The shop assistant suddenly grabbed my arm and whispered, «Get out of here, quick!»
«I cant take it anymore! Three years, Margaret, three years Ive listened to his drunken ramblings under my window!» Susans voice trembled with anger. «The constable just shrugs. Says he cant do anything until that drunkard actually hurts someone!»
«Susan, youre exaggerating,» Margaret adjusted her glasses and gave her neighbour a sympathetic look. «Williams just a broken man. He hasnt been the same since his wife passed.»
«Broken?» Susan threw her hands up. «And what about the rest of us? My Emilys struggling alone with two kids up in Manchester, youve got your blood pressure to worry aboutyet we dont go shouting under peoples windows at three in the morning!»
Eleanor, whod been quietly listening to the argument, sighed deeply. Every time the neighbours gathered in the courtyard of their old block of flats, the conversation always circled back to Williams antics. Todays tea was no exception.
«Lets talk about something else,» she suggested, pouring the tea. «Lovely weather today, isnt it? First properly warm day of spring.»
«Quite right,» Margaret agreed, gratefully taking her cup. «Youre always the voice of reason, Eleanor. Hows young Thomas getting on?»
«Oh, same as ever,» Eleanor smiled. «Called yesterday from Londonsays hes finishing up some big project. Promised to visit over the bank holiday.»
«Well, thats something,» Susan nodded, calming slightly. «You shouldnt be working so much at your age. All that dust in that library of yours…»
«Oh, stop it, Susan,» Eleanor waved her off. «Sixty-two isnt ancient. Besides, I love that libraryits my life. And as for loneliness…» She gazed into the distance. «Ive grown used to it. Its been fifteen years since Edward passed.»
The conversation settled into safer topicsrising prices, health woes, children and grandchildren. When the teapot was empty, Eleanor checked her watch.
«Blimey, Id better dash! Need to pop into The Glow before dinner. Heard theyve got good porridge oats in, still at the old price.»
«Do go,» Margaret urged. «Just dont stay out too late. The constable said theres been some trouble round here after darksome gang on the loose.»
«Dont scare her,» Susan cut in. «Eleanors got her head screwed on. She wont go wandering about in the dark.»
After saying her goodbyes, Eleanor headed home to change. Their neighbourhood wasnt the safestoutskirts of a small town, weathered flats, dimly lit streetsbut in broad daylight? And The Glow was only five minutes away.
Switching to more comfortable shoes and grabbing her wheeled shopping bag, she stepped outside. The spring sun was gentle, the first blades of grass peeking through the flowerbeds. «The lilacs will bloom soon,» she thought, remembering how much shed loved their scent as a girl.
‘The Glow’ was the kind of old-fashioned corner shop where the staff knew every customer by name. Eleanor visited nearly every day after workbread one day, milk the next, oats when they were in.
The bell tinkled as she entered. The shop was quietjust an elderly man at the deli counter and a young mother with a toddler by the sweets.
«Afternoon, Patricia,» Eleanor greeted the plump, fifty-something shopkeeper. «Those oats in yet? The girls said its a good batch.»
«Hello, Eleanor! Yes, just stocked them. Aisle three, bottom shelf.»
Nodding, Eleanor made her way over. Sure enough, tidy packets of oats sat at a decent price. She grabbed two, then browsed the other shelves.
But then she noticed itthe air in the shop had shifted. Patricia, usually so chatty, had gone abruptly quiet mid-sentence with the elderly man. Her face was tense, eyes darting nervously.
The bell rang again. Two men walked in. The first, tall and thin with a cap pulled low, scanned the room quickly. The second, shorter with a cold, blank stare, positioned himself by the doorblocking it, it seemed.
Eleanor hardly paid them any mind. Shops had all sorts of customers. She turned back to the tinned goods, debating whether to get tomato sardinesThomas liked those when he visited.
Then she felt someone far too close. Turning, she found Patricia right beside her, face chalk-white.
«Need help finding anything?» Patricia asked loudlythen grabbed Eleanors wrist and hissed in her ear, «Run. Now. Through the stockroom, out the back. Theyre robbershit a shop down the road yesterday. Two women ended up in hospital.»
Eleanor froze. «Ridiculous,» she thought. «Broad daylight? In our quiet Glow?» But the terror in Patricias eyes was real.
«No, thank you, Im fine,» Eleanor replied brightlythen whispered, «What about you? The others?»
«Hit the panic button,» Patricia murmured. «But the police wont get here fast enough. Gothey havent spotted you. The mum and kid should be safe. Just go!»
With a slight nudge, she steered Eleanor toward an unmarked staff door.
Heart hammering, Eleanor slipped through when the men werent looking. The stockroom was cramped, boxes stacked high. «Maybe a mistake?» she wondered. But instinct screamed, «Move!»
Edging past crates, she reached a weathered back door. It stuck at firstthen opened with a screech that sounded deafening in the silence.
