I probably should have told her off, but I was more shocked than cross.
I mean, that’s not my Charlotte.
I’m going to the counsellor tonight for myself and I’ll speak to her then.
For now, I have to get back to my list.
I actually enjoy my job. Okay, I don’t want to do it forever, but I’m enjoying it now. I like shopping when it’s for other people. There is no real pressure, you don't have to think what's for dinner and have I got eggs, or, but we had chicken last night and the night before… there’s none of that going through my head.
I just have to choose the best.
And I do.
There are regular customers that ask for me - or rather, they ring customer service and ask if the lady they had this week can do them from now on, but unfortunately, it doesn’t work like that.
I like the peek into other people's lives too.
I play a little game with myself with each list, I try to work the person out and then I check to see if I’m right at the end.
I never really got into the VAT on sanitary products debate, but I’m starting to now – this one I can’t work out, it must be for a school nurse, or someone who had female sextuplets 13 years ago and they all menstruate at the same time, but don’t like the same things.
There are tampons and pads with wings, thick ones, thin ones and pads without wings and night time pads (four packets). I wonder if I should add some iron vitamins as the free bonus. There’s half a trolley of chocolate, hot chocolate and chocolate biscuits – I choose her bonus present, because she’s spent (well) over a hundred pounds, as carefully as I would if I was choosing for myself.
School nurse, I’ve decided and I check to see if I’m right. But my shoulders sag when I see it’s Geraldine Field’s order (Brown Owl) and I realise she must be taking them camping.
Why didn’t I think of that?
But aren’t Brownies a bit young to be menstruating? Though I suppose Brown Owl, of all people, has to Be Prepared.
Maybe she’s taking the Guides camping?
Charlotte hasn’t got hers yet.
Maybe that’s it!
Maybe Charlotte’s hormonal.
Maybe that’s what’s wrong, I console myself and I get onto the next order.
Because something is wrong.
She’s not talking to me and last night she wet the bed and I just don’t know how best to deal with it.
I told her it wasn’t a problem, I told her it would sort and she told me she didn’t need any advice on bedwetting from a woman who shits herself.
Yes, she said that.
It was then that she told me to fuck off.
I’m at work now and I have to work, I can’t just fold up like I want to.
I just have to carry on.
This guy’s single – you can tell by what’s in the trolley.
Bread
Bacon
Coffee
Orange juice
Milk
Cornflakes
Frozen dinners x7
And so on, you can just tell.
Macadamia nuts
I know who this is.
I scroll through the list and there is the wine that he drinks and the deodorant he uses. I know, because I know his smell and I stand in the toiletry aisle and I squirt some into the air and I smell him again. I know that it’s Luke I’m shopping for; I don’t need to check his name.
But I do.
Jess was right.
He is out shagging for England.
Condoms X2. What the hell does he need two packets for? It’s a weekly shop!
I want to leave them off the list.
I want to ration them at least, so he only gets one packet.
I am not getting lube for him.
I AM NOT.
I look and he’s ticked the box, so I choose a suitable alternative.
Deep Heat!
If they pull me up about it, I’ll just act all innocent, I’ll tell them I thought lube was for massaging injuries.
It’s not just his favourite tipple either that he’s ordered. I put in his selection and I am savage as I add four bottles of chardonnay to his sex laden trolley– because I know he hates it.
Then it’s off to the home-wear section. I get to choose sheets for him, because he’s too lazy to wash them and probably wants nice clean sheets for his chardonnay drinking tart. I’ve just finished putting his order through when I hear my name.
‘Lucy…’ Yolanda comes over, we’ve become friends and try to get the same lunch breaks and we’re going to the pictures at the weekend. ‘You’ve got a phone