Q - Window Shopping

Everyday he stands there, the frail old man. Next to the drainpipe
outside his shop, stooping, slightly blocking the doorway, not that
anyone wants to go through it anyway.

He has looked old for as long as anyone can remember, but it used to be
a dominoes playing, half a pint of mild, walk your dog on a Sunday kind
of old. Now he looks like he'd collapse if a car backfired or if it
started raining too heavily.

He always wears the same cardigan and flat cap, the type that you can
buy in his shop, although he is clearly his only customer. In the shop
window there are untidy piles of dusty books and racks of clothes
falling off their hangers. There obviously isn't enough time in his day
to tidy up a bit. He's too busy standing by the door shaking a little
bit more than you feel is healthy, watching people walk past. These
people go down the street going into shops and coming out with carrier
bags in hand from places obviously more familiar with the concept of
stocking things people want to buy, selling things, making money. The
sort of thing some shop owners feel necessary.

Two boys walk down the street, cross the road and drop their
skateboards on the floor near where the old man stands. They peer
through the shop window and he looks at them suspiciously as he doesn't
stock anything they would be interested in. He doesn't stock anything
anybody would be interested in. They both bypass him and go inside. He
stays where he is through force of habit. One of them comes out with a
trilby on his head.
'How much is this?'
'Put it back.'
'No, I wanna know how much it is.'
'Fifty pence.'
'I might buy it. For my granddad, it's his birthday soon.
'If you want to buy it give me your money, if not, piss off.'
'You should be nicer to your customers. That's why no-one comes to your
shop.'
'People do come to my shop.'
'No they don't. I come past here every day and I never see anybody.
Apart from you, standing where you are now.'
'Piss off'
'Why? Because I'm young. Because I'm on a skateboard. Because I've got
long hair. You shouldn't judge me just because of what I look like. I
could say you must fantasise about Carol Vorderman and piss your pants
all the time just because your old. I'm here as a proper customer to
get my granddad something.'
'Sorry kid. Take the hat, don't worry about your fifty pence.'
'No, I'll give you my money. Why do you always stand outside your shop
even when it's raining and cold? and shut?'
'I don't like it in there, I prefer it out here.'
'But why?'
'I got robbed once. Two thieving bastards made off with everything in
the till. They put a knife to my throat, I've never really got over
it.' The old man looks at his shoes as he talks. The boy puts down his
skateboard and takes his hat off.
'That must have been...the worst. I'm sorry. But you're still working
here.'
'Not through choice. I've tried selling the place but no-one wants it.
And I live in the flat above, so if I got rid of the shop I'd be rid of
my home as well. I can't be doing with moving all my things at my age
and looking for a new place to live. I suppose I stay outside so much
because I don't feel safe inside anymore.'
He smiles at the boy, who smiles back, moving his skateboard out of the
way of a couple walking past.
'Five years ago it was now, seems like longer, but ever since the
bastards pulled that knife, I've been a different person. I loved my
shop, it was a good little business once upon a time. Before you were
born probably. It was a friendly shop, it had atmosphere, laughter?
customers. But now it's one long struggle.'
'Why don't you get an assistant?'
'I don't need anyone to help me stand here and do nothing.'
'No, you could get somebody who'll change it round a bit, put fresh
ideas in, make some money.'
'I've thought about it. But money's so tight at the moment I couldn't
afford to pay them a months wages. You find me someone who'll work for
free and I'll employ them.'
'I'll do it. I do business studies at school. I could lend you my text
book, it's got lots of ideas in.'
'You're a good kid. I'll tell you what, you find a way of making me a
bit of money then you can have all the trilbys you want for
free.'
'You don't think I'm going to do anything but I will do!'
'I'm sure you will. I'll tell you what, you can work here a couple of
hours a week if you want. I can give you a few pounds a week to help me
out. If you want to that is. It will give you a bit of pocket money and
it'll help me with the boredom.'
'If you get bored you should go out places. My granddad goes to a pub
quiz on Tuesdays. He gets free sandwiches and sausage rolls. You could
go as well, he's always saying he wants more people on his team. And he
goes to watch the football in town on Saturdays, he'd be glad of the
company if you wanted to go with him. Do you want me to ask him?'
'Well, I do like football, and I used to quite like a pub quiz. I've
not been to one for years?'
'?I've got to go now. Bye.'
The old man looks startled as the boy puts his hat back on, gets on his
skateboard and disappears at full speed down the street. He can see him
in the distance with his friend, laughing. He goes into the shop and
sees the till is open and there is no money in it.

'Thieving bastards.'