Rita found herself scanning the faces of the customers as they came through the entrance doors that Monday. On several occasions, she felt sure she saw Henry, only to have her heart sink when she realised it hadn’t been him at all. It had been almost ten past six and Rita had given up on Henry ever coming into the store again. She would never know what had happened to him and that made her sad. Her legs had felt tired and her eyes sore from lack of sleep. So, when Henry had walked in, Rita had barely noticed him. She’d been daydreaming when he’d approached.
‘Hello,’ he’d said, looking curiously at the samples on offer. Her heart had soared, surprising her with its intensity.
‘Hello,’ she’d said with a shake in her voice. ‘Are you well?’
‘I am,’
He’d given her one of his rare smiles. He’s so good looking, Rita had thought. She liked the way his eyes twinkled behind his glasses. She’d wondered what would make him smile more. She’d thought of asking why he hadn’t been into the store but then he’d know that she had missed him and that wouldn’t do.
‘Sorry I haven’t been into the store for a few days,’ he’d said, as if reading her mind.
‘I thought I hadn’t seen you,’ she’d said and then blushed.
‘I had some holiday to take.’
‘Oh, did you go anywhere nice?’
She’d pictured Henry in his shorts. He was definitely the type to wear cool canvas ones. Most likely crease free too. Rita often thought of taking a holiday. Somewhere where the sea stretched for miles and the sun scattered diamonds across its surface. But it wasn’t easy-going on holiday alone.
‘Isle of Wight,’ Henry had said with a smile. ‘It was scorching hot.’
Goodness, she’d thought, we’ve never talked so much.
‘Lovely,’ Rita had said and wondered why it was called the Isle of Wight. Was everything white there, perhaps?
‘My wife likes it there,’ Henry had said, smiling.
He’d finally mentioned her, and Rita had felt that she could have been standing right between them, so much was her presence felt.
‘I’ve never been to the Isle of Wight.’
‘I think you’d like it. It’s peaceful.’
‘Yes,’ she’d agreed.
He’d tried her sample then. Brussels sprout flavour crisps. They weren’t to everyone’s tastes, but Henry had liked them.
‘Interesting,’ he’d said, and Rita had smiled.
For once, she’d thought, Henry was quite right, they were indeed interesting. He’d stayed quite a while. They’d talked about the Isle of Wight, holidays and the best places to take them and finally he’d said,
‘I’m Henry by the way.’
‘I’m Rita.’
‘Lovely Rita Meter Maid,’ Henry had said.
Henry must have realised from her puzzled expression that she had no ideawhat he meant.
‘It’s a Beatles’ song,’ he’d explained. ‘It’s from Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band.’
‘Oh, I’ve not heard that one.’
Why was it, Rita had wondered, that whenever she told people her name, they compared her to a film, a song, or an actor? When she’d first told Billy her name was Rita, he’d said.
‘Like in Educating?’
Rita had blushed. ‘Yes,’ she’d said.
