39
The queue at the checkout snaked ahead of her, hardly moving at all. Gail blew out a loud breath, irritated and impatient. She played with the crucifix at her throat, as she always did when stressed. Why was it that they always had so many aisles, but so few operators working at any given time? Today there were only three open, and at each waited at least a dozen or so people, their trolleys piled up high. She glanced down at her miserable-looking basket and stifled a tear. Shopping for one, something she thought she’d never do again.
At last, having successfully negotiated the hell of the supermarket, she wandered out into the huge car park, head down, fumbling for her keys.
“Hello there!”
She gave a little start and looked up to see the young police constable that had come to her