Cool air hit her face. Now what? Home? But what if they saw her? Call the police? Her phone was in her bagstill by the counter.
Then it clicked. The community police post was two streets overConstable James usually manned it.
Half-walking, half-running, she hurried there. What would she even say? Would they believe her?
At the post, she nearly collided with Constable Jamesa heavyset man in his forties, locking up.
«Constable! The Glowits being robbed! Patricia said she hit the panic button, but»
His expression darkened. «When?»
«Just now! Patricia helped me escape through the back. Two menone tall in a cap, the other younger, dead-eyed.»
He yanked out his radio. «Dispatch, Code Three! Armed robbery in progress at The Glow, High Street. Immediate response needed!»
Turning back, he ordered, «Stay here. Dont move.» Then he was off, surprisingly swift for his build.
Eleanor sank onto a bench, shaking. What had happened to Patricia? The mother and child? That loud pophad it been a gun?
Sirens wailed soon after. Two police cars raced past. Time crawled.
Finally, Constable James returned, grim but calmer.
«Well?» Eleanor rushed to him. «Is everyone?»
«All safe,» he nodded. «Got both suspectsone in the shop, the other down an alley. The pop?»
«A gun?»
«Gas pistol. Fired at the ceiling to scare folks. Patricia kept her head. So did youcoming straight here was smart.»
«Patriciashes alright?»
«Shaken, but fine. Giving her statement now. Ahyour bag.» He handed over her wheeled shopper. «Check if everythings there.»
Her purse, keys, phoneall present.
«Come inside,» he said. «Need your statement. Then Ill walk you home. You could use a cuppa and a sit-down.»
At the post, Eleanor recounted everythingthe men, Patricias warning, her escape. Saying it aloud steadied her, as if reliving it safely dulled the fear.
«Who were they?» she asked afterward. «Howd Patricia recognise them?»
«From our alerts,» the constable explained. «Third shop theyve hit this week. Bold as brasswalk in like customers, then pull weapons, clear the till, rob shoppers. Last time, a clerk fought backgot knocked about. Still in hospital.»
«Good Lord,» Eleanor murmured. «And here I thought our little town was safe.»
«Times changing,» he sighed. «But thanks to you and Patricia, no one was hurt today. That lot wont trouble anyone for a good while.»
Once the paperwork was done, Constable James walked her home. At the flats, Susan came rushing over.
«Eleanor! Saw the police speeding to The Glow! What happened?»
«All sorted, Susan,» the constable assured. «Robbers caught, no serious harm done. And Eleanor heres a proper heroinehelped nab them.»
«Heroine my foot,» Eleanor flushed. «Patricias the brave one. If not for her»
Back home, strong tea with honey and a drop of valerian steadied her nerves. The day felt surreal, like itd happened to someone else. A librarian of thirty years, a widow, a mothersuddenly in the middle of a crime drama!
That evening, Thomas called. Asked after her health, her work, chatted about his projects. She didnt mention the robberyno need to worry him. But when he mentioned the bank holiday, she surprised herself.
«Tom, loveyou will come visit, wont you? Its been too long. And… I think I ought to get out more. Stuck in this flat, just work-home-shop. Ill go batty otherwise.»
«Course Ill come, Mum,» he said, puzzled. «You alright? You sound… different.»
«Just realised something,» she smiled, gazing at the twilight outside. «Lifes unpredictable, Tom. You never know whats round the corner. Today youre buying oatstomorrow? Anything could happen.»
Next day, Eleanor returned to The Glow. Business as usual, though a young security guard now stood by the tilla new addition post-robbery.
Patricia spotted her, rushed out from behind the counter, and hugged her tight.
«Thank you! Who knows how it wouldve ended if you hadnt»
«Me? You saved us, Patricia. Everyone.»
«Dont be daft,» Patricia waved her off. «Just did what anyone would. Ohyour oats never got paid for. Still want em?»
«Absolutely,» Eleanor grinned. «And something nice for tea. My Toms visiting for the bank holiday.»
Life settled back into its rhythmyet something had shifted. Maybe it was the quiet confidence Eleanor now carried. Or the knowledge that even the most ordinary day could turn extraordinary in an instant. Or simply the understanding of how precious each uneventful moment truly wasbecause all it took to shatter the calm were six whispered words:
«Get out of here, quick. «Get out of here, quick.» The words echoed in her mind as she stood at the corner of her bedroom, pulling back the curtain just enough to see the dim streetlamp glow on the pavement. A bottle shattered somewhere down the alley. She froze, heart quickeningbut then exhaled slowly as a familiar voice, slurred but harmless, carried on the breeze. William, again. Just William. She let the curtain fall. Tomorrow, shed speak to the housing officer. Not for herselffor all of them. But tonight, she turned on the kettle, poured a cup, and sat by the window with her book, listening not for danger, but for the fragile, ordinary hum of life going on.
