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The morning started well enough—Sassy showed her how to do the banking and count the float, and explained the ordering system for the next week’s deliveries. But around ten o’clock, two women came in, and it seemed like the temperature in the shop seemed to drop several degrees.
‘Morning, Sassy,’ the older one said, her voice clipped. She was in her sixties, Sophie guessed, with iron-grey hair pulled back severely and a mouth that looked like it had forgotten how to smile.
‘Morning, Margaret. Jennifer,’ Sassy replied, her tone noticeably more formal than it had been moments before. ‘This is Sophie, my new assistant.’
Margaret’s eyes swept over Sophie with all the warmth of air-con set to arctic. ‘New, are you? Where from?’
‘UK,’ Sophie said, keeping her voice friendly. ‘I’m travelling around for a bit.’
‘Another backpacker,’ Jennifer said to her mother, as if Sophie wasn’t standing right there. She was younger, maybe late thirties, with the same pinched expression. ‘How long is this one staying?’
‘As long as she wants to,’ Sassy said firmly. ‘She’s a great worker.’
‘Hmm,’ was all Margaret said, but the sound conveyed volumes of scepticism.
They took their time selecting their groceries, and Sophie noticed they were watching her the whole time, checking every move she made. When they finally came to the checkout, Jennifer made a point of checking the prices on every item as Sophie scanned them.
‘That’s gone up,’ she said, holding up a tin of tomatoes.
‘Everything’s gone up,’ Sassy said mildly. ‘Freight costs, you know.’
‘Easy to blame freight costs when you’re charging whatever you like,’ Margaret said. ‘No competition in town, is there?’
Sophie saw Sassy’s jaw tighten, but she kept her voice level. ‘You’re welcome to drive to Emerald, Margaret, if you want to compare prices. It’s only an hour and a half away.’
‘Might just do that,’ Margaret said.
After they left, Sassy let out a long breath. ‘Sorry about that, love. Don’t take it personally.’
‘Who are they?’ Sophie asked.
‘Margaret Thornton and her daughter Jennifer. Margaret’s husband used to own the hardware store, and she’s been on the town council for twenty-five years. Thinks she owns the place, and to be honest, she kind of does. Jennifer works part-time at the council office—town clerk or some such. They don’t like change, and they especially don’t like outsiders.’
‘But you’re not an outsider, are you?’ Sophie asked.
Sassy laughed, but it sounded tired. ‘I’ve been here thirty years, married to a local boy who’s now passed. But I wasn’t born here, so to some people like Margaret, I’ll always be from somewhere else. That’s just how small towns work sometimes.’
An hour later, a man in his forties came in, his work boots leaving dusty prints on the floor. He grabbed a few items quickly—bread, milk, a packet of Tim Tams—and came to the counter.
‘You’re new,’ he said, looking Sophie up and down in a way that made her skin crawl.
‘Started yesterday,’ Sophie said, keeping her tone professional and cool.
‘Pretty thing like you, what are you doing in a dump like Garnet Creek?’
‘Working,’ Sophie said flatly, scanning his items faster.
‘Bet I could show you some better entertainment than shelving groceries,’ he said, leaning on the counter.
‘She’s seventeen,’ Sassy lied smoothly from behind the stock shelves, appearing suddenly. ‘And I’m her aunt. So, you can just pay for your shopping and be on your way, thanks, Darren.’
Darren’s expression shifted. ‘Didn’t know—’
‘Course you didn’t. You never do. That’ll be eighteen fifty, thank you.’
He paid quickly and left, and Sophie let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.
‘Sorry,’ Sassy said. ‘Darren’s mostly harmless, but he’s got no filter and less sense. You alright?’
