running and her jacket was pulled over her head against the downpour.
âI thought you were supposed to have a headache,â Ella said.
âI have,â Jo said.
âWhy did you come out then?â
âBecause I had no idea where any of you were,â Jo said.
âYou knew I was here.â
âI hoped you would be but I didnât
know.
You could have left a note. And how stupid was it to bring Annie with you? Youâve never done that before,â Jo said.
âYou werenât awake,â Ella said. âAnd Rob had gone out.â
Jo didnât reply. All they could hear was the rain striking the lean-to â loud as beads on a tin plate.
âAnd look at Annie,â Jo said.
Annieâs hair was clinging to her head in damp stripes, making her ears stick out, but she was laughing. She looked fine. A bit of water never did anyone any harm. Jo took her into the kitchen to rub her down.
While she was gone a man appeared at the window jumping from one foot to the other in a kind of dance and miming to be let in. Rain was cascading from the gutter and splashing on to the ground below. Ella ignored him.
âWhy doesnât he just come in?â Jo said when she came back.
Ella shrugged her shoulders. âSome nutter,â she said.
Jo went over to the door. âItâs locked,â she said. âDid you lock it?â
âCould have done.â
âWhy?â
âYou said you didnât trust me. Obviously I canât be left on my own here.â
Actually, she hadnât done. Her mum had banged the door so hard behind her it had locked itself. It did that sometimes.
Jo took a deep breath and turned the open/closed sign round before unlocking again. The man came in, smiled at them, said he wouldnât get in the way, and started to wander round the shop. He was skinny and medium tall, wearing jeans and an old black coat with a funny-looking woven bag slung over his shoulder. His eyes drooped slightly at the corners which made him look nervous and pleased with himself at the same time. Jo went through the usual routine â unlocking the cash box, doing Trevorâs washing up from the day before, sniffing the milk to see if it was off â though everything she did was louder than usual. Ella knew she wanted to carry on quarrelling but she behaved herself because a stranger was there, watching.
âNice jug,â the man said.
He was at the back of the room, over by the stairs. He was holding out the jug, trying to line it up to catch drips that were coming through the ceiling. It was quite ugly â bright yellow with a kingfisher as a handle. They hadnât noticed the drips. Jo said that if he wanted to buy the jug he would have to look round and find something else to put under the leak. After a few minutes he said that it wasnât rain coming in. Jo said she knew it wasnât â there was a bathroom up there, not the roof. The whole place was falling apart. He said, sorry, he only knew because the places he lived in always seemed to end up under water. Heâd learned to recognise the different types. Leaking water had got a particular smell, hadnât it? A stale, plumbing smell. You walked in and knew straight away. He didnât like the sound either; he had to talk himself into it. Sometimes he took a lot of persuading when water was gushing out like Niagara Falls or he was paddling round like a granny at the seaside.
He was one of those people who never shut up. But Annie was fascinated and kept staring at him. He noticed her staring.
âTigers donât understand water, do they,â he said to her. âThey donât appreciate its good points. I suppose thatâs why your tigerâs stopped in today.â
âI donât have a tiger,â Annie said.
âThis is what they particularly enjoy,â he said.
He positioned the jug on the floor, knelt down beside her and moved his thumb in a
âI thought you were supposed to have a headache,â Ella said.
âI have,â Jo said.
âWhy did you come out then?â
âBecause I had no idea where any of you were,â Jo said.
âYou knew I was here.â
âI hoped you would be but I didnât
know.
You could have left a note. And how stupid was it to bring Annie with you? Youâve never done that before,â Jo said.
âYou werenât awake,â Ella said. âAnd Rob had gone out.â
Jo didnât reply. All they could hear was the rain striking the lean-to â loud as beads on a tin plate.
âAnd look at Annie,â Jo said.
Annieâs hair was clinging to her head in damp stripes, making her ears stick out, but she was laughing. She looked fine. A bit of water never did anyone any harm. Jo took her into the kitchen to rub her down.
While she was gone a man appeared at the window jumping from one foot to the other in a kind of dance and miming to be let in. Rain was cascading from the gutter and splashing on to the ground below. Ella ignored him.
âWhy doesnât he just come in?â Jo said when she came back.
Ella shrugged her shoulders. âSome nutter,â she said.
Jo went over to the door. âItâs locked,â she said. âDid you lock it?â
âCould have done.â
âWhy?â
âYou said you didnât trust me. Obviously I canât be left on my own here.â
Actually, she hadnât done. Her mum had banged the door so hard behind her it had locked itself. It did that sometimes.
Jo took a deep breath and turned the open/closed sign round before unlocking again. The man came in, smiled at them, said he wouldnât get in the way, and started to wander round the shop. He was skinny and medium tall, wearing jeans and an old black coat with a funny-looking woven bag slung over his shoulder. His eyes drooped slightly at the corners which made him look nervous and pleased with himself at the same time. Jo went through the usual routine â unlocking the cash box, doing Trevorâs washing up from the day before, sniffing the milk to see if it was off â though everything she did was louder than usual. Ella knew she wanted to carry on quarrelling but she behaved herself because a stranger was there, watching.
âNice jug,â the man said.
He was at the back of the room, over by the stairs. He was holding out the jug, trying to line it up to catch drips that were coming through the ceiling. It was quite ugly â bright yellow with a kingfisher as a handle. They hadnât noticed the drips. Jo said that if he wanted to buy the jug he would have to look round and find something else to put under the leak. After a few minutes he said that it wasnât rain coming in. Jo said she knew it wasnât â there was a bathroom up there, not the roof. The whole place was falling apart. He said, sorry, he only knew because the places he lived in always seemed to end up under water. Heâd learned to recognise the different types. Leaking water had got a particular smell, hadnât it? A stale, plumbing smell. You walked in and knew straight away. He didnât like the sound either; he had to talk himself into it. Sometimes he took a lot of persuading when water was gushing out like Niagara Falls or he was paddling round like a granny at the seaside.
He was one of those people who never shut up. But Annie was fascinated and kept staring at him. He noticed her staring.
âTigers donât understand water, do they,â he said to her. âThey donât appreciate its good points. I suppose thatâs why your tigerâs stopped in today.â
âI donât have a tiger,â Annie said.
âThis is what they particularly enjoy,â he said.
He positioned the jug on the floor, knelt down beside her and moved his thumb in a
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