Joy To The World

It was a hectic time of year, but Beth was counting her blessings.

- Sheila Blackburn

A pretty box of shiny crackers, bottle of sherry and a dozen deep-filled mince pies. Beth smiled at the elderly lady at the other side of the check-out.

“That’s £14.75, please.” She tried to make it sound less than it was, watching as the lady handed over a ten pound note and rooted in her purse for the rest.

“I have it here, I’m sure.” She began counting coins into Beth’s hand. Her fingers were gnarled with rheumatism. The long queue behind her fidgeted with annoyance. “Sorry to keep you.”

Beth found a new patience – a sympathy – with this customer; she’d already waited her turn in one of the queues that snaked right to the back of the store. Several part-time cashiers had been dispatched along the lines with free offerings from tins of festive toffees and biscuits.

“Something to keep them sweet,” the manager had instructed and laughed at his own joke.

“Don’t worry about it,” Beth now assured the customer. “Between you and me, I’m glad of a bit of a break.”

“There…” the coins were found, the till pinged open and the lady began to pack her items into a faded bag that had seen its fair share of Christmases. “That’s me sorted, in case the family calls in.”

Beth reached to tear the receipt from the jaws of the printer.

“Always a lot to do at this time of year,” she remarked. And stopped there, conscious that this customer had not sounded sure about her family visiting.

The woman had given up trying to fit the crackers into her bag. Behind her, a fraught-looking mother was loading the first of two trolleys of groceries onto the conveyor belt. A tottering mountain of food was already juddering to a halt in front of Beth.