Charity Shops On Saturday

‘Career prospects for Virgo look promising as Opportunity Planet Jupiter sheds rays of hope. Make time for a loved one!’

Charity blinked away familiar tears as she flicked over the pages in her magazine. The ‘Lifestyle’ column suggested ‘Learn a new skill every day; grasp opportunities that come your way to discover new interests.’ Charity straightened the already smooth cushions on Walter’s favourite chair and wondered how she could possibly do as the article suggested.

‘Show me how to live without you my darling.’ She murmured to Walter’s empty chair, but there was no response, as always.

Dispiritedly she returned to the article. ‘List all the positive and negative aspects of your life.’ With Walter gone, Charity existed on the breath of his memory. Her heart knew neither advice columns, or horoscope promises could fill the empty tomb of her grief. She tried to imagine a time free from heartbreak for it took huge effort to find paper and pencil to make notes on her life.

Nevertheless she made two columns. Wrote in large capitals: ‘LOVELY HOME’: ‘LONELY:’ Charity stared at Walter’s empty space, longed for inspiration, encouragement; nothing.

‘Fancy a cup of tea Walter? her voice deliberately bright in another attempt to inspire a response. Nothing, as usual but tea suddenly seemed a good idea, so whilst the kettle boiled Charity considered other items to add to her list. She opened the ’fridge, shook the carton; recognised it was as empty as her mind. How could she have forgotten to buy milk?

Dismayed to discover that she had run out of the powdered stuff too, Charity slipped on her jacket, picked up her bag.

‘Won’t be long Walter.’ Reassurance echoed throughout the silent house as the door closed behind her. She hurried to the bus stop, irritated that her thoughtless neglect forced the unexpected journey on Saturday of all days.

In happier times she had been content for Walter to set the pattern of her life. Unplanned trips into town or any break from the routine carefully established since her loss, unsettled Charity. She felt safe with her new undemanding companions: Solitude, Housework and Ironing. Even the milkman had given up his daily round, he blamed the supermarkets.

Charity always shopped mid-week, she felt comfortable with other lonely people like herself, who searched out cut- price vegetables in the market or discount store. But oddly enough she enjoyed the unaccustomed Saturday bustle of the High Street for in the early spring sunshine the stalls did brisk business.

The smell of fish and chips, from a little van enticed her. Unfortunately the small tables and chairs put out for customers were already occupied, but she noticed a café further up the hill.

Suddenly overcome with hunger and thirst, and seduced by the unusually warm weather, Charity determined to indulge herself.

Slightly out of breath, she paused outside a shop half way up the gentle slope of the High Street where a woman about her own age stood admiring a window display.

‘What do you think? Do you like it?’ She turned towards Charity, anxious for her reaction. Charity looked flustered, hesitated to linger, for the café only a few doors away beckoned. However the woman seemed genuinely interested in her opinion, so Charity adjusted her spectacles to examine the display.

‘It’s lovely really different, but what kind of creature is that?’ asked Charity

pointing out a huge beautifully carved bird with brightly coloured red and gold plumage that took centre stage in the window.

‘Oh a local artist donated him, isn’t it magnificent? It’s a Phoenix the most magical and mythical bird in the whole world. Legend says it lives for hundreds of years and at the end of its life builds a nest that it then sets alight! Both nest and bird burn and from the ashes a new young phoenix is reborn. It’s supposed to be a sign of good fortune so I hope my window display will win this year’s competition!’

‘If I were the judge you would definitely win,’ Charity blurted out ‘I was so intent on sitting down to have a cup of tea at the café just up the road here I’m ashamed to say I would have walked right past if you hadn’t stopped me! I’m so pleased you did! I’ve learnt something new and done something different too for I’ve never been this far up the High Street for years, didn’t even know about your shop.’ Charity confessed.

‘We’ve been in business for about three years now. The artist who carved our Phoenix used to own the premises but unfortunately there was a fire and the whole place was gutted. We took over the lease and now it looks as good as new, that’s why this carving imeans so much to us who work here. Incidentally my name’s Joyce, I’m the Manageress,’ the woman stated proudly.

‘That’s an important job, what do you sell?’ Charity enquired, encouraged by the woman’s warmth.

‘Oh this is a Charity Shop, we sell pretty well anything and everything, donations from anyone and everyone. Come inside and have a look around, you might see something you like. Or, if you have a few hours a week to spare we’re always on the look-out for volunteers to help run the place. You’d make lots of new friends. We

have such a laugh, it beats being stuck at home feeling miserable. Why don’t you give it a try?’

Charity hesitated. She gazed at the window, confused, for the extravagant window display promised an exotic Aladdin’s Cave inside.

‘Come in love,’ Joyce encouraged, ‘I’ll put the kettle on as we’re not busy, by the way what’s your name?

‘It’s Charity’ she replied as she allowed Joyce to usher her into the showroom.

‘Now there’s a coincidence! Come into the back Charity, and we’ll have a nice chat and a cuppa.’

Joyce led the way through the cluttered room into an overgrown garden where a clothesline of men’s shirts dried in the breeze. A tiny patio housed a wooden bench and table. ‘We always make time for a break Charity, so sit yourself down whilst I bring out our tea and biscuits.’

Joyce explained how the volunteers sorted and priced each donation and when necessary laundered the clothes. Charity immediately offered to iron the shirts she’d noticed.

‘Very kind of you but let’s finish our tea first shall we!’ Joyce suggested.

They were both startled by the sudden appearance of large black cat that leapt onto the bench beside Joyce. Huge emerald eyes squinted at Charity.

‘Oh no! Hope you’re not allergic Charity! I’m at my wits’ end to know what to do with him what with all the Health and Safety Regulations! Thinks he owns the place; he’s been here since we opened. Absently, Joyce fondly stroked his ears. Can’t understand why nobody’s claimed him, though he used to wear an identity tag that said “Walter.”

The cat hopped over to Charity, purred loudly and snuggled close beside her.

‘I say he’s taken quite a fancy to you!’ Joyce exclaimed, ‘I’ve never known him be quite so friendly with strangers before! But if you’ve finished your tea Charity those shirts will be just about dry enough for you to iron, if you still want to I mean?’