CHAPTER ONE
It’s impossible to ignore the Shame Box. Five metres by five metres by five metres, the transparent cube squatted on the tarmac to one side of the supermarket entrance. This morning it was occupied. Olivia Pritchard unlocked her trolley and fought to push it in a straight line towards the store. Beside her Alice kept up a stream of small talk, her usual distraction technique. Olivia didn’t respond. It was all she could do to keep putting one foot in front of the other, her eyes drawn inexorably to the poor woman who sat hunched in the box. Please don’t let it be someone she knew. Other shoppers were gathered around the box. Watching. Judging. Two little boys banged on the glass, leaving small, smeared handprints behind. Olivia winced. This was no place for children. Where were their parents?
The woman inside the Shame Box didn’t look up. She just sat there, clutching the string of pearls around her neck, her fingers moving the beads like a rosary.
Olivia faltered but Alice reached out a candy-pink manicured hand and propelled the trolley forward. ‘Come on,’ she said. She nodded towards the two men in dark suits standing by the sliding doors. Customer Service Agents. Motionless except for their eyes, they scanned the shoppers, their gaze never settling for long. If you were lucky.
Steps heavy with familiar lethargy, Olivia felt the prickling sensation of being watched, but Alice wouldn’t let her slow. They passed through the body scanner and entered the fluorescent glare of the supermarket. Alice stopped to get a basket, and without her friend’s guiding hand Olivia struggled to regain control of the trolley. She had to pull it to an abrupt halt. The other shoppers streamed past her, slipping into the carefully designed flow of the store. The Customer Service Agents were still by the door, ramrod straight, dominating and oppressive. Olivia forced herself to look away, to go through the routine of checking her shopping list. Unfold the paper, read it, reread it. Make sure everything was there. She needed all the usuals: fruit, vegetables, a box of bran flakes, some brown rice, a tin of No Sugar, No Salt Baked Beans. Nothing exciting, not any more. Shopping for food wasn’t what it used to be. ‘Ready?’ Alice asked. ‘Let’s get this over with.’ Together, they followed the shoppers towards the fresh fruit and vegetables. The produce was arranged in
a rainbow of neat rows, the grown-up alternative to a sweet shop. Serene, smiling shoppers reached through the mist of dry ice to retrieve bunches of spinach, heads of broccoli and shiny, bright peppers. They held each non-rationed item aloft, just for a second, to ensure the overhead cameras captured a clear image.
Alice stopped by the exotic fruit and reached up with ease to take a mango from the top shelf. Olivia stretched up on tiptoe, hopping to keep her balance. Why did they have to put them so high? Always at the back of the shelf. As her fingertips brushed against a smooth, curving fruit, a draught on her back made her jump. She stopped to pull her top down, hiding the expanse of stretch-marked skin. Hopefully, nobody had noticed.
‘Here, let me,’ Alice said. Alice, who never seemed to struggle with anything, ever. Life was so much easier if you were five-nine and gorgeous.
Their next stop was the demonstration table in the centre of the fresh produce section. The shop assistant was midexplanation, her face lit up with enthusiasm as she chattered to the shoppers gathered around her.
‘This simple lettuce can be transformed in just a few short steps.’ The assistant held up a pale green head of lettuce. ‘It’s delicious fast food, guaranteed to make you feel fantastic.’ She sliced it, knife flashing under the bright lights. The audience watched in silence. One woman had her phone out, making notes on everything the assistant said. Olivia reached for her handbag; it might be a good idea to do the same.
‘It’s so versatile, you can combine it with any of the fresh vegetables available in store,’ the assistant said. ‘Like these beautiful tomatoes.’ She held up two large, round tomatoes and received a collective ‘ooo’ from the crowd.
Alice snorted and Olivia turned her head just a fraction to glare at her. Not now, please not now. Thankfully, nobody else seemed to have noticed, their expressions remained pleasantly blank. Their polite English reserve had become their strongest survival skill.
‘This is Mother Mason’s favourite salad and we have the ingredients on special offer today. All you need to do is slice…’
Alice leaned closer to Olivia. ‘Please, it’s a salad. If it’s green, chop it up and throw it in a bowl. Can we go already?’
Olivia tilted her head back a fraction. Directly above them was a small black dome mounted on the ceiling, the little red light watching and recording everything.