• WATTYS 2022 WINNER •
When Iris Monet married millionaire Jared Darling, she had only one rule - that he could cheat on her with anyone except the household staff. This arrangement of theirs would have gone on quite happily if she hadn't caught him...
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IT'S Tuesday, and we've been tasked to help Anita with the shopping. I find myself following Akai through the busy crowds of Ryefair's village square.
I point at a cart. "What's that?"
"Greengages."
"And those?"
"Watercress."
"Ooo, what about those things?"
A most painstakingly patient pause. "Those are cabbages, Miss Iris."
Akai pulls out the list the housekeeper has given. "We should split up. I'll take the meat section down here, and you go to the fruit seller."
Folding the list in half, Akai pinches down the folded edge, then opens the paper and tears it neatly into two. He offers one half of it to me. "Think you can handle it, Miss Iris? Or did someone do your grocery shopping too, just like how they did the driving?"
The correct answer is why yes, someone did, thank you very much. Snatching the paper away from him, I hold my head up high. "Of course I can. Fruits, did you say? You got it."
I walk away. Akai clears his throat. "You'll find that you need money to buy stuff, Miss Iris."
I come back. He hands me several fifty-pound notes. I stride off. Akai clears his throat again.
"Fruit seller's the other way."
I stride back, refusing to make eye contact.
Ryefair's morning market starts as early as six and ends just before noon. Because the centre of the square is hogged by permanently erected shop buildings, the vendors line all the lanes going inside and out. As a result, traffic is constricted to one, single queue of human bodies, with absolutely no space for vehicles. I doubt even a motorbike can squeeze through, let alone a car.
I find myself press up against a shopping basket one second, and a block of cheese the next. Ten minutes in and I'm already sweating. Who knew grocery shopping could be a form of exercise?
I look down at the list. 1. Strawberries. That should be easy. I spy a strawberry seller and march up to him.
"Strawberries, please," I say, in a tone of much importance.
The seller nods. "Right you are, lass. How many punnets?"
I look down at the tiny containers.
"They're 400 grams each," the seller says helpfully.
"Right. Of course." I have no idea how that's supposed to factor in my decision-making. "Maybe ... six?"
"There you go. 9 pounds, please."
I pay him. Next on the list are cherries and ... tayberries? What on earth are tayberries?
"Need a little help there, Iris?" a familiar voice asks.
