✅ My Cousin's Keeper [NaNoWriMo 2021]

101. My Inside Knowledge

Author's Note: Sorry it's a little late! Visiting Mum this week; going to be staying at a cottage in Darlington next week. And I realised as soon as I got here that I don't have my laptop charger; so will have limited computer time until I can get my hands on a new one. Wish me luck!

And if there's any of you in Darlington area, maybe we can say hi during the week. Leave me a comment.

When it came to shopping, I preferred to buy most things online. There were marketplaces where you could ensure that sellers were trusted; and a torrent of reviews for every item. If I wasn't sure how a particular outfit would look on me, a couple of the larger sites now made it easier to search for photos with a model – whether a professional or someone leaving a review – who was close to my own proportions.

Still, at times I would do real shopping. It wasn't uncommon for me to drive down to the Mercer Center for a day, so that I could get advice from someone who knew what they were talking about. But for other things, like groceries, I would much rather just receive a parcel that ticked off all the boxes on my shopping list without me needing to worry about it.

I would admit that there were some very specific needs which could be better served by a shop in the real world. Places where the product was a work of pure craft, for example, and the interaction was as much about forging a link between the craftsman and the buyer than a mere exchange of money for goods. I was sure that there were other examples as well, but I would never call a shop like this one of them. It was everything that I hated about retail shopping, rolled up into one tiny establishment.

The merchandise wasn't arranged in any logical manner, but instead arrayed on row upon row of shelves like a museum exhibit. Like you had to be properly introduced before you might be trusted enough to take one of them down. The aisles were narrow, and nothing was labelled. The whole atmosphere seemed calculated to scream that if you didn't already know everything there was to know, then this place wasn't meant for you. I didn't quite feel at home between the shelves, but at least the proprietor recognised me. I had been here a dozen times, dropping Ffrances off, and he must have seen the disapproval in my eyes back then. The whole establishment was an altar to vanity. But it was one that I was willing to sell my soul at, if necessary, to get what I wanted.

The store owner was perched on the edge of a rocking chair that barely fitted between the shelves on either side, filled with a thick enough pile of blankets that you might think he would tumble off as soon as it moved. His face was a little gaunt, his hair flecked with grey, and his sweater faded as if left out in the sun too long; although he projected the image of a shut-in nerd you would never expect to see in daylight. I couldn't remember the guy's name; I knew most of his customers did, but I'd never been one of those kind of people. But it was just possible that I had something I could offer that would persuade him to help me. He liked Ffrances as well; it was anybody's guess whether he would stand in my way because he wanted her for himself, or help in the hope that she would think more highly of him. It was always hard to talk to people like that, who preferred his obsession to human contact and could barely function with normal social conventions.

"Ah, Gabby," he greeted me with a thin-lipped smile and a voice like the creaking door in some haunted manor house. "I'm surprised to see you in my humble emporium again. I haven't seen you here since... mmm... I think it was Duane's graduation party. How is life treating you?"

"Not bad," I answered noncommittal, not sure what to make of this sudden imitation of familiarity. "You remember me?"

"Of course. I hate to lose touch with people, and good friends are so hard to meet. Ffrances talks about you, of course, and I'm glad to hear you're enjoying some of the experiences that come with starting a family."