Sweet Charity

way.’
    He started carrying the books in. There were four small boxes, all full.
    ‘Thank you, Luke. We always need new stock.’
    He hesitated. ‘Mum said you were really kind to her the other afternoon. Thanks.’
    He was looking awkward, but she admired his manners and his courage. ‘Please tell your mum she’s welcome to pop in any time she likes. I’d love to have another chat.’
    ‘She misses Dad so much. And I’ve tried to help but . . .’ His voice trailed off.
    ‘You’ve probably helped her more than you know.’
    He shrugged and she saw that mixture of vulnerability and bravado again. Time for a change of subject, she decided. ‘Luke, I wonder if you could give me some advice? Those CDs and records
there have just arrived, but I’m afraid I haven’t a clue about them. I really can’t tell one modern band from another. I don’t suppose you’d be interested in sorting
through them for me? I can’t pay you for the work, but I can promise you one free CD an hour.’ He didn’t need to know she’d put the money in the till for them herself.
    ‘Oh, cool. Sure, that’d be great. I have to do some stuff for Mum, but I could come back later?’
    ‘Perfect. See you then.’
    She and Luke spent a pleasant hour or two together, chatting sometimes, working quietly together other times. After four o’clock their solitude was interrupted as waves of school-kids
started coming in. She made a point of welcoming each of them. A tip she’d read in an anti-shoplifting pamphlet. Mind you, if people were shoplifting from a charity shop, they were either in
dire straits or particularly shameless.
    She caught the eye of one girl. ‘You’re looking for something for the bad taste party?’
    Up came the colour as she nodded. Beside her, her two friends were now also looking embarrassed. Teenagers really were so sweet, Lola thought. She pointed to the rack behind them.
    ‘I’ve put a few things to one side for that very event. Mind you, my idea of bad taste and yours might be something quite different.’ She knew they were looking at her outfit.
A green trouser suit today, with a yellow polka-dot shirt underneath. She’d teamed it with a bandanna, jauntily tied in a bow on one side. ‘So before you ask, no, I’m afraid this
isn’t for sale.’
    Fifteen minutes later they left, each with an outfit for the party. Three young men came in next. Lola smiled a welcome, called out a hello, but they ignored her, talking among themselves.
    Flick, flick. The tallest of them picked his way along the rail, sending the clothes hangers rattling. ‘We should just raid my dad’s wardrobe for this thing. You should see the shit
he wears.’
    Lola winced. ‘Excuse me?’
    ‘His suits are crap. And he’s got this golfing gear he wears every weekend. Jesus Christ, he looks like some fat man from the seventies.’
    ‘Excuse me?’
    That time he heard her. He turned. ‘What?’
    ‘I’d prefer it if you didn’t swear like that while you are in this shop.’
    He gave a dismissive laugh. ‘You’d what?’
    Lola kept her voice calm. ‘Could you please mind your language while you are in here?’
    ‘You’ve got to be joking.’ He laughed, looked at the two others with him and rolled his eyes. One of them nervously giggled. ‘It’s a crappy charity shop.’
    ‘It’s a charity shop, yes.’
    She stared him down. He shrugged and turned away.
    ‘Come on. Let’s get out of here,’ the smaller of the three said.
    ‘No.’ It was the one who had sworn. ‘I haven’t looked around yet.’ He pushed back one row of suit jackets, flicked through another rack, then went to the shelf of
records and CDs. Luke was there, sorting the final shelf. The boy ignored him.
    ‘Did you hear about Kane and the party?’ The smallest one spoke to the other boy. His voice was breaking. Lola could tell by the squeak appearing now and again. ‘It’s
wicked. Go on, tell Jed about your harem, Kane.’
    Kane shrugged. ‘It’s no big deal.’
    ‘Come on. What is it?’ said the other boy, Jed.
    The smallest boy glanced over at Kane, as if to check it was all right for him to tell the story. Lola was reminded of films featuring a prince or a lord arrogantly striding around, while his
acolytes bowed and scraped and did their best to get his attention.
    ‘He’s asked four different girls. So each of them thinks he’s their date and then they’ll all turn up!’
    Jed frowned. ‘But why?’
    Kane reached over and