Short Notice

 I wasn’t ready for it. 

‘Slow burn,’ said the consultant. ‘Slow-ish anyway. You’ve about twelve to eighteen months. Two years with a wind behind you.’

So, there’s no point in carrying on working in my greengrocers shop is there? I’ve spoken to my financial advisor who said my pension had done very well indeed. After charges, and with a bit of luck, I should get back most of what I’ve put in. I’ve decided to go and rent a place by the sea. I remember Heysham from my childhood. Just south of Morecambe. I’ve found a lovely static caravan, only a few minutes from the clubhouse. There’s net curtains on the windows facing the power station, isn’t that thoughtful?

Over the past year, Mandy and me have come to an arrangement. Now don’t get carried away, it’s all very professional and above board. I’m glad now that she rejected my advances. Yes, things would have been complicated, what with my recent bad news. Besides, she’s got her eye on George – he delivers some of our organic veg. Apparently, he has two allotments. Mandy says he’s knee-deep in curly kale.

                                                                                         ***

After I’d had time to digest what the doctor had to say, I got an estate agent in. I’m going to sell the shop and the upstairs flat – there’ll be enough to keep me going and some left over. I’ve always wanted to travel and there’s parts of Yorkshire I’ve never been to.

This bloke in his mid twenties turns up in an orange mini. Very slick. You know the type - wet look gel, grey shiny suit that’s slightly too small, light-tan winklepickers. Introduced himself as Estaban.

‘Are you from Spain?’ I was only making conversation.

‘Oh no,’ he said. ‘You see there’s two others in the office called Stephen but I’m the only one with a Spanish connection.’

‘Oh?’ I said.

‘It’s my aunty’ he smiled. ‘She has a timeshare in Fuengirola.’

Estaban looked around the flat making notes on his clipboard and taking photographs with his ‘phone. I’d already filled in a form describing the flat. One bedroom, shower room, living room that would give a swinging cat concussion and a kitchenette that could do with some cupboards. 

He cleared his throat. 

‘I have a degree in creative writing you know. How does this sound? 

A gorgeous penthouse apartment that’s all about the lifestyle. A bright, bijou sitting room opens on to a retro-style kitchen. From the ensuite double bedroom, a half-French door leads onto a compact roof terrace with far-reaching views.’ 

I was mystified.

‘Half French door? Do you mean the fire escape? It overlooks the recycling centre.’

Estaban shook his head and carried on.

‘The property has parking, superb communications and is close to local amenities…’ 

‘Estaban,’ I said.  ‘Are you sure about this? We’re on a main road and the flat’s over a greengrocers.’

He raised one eyebrow.  ‘As I was just saying, the property is close to local amenities including a 24 hour delicatessen and a restaurant.’

‘What!’ I said. ‘The food in the garage shop is older than me. And calling Bernard’s Butty Van a restaurant is a slight exaggeration, don’t you think?’

                                                                                       ***

 There was a flicker of sadness on Mandy’s face when I told her I was selling the greengrocers and why. I explained that I’d see her right and that seemed to cheer her up. I was pretty sure she wasn’t crying, mind you she did dab her eyes on her apron, smiled as if it was hurting her and went to fetch a bottle of Prossecco from the back room. 

 ‘To the future,’ she said, brandishing a half-pint glass. ‘Short and sweet or long and lingering, it’s all ahead of us.’ 

Half an hour later I heard her on the phone to George. 

‘He’s going to see me right. No more double digging for you my sweet potato, all your veg will be pre-packed from now on.’ 

I could hear her cackling, the way she does when George cracks one of his weary innuendos comparing his vegetables with various body parts.

‘Don’t you worry,’ she said, ‘I’ll butter him up alright, I’ll be sweetness and light. He must be worth a few bob you know.’

Well, I’ve got her number.

So, I’ve decided that any left over money will go to the local youth group. It’ll make a big difference around here.

You might be wondering, why? Why the youth group? The thing is, there’s not much around here for the teenagers and I went to a wonderful youth club - all Tamla Motown and secret stashes of Australian White Wine. 

As for Mandy, I’ve got just the thing for her. She polishes the ancient weighing scales as if they were her pride and joy. Well, eighteen months from now, they will be.