Making Brook's Life

Chapter 1

Cradle - The Joy Formidable

She was an explorer. Famous Five style. Fluttering around the city center of Leeds she was determined to see everything. An ambitious goal but she was willing to stick to it. First was the market, a looming building of romanticly regal architecture which rose up and up and up. Though she would have been happy to stay admiring the outside until her neck cracked, time was against her and there was pleanty more to admire inside. The roof above her arched and dipped, glass and metal and brick, but beautiful in it's way. Forming a crowded isle were endless stalls, the signs were battered and dirty but the goods they offered made up for it. One stall caught her eye. Nothing better that an oldfashioned fruit and veg shop. Aside from of course, an old fashioned sweet shop.

Emerging from the till, her arms filled with liquorice and mints, she strode away from the makeshift stalls and found herself in a cavern of glass windows. Marble pillars supported the immaculate glass roof structure. The shop windows were stocked with textile beauties, perfumes, watches, pipes and glasses. Pausing in one window a drapey black shirt caught her eye. Off the maequin, it would have looked like a bundle of scraps, but on it you could see how the material defined the hips and barely skimmed the shoulders making it look look weightless and airy.

Walking gingerly into the shop she was met with the cold glare of a shop assistant. Her hair pulled into a tight, painful bun, brown roots peeking out from the tacky blonde and lips a bright spiky red.

"How can we help you today?" The shop assistant's eyes roamed up and down the girl making her skin crawl.

"Yeah actually. I'd like to inquire about tha' top in the window." The shop assistant seemed (understanderly) surprised at the American Southern Belle accent that escaped the girl's lips.

Where did that come from? Oh well no going back now.

"And while you're at it....hmmmm... I'd like to test drive that beauty!"

She flailed her arms towards a tartan dress, precariously held together by oversized safety pins with a huge black felt rose resting between the high collar and shoulder pad. It was gorgeous.

The shop assistant near-snorted before heading in the direction of the dress. A few minutes later she returned with both the dress and the top.

"Well which one do you want to try on first?" The shop girl sneered at her.

"Now tha' is a hard decision! Oh the Scottish in me is a'wakening! So... let's go with the tartan!" The shop assistance's scrunched up as if she's smelt something bad.

Within half an hour the girl had tried on five other items, each beautiful with a price that sent her eyebrows shooting off her forehead. During this half-hour the shop assistant sighed in disgust 23 times; made a comment about the brand's rich clients 14 times and complained about her client's weight 9 times. To add insult to injury whilst the girl was admiring a navy duffel coat adorned with material scraps and political badges in the mirror she overheard the shop assistant call her a "fat Yankee freak in the boots" .

There were three major things wrong with the comment. 1. She was not fat (I'm a healthy plump) 2. The use of Yankee was completely out of context (I'm currently from the South! Idiot.) 3. The boots were Dr. Martens and demanded more respect. (Don't listen to the Anorexic Scratter, Boots. I think you're lovely.)

Eventually, she settled on the cheapest item she had picked out, a vertically striped top which was fitted like a large waistcoat and tied behind the neck leaving the shoulders and upperback bare.

At the counter an older woman with peircing blue eyes and luminous orange hair asked if she would like the top giftwrapped. "Awwwww. You're too kind! I'll have it as a gift to myself-but don't tell!" You could almost hear the eyeroll the Anorexic Scratter gave to the even stronger accent. "But first I'd like to make a complaint." The orange-haired lady's eyes narrowed.

"I'm sorry to hear that. Can I ask what it is about please?" The woman's voice filled with consern and a tinge of anger.

"Well...", the girl lowered her voice, "I aint to sure how it is over hear. But back where I'm from your customer service should be second to none. I mean the customer's paying and all, so the young lady who assisted (assisted is being nice) me today really quite insulted me. I'm sure ya'll know how to help a girl in distress so I got no doubt that you will know what to do about this-I just thought I should let you know." 

"Oh yes of course! Can I please have a name so I can file the complaint."

"Absolutely. It's Arianna Young and if you need contact details it's YoungAriannaBabe@e-mail.com."

"Thank you. We promise it will be dealt with right accordingly. Here's your purchase, please come again!"

"Thank ya'll."

Revenge was so sweet.