Her basket was heavy by the time she turned toward the checkout. It was simultaneously reassuring and frightening; the food should last her at least a couple of days, but there wouldn’t be any more until she found a way to earn money.
I might have my memories by then. There was only one person ahead of her at the checkout, so Keira joined the queue and did her best to fade into the background. Though I’m not sure how much good those memories will do. Adage might be able to help me find some unskilled job around town. I could garden or wash windows for a few dollars…
When the woman ahead finished paying and took her shopping, Keira stepped forward. She kept her head down as she unloaded the bags of rice, hoping the assistant would let her complete the transaction without any small talk.
No such luck.
“You’re new here.” The phrase was said curiously, almost wonderingly, and Keira raised her eyes.
The lady behind the checkout looked completely at odds with the quaint town. Violently red lipstick and dark eyeliner made her features pop, and her cropped hair was almost unnaturally black. She looked young—about Keira’s age—and her brown eyes were wide and sparkling. “What sort of ghastly bad luck landed you in Blighty?”
It was exactly the sort of conversation Keira had been trying to avoid. She managed a tight smile. “Just passing through.”
“No you’re not.” The woman propped her forearms on the bag of rice and bent forward, examining Keira’s face with far more interest than Keira appreciated. “This is Blighty. No one ‘passes through.’ It’s not close to anywhere and doesn’t bridge any other towns, and its only claim to fame is being a miserable hole where dreams go to die.”
Keira was lost for words. She glanced toward the store’s door, barely six paces away, then looked behind herself. A short queue had formed, but both parties were deliberately facing away, clearly not wanting to get roped into the discussion. She cleared her throat. “Uh…I think it’s a nice town.”
The sales assistant bent even closer, leaning so far over the counter that she managed to invade Keira’s personal space. One hand came up to tap at her lower lip as she narrowed her eyes. “I saw a dead guy outside my bedroom window last night. Now you, the first stranger I’ve seen in months, are standing in my store barely twelve hours later. Don’t expect me to believe that’s a coincidence.”
“What?” Keira stared at the assistant, then looked back at the other shoppers. They continued to ignore her. Is this a joke? Is she crazy? Did she seriously see a dead person? Does it have anything to do with—
The assistant’s eyes took on a fanatical glint as she somehow managed to stretch another inch nearer. Her voice dropped to a stage whisper. “Give it to me straight. Are we part of a government experiment?”
This can’t be happening. My life is already too complicated. I’m not getting paid enough to deal with…whatever this is.
“Okay, okay, I understand.” The woman finally slid back behind her counter and raised both hands reassuringly, though the effect was ruined by a conspiratorial wink. “You don’t want to be overheard. Tell you what, I’ll buy you a coffee, and we can go over this somewhere a bit more private.” She pointed to a faded white name tag stuck to her chest. “Zoe, by the way.”
“What?” Keira managed again. She felt as though she’d walked into a Picasso painting, where life just didn’t make as much sense as it should.
“Coffee. Now. I have some questions. You’ll give me answers. C’mon.” Zoe was already pulling off her apron.
Keira’s brain was doing its best to catch up. She found it hard to believe Zoe had seen an actual dead person at her window the night before—but there had been a genuine ghost outside the groundskeeper’s cottage. She wasn’t in a position to discount anything or reject any potential help, no matter how bizarrely it was packaged. “All right, okay. Coffee. But I need to pay for this first.”
“Yeah, yeah, sure.” Zoe grabbed the basket and riffled through. Before Keira knew what was happening, the other woman was prying the twenty out of her hand and shoving a couple of coins into its place. “That’ll be nineteen fifty-five. Thank you for shopping at Blighty General. Now c’mon. If we’re fast, we can get in before the lunch rush.”
“But—”
Zoe piled the bags back into the basket and shoved it behind the desk. “You can pick this up on your way back through. Oy, Lucas, take over for me.”
“What?” A skinny teen standing in line startled at the sound of his name.
Zoe snagged the boy’s collar and hauled him behind the counter. “Just cover for me for the next half hour, okay?”
His eyes bulged with dawning horror. “But I don’t work here.”
“You’ll be fine! Just scan stuff and take people’s money.” Zoe caught Keira’s sleeve and dragged her through the door. The sudden sunlight made Keira squint. She had all of half a second to inhale the brisk air, then the pressure on her arm was pulling her toward the intersection.
Zoe didn’t even check that their path was clear before striding onto the road, forcing a car to swerve to avoid them. Keira had no choice but to follow at a quick trot. Zoe was a head shorter than her but could have entered the Olympics for competitive power walking. As they reached the curb, she shot Keira a huge smile that was equal parts manic excitement and zealous determination. Keira tried to smile back, but it came out as a grimace.
I think she might just be insane.
Chapter Six
The café occupied the corner opposite the general store. Keira only had a second to read the bright-yellow wooden sign above the door—Has Beans—before Zoe jerked her inside. It was a welcoming sort of café, with big, squishy chairs spaced around the various nooks and a bookcase half-full of worn paperbacks near the window.
“Oh good, the corner’s free,” Zoe said. The café wasn’t quite full, but a small crowd had gathered, and the chatter blended in with the whirr of a coffee grinder. “That’s the best table. What d’you want? My treat.”
“Uhh—” Keira squinted to read the smudged chalkboard above the counter. Zoe had offered coffee, but it would be all right to get something else, wouldn’t it? Something with a lot of sugar and fat for energy. “Hot chocolate?”
“Oy, Marlene!” Zoe bellowed over the queue of patrons waiting to order. A sallow woman behind the counter looked up. “Bring us a hot chocolate and a caramel latte, okay? And two of those disgusting, overpriced muffins. I’ll pay you back later.”
Marlene gave a thumbs-up. Zoe shooed Keira toward a four-seater table in the corner between the window and the bookcase, then pushed her into one of the couches. The constant manhandling was grating on Keira’s nerves, but she purposefully kept her demeanor calm.
Play it casual. She can’t prove I’m not a tourist. And if I can redirect the conversation to the thing she saw outside her window, she might forget to ask too many questions.
Zoe took the seat opposite and shuffled it as close to the table as it would go. “Okay, spill the beans. Who’re you running from?”