NO CREDIT MISSUS
Above her head the bell made a clanging noise as Mary Scanlan stepped into the village’s general store and was immediately confronted by a notice in bold writing that baldly stated, ‘No Credit.’
That doesn’t apply to me, she thought smugly. Not this time. Yet, it was mortifying to have to ask the shopkeeper for credit again.
Jimmy Timoney set his face like flint and stared pointedly at the notice.
“Don’t I always pay you?”
Ignoring her belligerent tone Jimmy, run his hands nervously over his brown shop coat leaving a trail of flour he had just been weighting out into individual bags, down the front of it. He adjusted the glasses. “Well, yes, Mrs Scanlan, you always pay…eventually. But I have bills to pay…”
Mary was ready with her answer.” I don’t think you can compare your outgoing to mine,” she huffed
Jimmy wanted to clench his fists and pound on the shop counter like a child having a temper tantrum. Instead he smoothed out the sheets of brown wrapping paper on the counter. And counted to ten. Stingy old bitch, he thought. No doubt she has her will made out with strict instruction that all her debt dies with her, including what she owes me, he fumed.
“I hardly think with a farm like yours at your back you’re in poverty,” he retorted.
Mary’s colour rose. “I’m just a poor farmer’s widow, trying to make ends meet. You live in a grand house and have a wife who can wear fur coats because of my custom,” she sniffed. “Not to mention that nice boat you slip away to from time to time,” she said triumphantly.
Jimmy felt himself go red behind the ears at the mention of the little cruiser he kept on the Fermanagh lakes.
“I have light and heat to pay and then there’s my employee’s wage,” he stuttered.
Mary snorted. “Employee? Is that what you call that sullen faced boy of yours? He can hardly lift his head or speak to the customers.”
Jimmy bristled. “Now, Mrs, don’t be getting’ personal. My son John James is young. He’ll learn as he goes along. Look how your own daughter’s communication skills have improved of late.” He felt a grim swell of satisfaction wash over him as he saw the colour rise on her cheeks. The young people gathered nightly in Mac Dinghy’s barn. Mary’s daughter Christina was always there flaunting herself, if the gossip was to be believed.
Mary drew her small stout body to its full five foot nothing. Barely head and shoulders above the old fashioned wooden counter, she fixed him with a glare? “My Christina is a good girl. What are you implying? Mr Timoney?”
Jimmy held up his hands in surrender. He had walked right into her trap “What was it you wanted, anyway,” he said ungraciously.
Mary, at her leisure now, threw up her large shopping bag on the counter and from her deep pockets withdrew a lengthy list.
Jimmy’s face blanched. If this kept up I’ll soon not be able to afford to buy petrol for the bloody boat, he thought.
“I’ll see you get the essentials but the rest …. “
Mary’s lips tightened. “They’re all essential.”
Jimmy began to perspire heavily. He scanned the list. “A new bucket for the outdoor privy,” he stuttered out loudly. “And a rose leaf tea set with matching teapot and cake stand?”
Mary crossed her hands under her bosom in battle formation style and tossed back her head of permed hair. “I’m having visitors.” she said importantly. “The Scottish relations are touring Ireland and said they might call,” she admitted. And I’m not having my brother in-law and his snooty nosed wife from Aberdeen thinking we’re the poor relations, she thought grimly.
“What are you planning to do? Give them tea in china cups in the lavatory,” Jimmy spluttered.
Mary glowered at him. “I’ll not stand here to be insulted. I’ll take my business someplace else,” she hissed.
Jimmy dearly wanted to tell her to do just that but he knew he’d lose her other business in relation to the substantial farm her dear departed husband had left her.
He beckoned curtly to John James. “Fill Mrs Scan’ order and for pity sake take your eyes from your feet,” he snarled.
Mary beamed at the crown of the boy’s head. “Why don’t you deliver it for me? Then I can introduce you to my Christina. She has enough talk for both of you,” she smirked.
“When can I expect to get paid,” Jimmy asked tight lipped.
“Just as soon as I have the money,” Mary said absently as she picked up a teacup with a yellow rosé pattern and then changed her mind and picked one with a delicate white cup trimmed with gold.
“When will that be?”
“Oh, probably before you go on your boat trip.”
John James lifted his head and looked from his father to Mary and back.
“Your takin’ mammy on a cruise? “ John James said wide eyed.
Jimmy shoved him aside. “Go and get a bloody bucket for an outside loo” he said hurriedly.
John James moved away and then retraced his steps.
“Mammy hates water. She’ll not want to go.”
Mary smiled maliciously. Oh, she’ll want to go alright. She had no doubt about that. She’d love to be a fly on the wall when Jimmy Timoney tried explaining his little water trips away when his clueless son blabbed it all out to his mother, she thought.
She favoured Jimmy with a long knowing look. “Don’t forget to let John James come out and see my Christina,” she said winking at the bewildered looking boy. “We have a lot to talk about.”
“You go on Mrs, .I is sure you have other things to see to before your visitors come. If there is anything else you need just let me know, “Jimmy said hastily ushering her towards the shop door.
“And the payment for the shopping and things,” Mary asked sweetly.
Jimmy waved his hand resignedly. “I’ll put it in the book – with a good discount,” he said hurriedly. “Pay when you’re ready.”
Mary raised her eyebrows. “That’s very kind and generous of you, Mr Timoney. “You’re sure now there’s no hurry with the money?” she smirked.
Jimmy studied Mary’s conniving expression. He was sure it wouldn’t be too long before he heard from her again.
It was time to tell the wife about the boat trip and. his ‘fishing companion.”
Gemma Hill May 2018 copyright
Gemma Hill Writeyou Writeme 