Everyone in the shop turned to stare, the old ladies in particular. Dylan just couldn’t let it go. He was like an annoying little dog, yapping at his heels.
Writing women’s fiction was nothing to be ashamed of, he reminded himself. He had been called the Agatha Christie of his generation. They had even made TV adaptations of a couple of his novels. He turned back to his laptop, but Dylan continued to hover. “Oh, I’m sorry, I’m distracting you, aren’t I?” “No, not at all.”
He kept on typing. Within minutes, he had fallen into a trance-like state, the laptop wobbling as his fingers flew over the keys. He worked with a frenzy, the words gushing out of him like blood from an open vein. By the time he came to, Dylan had wandered off and his tea was as cold as a puddle. He had been so engrossed in his work that he had barely noticed two youths haring around the tea shop, not until one of them knocked into his table. He caught his laptop just in time to save it from crashing to the floor, but the table was now soaked with tea. The lad who had done it didn’t even say sorry. Best not to react, Jock decided. He didn’t want any trouble. “Here, let me clean that up.” Angie rushed forward with a cloth. “You’ll have to leave,” she told the youths. But they took no notice. A couple of the old ladies at the next table tutted and shook their heads. One of them muttered something about manners and her friends nodded in agreement. Jock watched as the youths moved towards them. The one with a gold tooth lifted the lid off their teapot and spat into it. Both boys laughed hysterically.
One of the old ladies, a well-dressed woman with coiffured hair and high cheekbones, eyed the boy’s skinny jeans. “Is that what people are wearing these days?” Gold Tooth’s face turned ugly. “What did you say, you old hag?” “Would you like to borrow my hearing aid?” she asked, with deliberate enunciation. Her cut-glass accent sliced through the air. Angie darted a glance at Jock, as if she expected him to do something. But what could he do? Seconds passed and she was still looking at him with that hopeful expression in her eyes. In the end,
it was her who spoke. “Out!” she ordered the boys. “I told you to leave.” The boys were all wide-eyed innocence. “What have we done? We just wanted to see the May Queen. You know, before it’s too late.”
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