Rosy George’s Convention Conundrum Book Excerpt by Polly Young

The next fortnight was a whirlwind of drinks, meals and house visits as Rosy said goodbye to friends and colleagues. It was fun but as she drew breath on the bus between engagements, the revelry made it harder to leave her beloved life. Sod it, she thought, on the day of departure. It’s probably the last chance to shop properly so I may as well splurge. And she did – on a pair of strappy vertiginous heels that made her look like a celebrity hippy.
It was these she was wearing in Lytton Farm Shop as the bell ‘ding’ed behind her on her first Tuesday in the village. Looking up from the wheat-free pasta, she reddened. Angus Hart stood before her in corduroys and a faded polo shirt, holding a baby’s head.
She screamed. Not just a scream; a screech a banshee would have been proud of. On the far side of the shop, a bottle smashed. People stared. Angus blinked.
“My God! What the …?”
“It’s not real.”
She looked again and saw it was true. It was incredibly life-like … but plastic.
She’d been less disturbed by David’s Speedos. “What on earth are you doing?”
Smirking, he raised an eyebrow. “Shopping with a friend.”
He was too weird for words. She picked up a basket and made to go, but he fell into step beside her and the aisles were too narrow to run.
He cornered her by the soft fruit. “I’m sorry I scared you.” He gestured towards the doll’s head, which sat like a curious pineapple, gazing up through the bars of his trolley. “It’s just a prop. I use it with the children in drama. It prompts interesting discussion.”
God help the children; who knew what sort of conversation he was into. She hurried on, but he followed.
“I thought you’d be in the beauty section.” She steeled herself for the inevitable. “Buying nail varnish.”
She threw him a withering look. “I have enough left, thank you. It was only a very small scratch.”
“The tree wasn’t quite so lucky.”
Boy, was he hard work. She turned to face him. “I’m sorry. Again. But it’s a tree. It’ll live.”
He explored her with his eyes. “Why are we arguing?”
She was temporarily thrown. Because you scared me. Because of your arrogance. Because you like to fuck people in the bushes. “I don’t know.”
“I’m sorry if I scared you.” His hair curled into his neck at the back, she noticed. Just at the back. Otherwise it was quite straight.
She exhaled slowly. “That’s ok.”