Rory's Proposal (24 page)

Tom

‘
Oh Mr Rory, they never said it was yourself that was here. I thought …’ says Frank, jumping up from his seat, almost knocking over a mug of tea.

‘
Nothing to worry about Frank, you’re the best security officer we have,’ I smile. ‘Those Jaffa cakes look good.’

He gives a relieved smile in return.

‘You’re welcome to one,’ says Frank, offering the pack.

I take one and glance at the bank of CCTV displays.

‘I was just curious about the mouse incident earlier and would be grateful if you’d show me the CCTV playback?’

‘
Oh that were nothing, Mr Rory, just some kid’s toy that got dropped. Scared some of the old girls I can tell you,’ he laughs.

I smile.

‘I bet it did. I’m just curious to see what happened.’

‘
No problem. The tape is changed every hour. I’ll just get the one you need, won’t be a sec.’

I sit down in front of the video monitors and watch casually as I eat the Jaffa cake, and then I see her. I shake my head in disbelief. What on earth is she wearing? She looks like an accomplice for Johnny English in those shades. I can barely see her face but I
’d know that walk anywhere. She dives down the sweet aisle throwing in chocolate bars as she goes. This is Flo, without doubt. I find myself laughing aloud as she looks around before throwing marshmallows into her basket. Frank strolls in and glances at the camera.

‘
You see some funny ones on there don’t you,’ he says laughing with me.

‘
You sure do,’ I say, watching as Flo tries
the sample olives before throwing a carton into her basket. I smile. I never realised how much I missed her until now. If this is war I imagine peacetime with her is fun.

‘
So, here’s the tape from earlier. I’ve run it back to just before the mouse incident,’ he laughs.

I pull my eyes away from Flora and watch the video, and there she is, as clear as day with another woman. They couldn
’t look more suspicious if they tried.

‘
Oh these two were clowns. I was on the door when they came back,’ says Frank, looking closely at the monitor.

‘
Came back?’ I ask, watching Flora closely. She is fiddling with something in her pocket. That’s the mouse for sure.

‘
The whole mouse kerfuffle scared them so much they left without paying. They came back though. If only everyone was that honest, huh, Mr Rory?’

‘
Indeed,’ I say, watching as Flora lets something fall to the floor when taking some fish from another customer.

‘
There you go, that’s when the whole thing happened. Some kid’s toy it was. But they make them look so much like the real thing these days don’t they? Mayhem it was. But we made it very clear on a notice that it was a toy one. No worries there Mr Rory.’

I turn back to the camera and see that Flo
is now hurrying to the exit. I debate going down and speaking to her but change my mind.

‘
Thanks for that Frank,’ I say.

‘
Anything else I can help you with Mr Rory?’ he asks.

‘
Yes, I’d like to arrange a special delivery to a very loyal customer,’ I say, watching as Flo leaves the store.

‘
Of course, I’ll send Mick up. He arranges deliveries.’

I smile as Flo disappears from view. I rather think I
’m going to enjoy this war.

No matter how hard I try, I can
’t get Tom out of my head. It’s like his phone call has had some kind of hypnotic effect on me. I open the freezer and stare
into the empty drawers. The fridge isn’t much better either. Ever since I stopped online shopping, I’m forever out of food. I don’t have any bread. Honestly, who doesn’t have bread? I open the fridge again, as though something may have miraculously appeared in the few seconds since I closed it. I don’t even have a bottle of milk, bottles of wine yes, but no milk. I was in Rory’s too. No, don’t think about it, don’t think about it but how can I not think about it? I’m starving and no one would know if I popped in there for a loaf of bread and a tin of baked beans would they? Lois will be closed now and I debate going to the little shop up the road but everything in there always looks stale. I don’t want to drive to Aldi or Tesco. I open the cupboard and see I am down to my last Crunchie. Right, I can’t starve, that’s just ridiculous. I rummage in my tiny wardrobe
and find my rain mac with the hood. I slide into it, wrap a scarf around me to cover my mouth and don my sunglasses. I’d like to think I look like Audrey Hepburn but I’m under no illusions. I look more like an extra from
The Only Way Is Essex
.

It will take five minutes to dash around the store and if anyone questions the sunglasses I
’ll say the fluorescent lighting gives me migraines. I pull into Rory’s car park and scan the customers going in. I can’t see anyone I know. I pull up the hood and walk briskly into the store. I head for the bakery aisle and throw a loaf into my basket. The smell of the freshly baked rolls makes my mouth water and I throw a couple of those in too, followed by a doughnut. I hurry down the sweet aisle and grab a pack of Crunchies and a family size bag of marshmallows; I’ll have those with some wine tonight. I’m near the checkout when I remember cold meat for the rolls. I grab washing powder for the salon as they are on a two-for-one-offer, and head for the deli counter when I’m stopped by a lady standing by a snack promotion table.

