a glass of elderflower wine
I was perusing the New Titles laid out on a table in Waterstones when a man walked by me. I nodded, recognising the driver of a white Insignia from the top of our road. He smiled, no doubt thinking, the silver Golf from around the corner.
Soon afterwards a woman brushed past. ‘Alan, sorry—’
‘Gosh, fancy seeing you here,’ he said, in a loud voice. ‘What a surprise!’
I turned my back, picked up the latest Jo Jo Moyes, a volume of short stories, but still heard.
‘I didn’t know you shopped here?’
She’d obviously received the message. ‘No, usually … it’s my daughter’s birthday tomorrow, thought I’d get her a book token.’
As I moved away I saw them edging into the alcove headed, History - World History.
Having paid for my book, I sauntered towards the exit. I noticed my neighbour and his … friend, fingers entwined, bodies pressed against each other, engrossed in Local History.