THE SHOP BY THE SEA

Torrential rain drove James and Amy into the little seaside shop.  It looked harmless enough from outside with plastic buckets gathering rainwater and inflatable rings and dinghies hanging from the awning.  Inside, the place was crammed with wares.

“Buy this for me!” cried Amy picking up an ‘I Luv You’ teddy bear.
James laughed; “Certainly not, it’s dirty!”
“Ugh!” Amy put it back.
An old man wearing stripy flares, a pink shirt and sleeveless patterned jumper looked up; “Be careful.  You’re disrespecting the stock.”
James and Amy looked at each other with mock straight faces; “Oooh!”
“There’s more up there,” whispered Amy.

 

Upstairs, out of earshot they found themselves alone.  On one side they were surrounded by clothes, on the other there were shelves filled with dining room accessories.

“Who’d wear these?” Amy squealed, holding up a pair of white knee high boots.
Chris picked up a yellow sleeveless jumper; “The owner was wearing one like this with flares!”
“Like these!” Amy showed him a pair of man’s white flares and they dissolved into giggles.
They left the clothes and explored the shelves of tupperware, plastic tartan table cloths, brown cloth napkins and plastic cutlery.  Behind the shelves was a table set for six.  On it was a recipe book, above it a glitter ball.  At the end of the table, a female mannequin stared at them creepily, her hair a huge nest of curls.  “Nice!” sneered James.
“A prawn cocktail!” Amy gestured to the recipe on the front of the book, “height of sophistication!”
“Green ice cream sundae glasses!” sniggered James; “can’t believe they’re two quid each.  Who would buy them?”
That moment a rumble tore through the shop causing the table to shake and the glasses on the shelves to clink together.
“Army manoeuvres,” James explained.  “You could throw a dinner party in those white boots.  Prawn cocktail to start, for dessert the keys go into the bowl!”
“Seriously,” Amy said, “I can’t believe anyone would pay money for this junk!”
As she spoke, the mannequin slipped from its position and slumped on the table, head down, arms outstretched.
Amy and James stared for a moment, then turned to go.
“Funny.  I thought this was the way,” he said, as a shelf of items blocked his path.
“James!  That mannequin, she was face down a minute ago!” Amy pointed, the mannequin was facing them now, head on its side.
“It fell like that,” James replied without conviction.
They walked to the end of the shelves, but there was no gap around it to the next aisle.
“James, this place is freaking me out!”
They turned and blocking their way were the pair of white boots.
James and Amy, clutched at each other, frozen with fear.  They watched the boots walk towards them, step by step as the mannequin at the table wept tears.
A bright yellow cardigan fell onto James’ shoulders and the pair of white flares hit the floor at his feet.  The boots were next to Amy now; she thought perhaps they weren’t so bad.  They might look nice with her black mini skirt.  She kicked off her sandals and put them on.

Half an hour later, Mr Jones the owner of the shop came upstairs.  Three mannequins sat around the table, the woman with the big hair, the man in the white flares and yellow cardigan and the girl in a black mini skirt and high white boots.

“Oh,” he said, “how lovely.  Still three empty chairs though.”