‘
Madam, can I interest you in our range of olives?’

Oh no, not now.

‘Well …’ I mumble.

God I
’m so hungry I could scoff her entire display.

‘
Okay,’ I say, lowering the scarf so I can pop one into my mouth and then another and then one more.

‘
Lovely aren’t they?’ she smiles. ‘Try them with a slice of Psomi and some feta.’ She rolls her eyes in ecstasy.

‘
Psomi?’ I query.

‘
Greek bread.’

Oh no, that means going back to the bread counter. I grab a small carton of olives from her stand.

‘Thank you.’

I continue on to the deli and then I see her, my mum, her trolley overflowing with goods. She
’s wearing something that looks like a rainbow coloured burka. Okay, it’s a slight exaggeration, but you can’t see much of her face but I’d know my mother anywhere. Good God, it gets worse. How could she? After everything that was said at the meeting.

‘
What are you doing here?’ I say diving upon her and making her jump out of her skin.

‘
You scared the life out of me,’ she complains. ‘I thought you were one of Team Robson’s people.’

‘
I am one of Team Robson’s people. In fact I am Team Robson,’ I say irritably. ‘You’re not supposed to shop in here.’

She looks at my basket.

‘Nor are you,’ she hisses. ‘Why are you wearing sunglasses? You look like a spy.’

‘
I’m incognito,’ I say.

‘
Well I recognised you.’

‘
I’m your daughter.’

‘
Don’t remind me. You’ll be arrested going on like this. Why you can’t just find a nice man and …’

‘
I’m out of everything. I only came for essentials,’ I say, like somehow that makes everything okay.

‘
I never knew marshmallows and Crunchies were essentials,’ she retorts.

My mother knows nothing of life.

‘What are you wearing?’ I ask.

‘
My Infinity scarf,’ she says,
pulling it further forward on her head.

‘
At least I’m not doing my monthly shop,’ I say defensively. ‘It looks like you’re shopping for the whole of Notting Hill.’

‘
You can’t have a go at me if you’re here too.’

I suppose she has a point. Honestly, of all people it has to be my mother.

‘This has to be the last time,’ I whisper. ‘If anyone sees us we’ll lose all credibility.’

She nods seriously.

‘I’ll quickly get these things and then I’ll get your father to take me to Waitrose. It’s a bit further out and doesn’t have the offers that Rory’s …’

‘
Mother,’ I hiss.

‘
Sorry,’ she mumbles. ‘I’ll phone you later.’

I nod.

‘I’m off,’ I say. ‘I’ve just got to grab some baked beans.’

She rummages through her trolley.

‘Here,’ she hands me a pack of four tins. ‘Special offer so you might …’

I roll my eyes but take them anyway.

‘Ooh there’s Mrs Wallace from the off-licence,’ she says pulling her scarf so low I can barely see her eyes.

‘
I’m off,’ I say again, wrapping my scarf over my face. I’m sure the only thing on show is my sunglasses. I dash along the dairy section and remember I need milk. I see the feta cheese and chuck some in, to go with the olives and deliberate for a few seconds and dash back to the bread aisle and throw in a Psomi. I then fly along the biscuits throwing in chocolate digestives as I go. I feel like a contestant in
Supermarket Sweep
. I reach the self-service checkout, scan my goods and pay as fast as I can before heading for the exit doors. I’m in my car and on my way home before you can say
Team Robson
. If Sandy even gets a whisper of this I’ll be dead.

Thirty minutes later with my beans bubbling nicely on the hob, I check the wine in the fridge. Not that I
’m an expert on wine mind you. I had so little of it when with Luke that I didn’t have a chance to study it, so I wouldn’t know a £3.50 bottle from a £35 one. Considering they were all from my friends I doubt they cost more than a fiver to be honest. I open a Sauvignon Blanc and flop onto the couch with the glass in my hand. All I can think of is Thomas Rory. Of course it doesn’t help that no sooner had I spoken to him than I was diving into his shop and now, no doubt, the
Sauvignon Blanc I’m drinking is one Mum bought in his party offer. Not to mention the fact that my dinner comprises Rory’s bread and Rory’s special offer baked beans, with a side dish of olives and feta cheese, followed by a ‘made on the premises’ doughnut. I lean back and pull my laptop onto the couch beside me. At least I didn’t use my loyalty card. That would have been the ultimate wouldn’t it? I turn on the laptop. I’m just about to tuck in to my beans on toast when the doorbell rings. I push my eye against the peephole and see Tony, the Rory’s delivery guy. What can he want? I strain to see if anyone else is with him. Perhaps he wants to defect. What am I thinking? I’m worse than Ryan. I open the door cautiously and peer through the gap.

