Poppy straightened herself after stooping.
‘What did you say?’ she asked.
‘I was asking you about the Pale Horse.’
‘A pale horse? What do you mean?’
‘You mentioned it the other evening.’
‘I’m sure I never did anything of the kind! I’ve never heard of any such thing.’
‘Somebody told you about it. Who was it?’
Poppy drew a deep breath and spoke very fast.
‘I don’t in the least know what you mean! And we’re not supposed to talk to customers.’ … She slapped paper round my choice. ‘That will be thirty-five shillings, please.’
I gave her two pound notes. She thrust six shillings into my hand and turned quickly to another customer.
Her hands, I noticed, were shaking slightly.
I went out slowly. When I had gone a little way, I realised she had quoted the wrong price (asparagus fern was seven and six) and had also given me too much change. Her mistakes in arithmetic had previously been in the other direction.
I saw again the rather lovely vacant face and the wide blue eyes. There had been something showing in those eyes …
‘Scared,’ I said to myself. ‘Scared stiff … Now why? Why?’
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