‘We don’t know if this has anything to do with Alexa’s mental state. Otis could be a narcissist. It wouldn’t surprise me, with all that money. Besides, whenever someone steps out on their marriage, there’s always more to it.’
‘Well, I think I’ve got the scoop on that. Want to hear?’
Intrigued, I busy myself searching the range of apples on display.
‘Mary, don’t be daft! Of course I want to know,’ the cashier squeals.
‘Rumour has it that Alexa was spotted a few weeks ago in Saddleforth looking cosy with a handsome man. A man who was most definitelynotOtis Clarke.’
My eyes widen, but my reaction is tame in comparison to the cashier’s audible gasp.
‘Who told you that?’ she cries.
‘Franny Henderson.’
‘Oh, well, if Franny said it then it must be true,’ the cashier scoffs, her disappointment palpable.
‘Say what you like, but Franny said she double-checked it was Alexa because it was such a shock to see her away from that horrible house.’
‘Come on, Mary. You know as well as I do that Franny is as accurate with the truth as the prime minister is.’
A bubble of laughter escapes me at the comment. The two women jump and turn to face me at the unexpected sound. Under their scrutiny, I burn with embarrassment.
‘I—’ I begin, but the cashier smiles warmly.
‘Don’t worry, love. I spend my day eavesdropping on customers’ conversations. It’s only fair you listen back.’ Suddenly, she narrows her eyes, then an even brighter smile overcomes her. ‘You’re the new woman, aren’t you? The writer?’
‘That’s me,’ I reply. ‘I’m Janine.’
‘Welcome! Although I suppose you’re not so new here anymore. Still, it’s lovely to finally meet you. We were all very excited to hear we had a famous author living in the village. Mary’s got all your books in paperback.’
‘I’ll have to get you to sign them,’ Mary chips in.
‘I’d love to,’ I reply, approaching the counter with an apple. When I set it down, I notice it’s bruised, but I daren’t swap it. The cashier, whose name badge reads Renee, takes the apple and weighs it.
‘I’m sorry you had to hear our gossiping,’ she says. ‘Although I’m sure you’ve heard all about what’s going on with Alexa Clarke.’
‘I have. It sounds very mysterious.’
Renee grimaces. ‘It does. Whatever the outcome is, I suspect it won’t be good.’
‘Especially now we know cheating is involved,’ Mary adds.
Renee shoots her a warning look. ‘IfFranny Henderson is telling the truth.’
‘I don’t think Franny would be wrong about something this important,’ Mary says, hoisting her shopping bags onto the crook of her arm. ‘I should go, but it was lovely to meet you, Janine. Or should I say, lovely to meet you, S. K. Atherton!’
When Mary leaves, I purchase my apple even though I need a single apple as much as I need a hole in the head. I pay by card and head for the door.
‘It was nice to chat, dear,’ Renee calls before I leave.
My lips twitch into what I hope comes across as a friendly smile before I dash outside. It’s only when I get back to my car that I realise I forgot to buy milk.
Sighing, I lean my head on the steering wheel and listen to the blood pound in my ears.
This level of distress makes no sense. Going to the shop shouldn’t be a big deal for someone who has been on stage in auditoriums that fit thousands, but somehow it feels like the hardest thing I could ever do. Sadness claws at me as, yet again, I’m reminded that I’ve lost part of myself.
I want to hate myself for it. In fact, most days I do. I should be stronger than this. Better. The person smiling on the back cover of her books, who people queue to meet. But I’m not. I’m a walking disappointment.