Ron's in training, it turns out.
There's a sign above his window "Staff in
Training, Please be Patient".
Dawn doesn't look that patient. Ron's studying a form in front of him and wondering what he has to do.
- In that
box, says Dawn, there – write it in…
- Write what in? says Ron
- The total amount, for Pete’s… . Then the code number in that one.
- Code number?
- Our identifier.
- Oh, yes, right.
Ron has a small tattoo on his left hand, just
by his thumb – it just says “Ron”.
Timothy is running in circles behind him. Ron moves off to file the form somewhere and Timothy spots me at the window. He runs up to the counter and out of view. I prepare for the jumping to start but Timothy evidently has second thoughts and he reappears, continuing his circuit. He has his muzzle on - maybe there’s been too much jumping already today.
Doreen calls me over as her customer leaves.
-
Hello, lovey.
- Hello, Doreen. A bit of banking and some change today.
She’s been chatting with Ron.
- So you don’t fancy being Father Christmas for
the centre kids, then Ron?
- No, I bloody don’t!
- Why not? she says, with a sly look at
me. You’d make a fabulous Santa! Wouldn’t he, Dawn!
- Oh yes, I’m sure, says Dawn. I need a brew. Cup of builder’s, Ron?
- What?
-
Builder’s tea. Tetley.
Jeez, do you want a cup of tea, Ron?
- Oh, right, er, yes go on then. Oh… Or will, I?
- Dor?
Doreen’s up by the change drawer now hunting
out packs of fifty pences.
-
Very Berry
- Beri-beri?
- Very Berry
- Oh, Very
Berry!
- Very Berry
- Right, a Very Berry. I thought you said Beri-beri
Ron’s worked it out now.
-
No, actually I won’t on this occasion, thanks
Dawn. I’ll not this time.
- You don’t want a Very Berry then, Ron? says Doreen
Dawn prods her with a sharpened finger.
- Ow!
- A what?
says Ron
- Never mind, says Dawn, and she bowls off to
put the kettle on.
The kitchen door
swings shut behind her leaving Timothy stranded on this side of it. He continues to run his short circuits,
pausing by the door every time to see if Dawn is coming through.
- Oh no!
says Doreen
- What’s the matter? I ask
- I’ve only gone and dropped the printout. You like them stapled in don’t you.
- Well we do, normally, but don’t worry.
- No, no, it’s no bother. We’ve got a picker.
- A what?
- Here Ron, pass me the picker.
Ron goes to the far side by the scales and clatters
something out from behind a metal cupboard.
While he’s away Doreen moves her stool and a waste paper basket out
from her corner by the wall.
- Thank you , lovey, she says as Ron hands her
a metal litter picker.
- Useful, that, I remark.
- Well, I can't bend. On account of my... gorgeousness.
She runs her hands over her ample hips, winks at me again and starts fishing with the picker.
- Ohw, I’m getting nothing but wires down here,
she says
Little beads of sweat have broken out across
her nose. She reaches over again right by the radiator.
- I’ll have to strip off in a minute. No, hang on! … Ah, there we are!
She raises the jaws of the litter picker and
holds up the missing slip of paper like a trophy.
- Ta-daah!
There you go, young man.
- Marvellous, I say, I love it when you call me
that!
Doreen staples the printout to the stub in the
paying in book and pushes the whole thing under the glass.
- Please call again!
-
Oh, I will, I say. I head for the door.
Dawn returns with two mugs.
- I’ve had one too, she says.
- What, says Doreen
- A Very Berry
- You’ll love it! says Doreen.
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