sally. ‘See you Monday.’
Today was turning out to be a good day.