‘
Miss Robson?’ he asks, trying to catch my eye through the slit.

‘
I could be,’ I say, thinking that is the best way not to incriminate myself.

‘
I’ve got your Rory’s delivery. Where do you want it?’

Is he mad? I
’m not long back after tearing around the supermarket looking like a poor man’s Mata Hari. I’m not going to be so stupid as to order online now am I?

‘
I think you have the wrong flat,’ I say, slowly closing the door. ‘I don’t shop at Rory’s.’

He steps back and checks the number on my door.

‘No, this is the right flat. Miss Robson, flat 6, basement. I got a box for you, where do you want it?

A box?
Doesn’t he mean
bag
?

‘
I don’t know anything about this,’ I say.

‘You ordered it
,’ says Tony. ‘I only deliver.’

Ever had that feeling of déjà vu?

‘But a box,’ I say. ‘I’d have remembered ordering a box.’

‘
I don’t make the rules,’ he says. ‘If you don’t want it I can take it back.’

I open the door wider to see if it is some kind of joke of my mother
’s. Any second now she’ll jump out and shout,
got you
, but I quickly dismiss the idea as crazy. My mum doesn’t get jokes let alone play them on people. Tony huffs his way from the van with the box. What the …?

‘
There you go,’ he says.

We
give the box a puzzled look.

‘
I just deliver,’ says Tony before I can say anything. ‘That’s everything, no substitutions.’

‘
What is it?’ I ask.

He looks at me oddly.

‘If you don’t know I’m sure I don’t. I only deliver. You’ve got 750 loyalty points,’ he says, eyes widening.

I
’ve never got that many loyalty points in one go ever.

‘
How many?’

He checks his machine, clicking a button here and another there. Finally he looks up.

‘You have 750 for today’s purchase. I’ve scanned it onto your account. We have these new little machines now. Scans your loyalty points straight on without even needing your card and it …’

‘
Right, thank you. I’ll just check how many gold bars are in the box,’ I say, before closing the door.

Loyalty points for a delivery I haven
’t ordered. It’s got to be a mistake. I must have someone else’s order. I eat my beans on toast while studying the box. Finally, after the last bean, I stand up, place my plate in the sink and then swallow half a glass of wine for courage. I rip the lid off the box and remove a layer of tissue.

I gasp. It
’s a full round of Gorgonzola, and it stinks to high heaven. What the …? Why would Rory’s send me a load of cheese? It makes no sense. I pick up the glass of wine and swallow some, my thoughts on Tom Rory, when the penny drops. Oh shit.
Cheese for a mouse
. He knows I’m behind the mouse prank. He’s sent me the Gorgonzola and he’s given me 750 loyalty points too. The memory of my illicit desserts at the Jacksons’ come back to me …

‘
Yes please as long as it’s not Gorgonzola. That smells like a pig farmer’s bunion. I hate it.’

The little sod, he
’s winding me up while looking good at the same time. I can’t very well complain to the papers about how Thomas Rory is playing dirty by sending me a whole cheese and rewarding me with loyalty points can I? I shove the box behind the couch and pour myself more wine. Time to show Thomas Rory two can play at this game.

I click into Twitter, and study the
fightwithflora
page. We have twenty new followers. I check who they are and see five are local shop owners in Portobello Road and two are market stall holders. I follow them all, toss back some Sauvignon Blanc, type Thomas Rory into the search box and there he is. My heart flips and I drain my glass before clicking into his profile. I stare at his profile pic for what seems like an eternity. He’s smiling and there is that twinkle in his eyes that I know so well. I tear myself away to grab the wine. I quickly top up my glass and then go back to the profile. I drag my eyes from his photo and read the info.

Thomas Rory

CEO of Rory’s Supermarkets

The stink of the cheese reaches my nostrils and I kick it further under the couch. I pop open the bag of marshmallows and separate the pink from the white while studying Tom’s profile. My hand hovers over the follow button but I can’t bring myself to do it. I shake my head irritably and wander to the loo. When I return to the living room the stink of Gorgonzola almost knocks me out. I throw back some wine and look at Tom’s photo for a bit longer before I notice I have three notifications. I reluctantly pull myself away from the photo. One is an encouraging tweet from Mr Pinlan Wong in China.

@fightwithflora good luck with the revolution! We will support you. One for all and all for one.

Crikey I hope we don’t have the whole of Chinatown at the protest. I retweet and click back into Tom’s profile. I’m drooling over his photo when another notification pops up:
Thomas Rory is now following you on Twitter.
Oh my God. I feel like I can’t breathe. It’s like he knows I am watching him. I’m about to click back into his profile when another notification pops up. I hold my breath and click into it.

@
fightwithflora
how are you tonight Flo?