Sandhamn, 27 July 2009

He ran the produce past the scanner, the beep-beep-beeps like a meditation as the customers shuffled forwards in the queue, one after another. It was the end of July and he hadn’t moved from here all day, his body stiff from standing, his mind numbed to the monotony of repeating the same words on a loop. ‘Do you have a loyalty card?’; ‘Do you need a box?’; ‘Would you like a token?’; ‘Thank you, please come again.’

‘It’s good discipline,’ his father had said.

‘Thank you, please come again . . . Hello.’

Schnapps. Fizzy cola bottles. Cigarettes. Durex –

He looked up automatically, and she smiled back at him. ‘Hi.’

‘Hi.’ He looked down again, away, unable to maintain a gaze with those blue eyes. He felt like he’d been zapped with an electric current. The air suddenly felt thick, like a duvet; he could scarcely breathe through it. ‘Do you have a loyalty card?’ His voice was strange too.

‘No.’

He kept his eyes on the produce, the scanner beeping like a heart monitor. Regular. Rhythmic. ‘Will you be coming here frequently this summer?’

‘. . . I hope so.’

‘Then a loyalty card would be beneficial for you.’

‘Okay.’ He heard the smile in the word, though he didn’t dare look back at her again.

‘I’ll need to ask you to fill this in.’ He reached under the counter and pulled out one of the forms. He got a commission for every new loyalty account he bagged, but it wasn’t percentages on his mind right now. ‘You need to put your name and address there, and your telephone number there.’

Her eyes met his. ‘Right here? Where it says name, address and number?’

He looked down again. She was teasing him. ‘Ah, you’re cute,’ she said quietly, like it was a secret, writing her details in clear handwriting, the pink tip of her tongue peeking out through her teeth as she wrote.

She handed it back. ‘There. Can you read it okay? It’s important you can see my details clearly.’

‘Thanks, they’re clear.’ He scarcely had to look at it to commit it to memory. ‘That’s two hundred and forty-nine kroner, seventy. Do you need a box?’

Her smile grew as she handed over the money. ‘Just a little one, please.’

He found one that the gum had been packed in.

‘Thank you.’

He could feel her staring at him. ‘Do you want a token?’ he asked, handing back her change and managing to avoid eye contact.

There was a slight hesitation, then she leaned in towards him, her hands pressed flat on the conveyor belt. ‘I think I want you to call me,’ she whispered.

‘Why?’

She laughed and as his eyes flickered up to hers, just for a moment, he felt the electric shock again. ‘You know why.’

He watched her pick up her shopping and walk towards the door. ‘Thank you, please come again . . .’ he croaked, checking the form in his hands. ‘Hanna.’