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‘Stick it all in your wee backpack,’ Aiden instructs. ‘You’ll no’ want them seeing those in Blacks.’
I recognise Blacks from when I looked longingly at the tents this morning. Time has stretched something stupid today.
‘Right,’ says Aiden, pulling me round the corner from the shop. ‘There’s where we get you a sleeping bag.’
‘Aiden, I’ve got like £6 left.’
‘You go in, talk to the geezer about the sleeping bags; you want a lot of detail, right? Togs, all weathers, weights. You’re a tourist with money to spend. That’s all you’ve got to do. Keep them talking. You could mention the old HRH?’
‘HRH?’
‘Duke of Edinburgh? You can’t decide which one to buy. You um and you ah until you see me away and still you keep on for another minute. Then you say you need to think about it, what time do they close. Walk out slow. I’ll see you back at the river just over the bridge.’
‘But, what if…?’ I can’t even stammer out the fear, the Scotch broth repeating on me.
‘You want to be cold tonight? Your bit’s easy. Away with you.’ He pushes me back towards the shop.
I feel a cold sweat down my spine as I head towards the sleeping bags. Instinctively I start with the cheaper ones, though there’s nothing under £50. Then I remember I’m supposed to be loaded so I shake my head and move up to the posh ones. I make a show of fingering the various bags, pulling out the labels and pretending to read them. I cast a nervous glance about, see Aiden come in and start looking at the tents. My heart pounds as he gives me a quick nod to get on with it.
‘Excuse me,’ I corner the young female assistant. ‘Could you help me with the sleeping bags, please?’ It’s my best middle-class English but immediately I’m worried it sounds over the top.
‘Sure,’ she seems convinced. ‘What kind of price are you looking at?’
‘Oh,’ I stumble. ‘Erm, I want one for all weathers, you know? But I can’t work out the symbols on the labels.’ I pull my stupid-me smile – standard fall-back position.
She leads me to the top end of the range. ‘Here’s a popular three-season bag. Down filled, which gives it a wide comfort range…?’
‘Sorry,’ I have to force myself to hear what she’s saying. ‘Comfort range?’
‘Warm enough for those cold autumn nights, but not too hot in the summer?’ She rubs the fabric.
‘Ah, yes,’ I scour my empty brain for more to say. ‘Er, not winter, then?’
‘It has a water repellent shell, so good for wet conditions. But probably not for extreme cold. Can I ask what you’d be using it for?’
‘Well, you know, I’m planning on taking my Duke of Edinburgh Award,’ I say. ‘Gold?’ I add for good measure though I only did the bronze in Year 9.
‘So, you’ll be wanting something more like this from our Starlight range.’ She moves me up the line, and I resist the urge to look around for Aiden. ‘This is filled with Polarloft, with an excellent warmth-to-weight ratio.’
‘Warmth to weight ratio,’ I nod.
‘It’s important for challenge expeditions, when you have to carry all your gear.’ She explains, like she knows I haven’t a clue.
‘How much do you want for this one, then?’
‘It’s retailing at £150, but we might do a discount for the D of E.’ She pulls a hand-held device from her pocket. ‘Just let me to check that for you?’
I don’t know if I’ve done enough, if Aiden’s still in here. We’re standing with our backs to the door, so I turn for a quick look and catch a glimpse of Aiden as he grabs one of the cheaper bags and sidles to the door. The guy on the till is busy but my assistant notices me looking and turns just as Aiden’s making his exit.
‘Hey!’ she calls, and immediately the till guy is legging it after Aiden.
‘Who was that kid?’ My assistant glares at me.
‘What kid?’
‘I think you know.’ She stabs her finger towards my face.
I feel the blood pound in my head. They don’t need no lie detector. The guy from the till comes back in, red faced and breathless.
