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with green. How will she respond to what is about to be offered to her? The thought of her and Chris getting together for real parts my insides like a hot knife through butter. Curiously though, the thought of her rejecting him and hurting him is almost as unsavoury. I know Chris well enough to recognise him for the drama queen that he is and I know that, in that event, he will take it hard. But having read the poem, I reckon the chances of her melting into his arms are pretty high.
    What are you gonna do? I take a generous swig of my glass of white wine.
    This is the first time that I have been in actual social proximity to Stuart Green from the grocery department. Stuart Green from Groceries and Vic from Perishables are the only two non-checkout staff that hang out with us, mainly due to their age, and the fact that they both study at the same uni as Chris and Kathy. I think Stuart is about the same age as Chris. He studies chemical engineering. I don’t really have a feel for him as he has never said a word to me or even made eye contact. He only ever comes down to the front end of the store to talk to Kathy. There is sometimes a curt nod towards Chris, Ed or Bianca. He is generally unsmiling and a bit formidable, but incredibly self-assured. From the little I know of him, he is the complete opposite of Chris. Chris is inclusive, extremely social, and his speech is so laden with in-jokes, self-deprecation and sarcasm you have to learn to decode it. Stuart seems kind of minimal. He is a large guy, broad across the shoulders, attractive if you like cruel-looking men. And people do. Liza did once.
    The other week, late in the evening shift, I’d heard squealing from down towards the service desk. Kathy was in a state of great agitation. It seemed that a mouse had run out from underneath a pyramid display of Vita-Weat. Three checkouts ahead of me, Chris quickly secured his register and started down towards the service desk. He was halfway there when Stuart Green strode out from aisle one, where he must have been stacking shelves. He carried a white polystyrene box which he deftly brought down over the top of the offending mouse. With the mouse trapped, he put one steel-cap booted foot on top of the box for good measure. Kathy breathed a sigh of relief. Chris had frozen in his tracks. There was a good few seconds when they all three cut an interesting tableau. Kathy broke it first.
    ‘Thanks, Chris, you can go back to your register now. We’ll take it from here.’
    Chris looked from her green eyes to Stuart’s cruel ones and didn’t move. A couple of late-night customers had started to queue up at my register.
    ‘Go back to your register, Chris,’ Kathy said, pulling Service Supervisor rank. ‘There are customers waiting.’
    Chris turned and walked back up to his register. He looked at me briefly, expressionlessly, as he passed. Stuart took care of the mouse. Somehow.
    So right now at the party, Stuart is playing pool and Kathy is smoking on the deck. I’m chatting to Sveta about school when Jeremy comes up to us carrying a bottle of white wine.
    ‘How’s the evening going, ladies?’
    He slots himself in between us and expertly pours three glasses of wine.
    Sveta doesn’t say anything. It’s up to me.
    ‘Fine. It’s going fine.’
    ‘Cigarette?’ he asks, fishing in his pockets.
    ‘No!’
    He stops fishing. ‘Cheers then. To Bianca’s dad’s Christmas bonus.’
    Again, Sveta doesn’t say anything.
    ‘Cheers,’ I say. We clink glasses and look out over the harbour.
    Maybe it’s the wine, which I’m not used to drinking, but I’m beginning to feel something resembling relaxation. If Sveta does kill men with her thighs, she certainly doesn’t talk about it at parties.
    It’s turning out that Jeremy is an okay sort. Prior to the party all I knew of him was that he was in Year Eleven at St Pat’s and sold cigarettes to all the underage kids in the area when he worked at the service desk on Thursday