The shop assistant suddenly grabbed my wrist and hissed, *»Runget out of here, now!»*
«I can’t take it anymore!» Antonia Tremayne’s voice trembled with fury. «Three years, Vera! Three years listening to that drunkard howling under my window! The constable just shrugssays he can’t do a thing unless the sod hurts someone proper.»
«Now, now, Toni,» Vera Winthrop adjusted her glasses, peering sympathetically over the rim. «Poor old Nigel’s just lost his way since Margaret passed. Hes grieving, thats all.»
«Grieving?» Antonia threw up her hands. «And what about the rest of us? My Emilys struggling in Leeds with two little ones, your blood pressures through the roofbut do we drink ourselves silly and scream under windows at three in the morning?»
Sophia Whitmore, silent until now, exhaled heavily. Every gathering in the courtyard of their weathered council block inevitably circled back to Nigels antics. Todays tea was no exception.
«Lets talk of something else,» she suggested, pouring steaming Earl Grey into chipped china cups. «Lovely weather, isnt it? First proper warm day of spring.»
«Quite right,» Vera agreed, accepting her cup gratefully. «Ever the voice of reason, Sophie. Hows young Peter getting on?»
«Oh, same as ever,» Sophia smiled. «Rang yesterday from Londonsome big project at work. Promises to visit for the bank holiday.»
«Well, thats something,» Antonia muttered, marginally soothed. «You shouldnt be on your own so much at your age. All that dust in the library cant be good»
«Nonsense,» Sophia waved her off. «Sixty-twos hardly ancient. Besides, I love that libraryits my life. As for being alone…» Her gaze drifted to the row of tulips pushing through cracked pavement. «Fifteen years since Edward passed. You get used to it.»
The conversation meanderedrising bread prices, dodgy knees, grandchildren. When the teapot ran dry, Sophia checked her watch.
«GoodnessI must pop to The Spar before supper. Heard theyve got basmati rice in, still at last weeks price.»
«Do,» Vera nodded, then lowered her voice. «But dont linger past dusk. That sergeant mentioned at the Neighbourhood Watchtheres some gang about, targeting shops.»
«Dont scare her!» Antonia tutted. «Sophies got more sense than to wander after dark.»
The Spar was the sort of place where Mrs. Higgins behind the till knew your tea preferences by heart. Sophia visited nearly dailymilk one day, biscuits the next.
The bell jingled as she entered. Only two customers: an elderly man at the meat counter and a young mother wrangling a toddler by the sweets.
«Afternoon, Mrs. Higgins,» Sophia called. «Any basmati left? The girls said its good this batch.»
«Just put it out, love,» the shopkeeper smiled. «Aisle three, bottom shelf.»
Sophia nodded, selecting two packets. As she browsed tinned soups, she noticed the air shiftMrs. Higgins chatter with the old man cut short. Her knuckles whitened around the till.
The bell chimed again. Two men entered. The taller one, wearing a flat cap pulled low, scanned the room. The shorter, with dead eyes, leaned against the exit.
Sophia frowned but kept browsing. Then
«Find everything alright?» Mrs. Higgins materialized beside her, grip vise-like on Sophias elbow. Her whisper was razor-sharp: *»Run. Back storage doornow. These blokes robbed the Co-op yesterday. Hurt two cashiers.»*
Sophia froze*Broad daylight? In our sleepy Spar?*but the terror in the womans eyes brooked no argument.
«Just looking, thanks,» she replied loudly, then under her breath: *»What about you? The others?»*
«Hit the panic button. Police wont come quick enough. *Go.*»
A shove toward the STAFF ONLY door. Heart hammering, Sophia slipped through as the taller man turned.
The stockroom stank of cardboard and bleach. A muffled *BANG*glass shattering?then a scream. She fumbled for the rusted backdoor handle.
Constable Harris nearly tripped over her on the precinct steps.
«Theyre robbing The SparMrs. Higgins saidgas pistol»
His radio crackled: *»All units, armed robbery in progress»*
Three patrol cars screeched past. Ten agonizing minutes later, Harris returned, wiping sweat from his brow.
«Caught one in the act, the other down an alley. No one hurtjust some shouting and a ceiling tile needing replacement.»
Sophias knees buckled. «Mrs. Higgins?»
«Brave as a lion. Gave her statement cool as you please.» He handed over Sophias abandoned shopping trolley. «You did right, coming straight here.»
That evening, Peter called. She didnt mention the robberyno need to worry himbut when he asked after her Easter plans, something loosened in her chest.
«Actually, darling… could you visit? Ive been thinkingperhaps I ought to get out more. Library, home, shops… its no life, really.»
A pause. «Mum… you alright? You sound different.»
She watched dusk paint the council flats gold. «Just realised something, love. You never know whats round the corner. Today its rice. Tomorrow?» She touched the windowpane, cool against her fingertips. «Could be anything.»
Next morning, The Spars new security guard nodded as she entered. Mrs. Higgins rushed over, crushing her in a lavender-scented hug.
«Thank Christ youre alright! That rice still waiting for you, by the way.»
Sophia laughed, throat tight. «Keep it. Ill take shortbread tooPeters coming home.»
Life settledbut differently, somehow. As if the world had tilted just enough to reveal its hidden teeth. And in the quiet moments, Sophiad catch herself listening for footsteps behind her, remembering how ordinary afternoons could fracture with four whispered words:
*Runget out of here, now. She started taking different routes home, varying her steps like a secret code only she knew. The library still welcomed her each morning, its familiar dust and silence a balm, yet she no longer sat with her back to the door.
At night, she left the porch light on, a small defiance against the dark.
And when Nigel howled again beneath Antonias window one restless evening, Sophia didnt sigh or turn away. She stepped outside, wrapped in her woolen cardigan, and called up gently, Come have tea, Nigel. Youre not alone, you know.
He blinked, startled, then shuffled down with a mumbled thanks.
The next morning, the tulips by the pavement seemed brighter, as if even the cracks in the world could bloom.
