Pay it forward

Making the first move was going to take a momentous act of courage

For years, I’ve believed in the pay-it-forward concept – that if we are shown small acts of kindness, we should do something kind for someone else. But sometimes small acts aren’t enough, and something seismic has to happen. This was the case with the young man and woman who’d caught my attention…

It was day one of my new job when I first clocked them both exiting the supermarket with a small trolley each. Her eyes darted to his, his to hers, as if they were watching tennis. Their glowing cheeks were accompanied with embarrassed smiles.

My new job wasn’t glamorous, and certainly not one I thought I’d enjoy – but I did. My Frank had been right. When I’d seen the advert on the supermarket noticeboard for a car-park supervisor, Frank had said, ‘Why don’t you give it a try, Angela?’ and I’d huffed and puffed a bit.

I was looking for an office job as a receptionist or the like – something to do now that the triplets had flown the nest. I wasn’t sure I’d like standing out in the rain, but nothing else came up, due to my having been at home with the kids for so long. So, to avoid upsetting Frank, I applied.

On my first day, it was a rainy, cold March morning. Spring hadn’t even peeked through the winter chill, and my glasses were steamed up from the drizzle. I was regretting my decision to take the job when a mum with two youngsters parked up, rushing to get to the school opposite. As I strolled over. the mum’s face dropped.

‘Can’t I park here? I’ll only be a minute. We’re late… as usual,’ she panted.

Remembering the school runs, when getting the triplets to school for 8.50am seemed an impossible task, I retrieved the children’s rucksacks from the car and helped the kids put them on. ‘Just get going,’ I said, and she smiled. ‘Thanks, you’re a lifesaver.’ From then on, I realised my job wasn’t about parking, patrolling or managing numbers in and out – it was about kindness. I’d do all I could to brighten the lives of shoppers. I was the car-park receptionist, helping customers park in tight spots, and guiding them into the shop. I swapped pound coins for trolleys and helped the elderly load their goods, while exchanging pleasantries.

When I first saw the young man and woman, I’d thought they were a couple, flushed with first love, but, as the weeks passed, I realised they were strangers who’d shared a moment – a fabulous girl-meets-boy moment.

When I told the triplets about them, they’d laughed.

‘Mum, no-one meets in real life any more,’ Becky said. ‘Everyone’s on Tinder now. True love’s just a swipe away.’

I must have screwed up my face because Becky continued in her pained,

patient voice that she uses for old people.

‘It’s an app. You know – a programme on your phone to help you find a match? Swipe right for yes, and left to pass.’

I didn’t know anything about apps, but I did know what tinder was – a material that sets alight easily, something that sparks. There was no denying the spark between my young shoppers…

‘IF NO-ONE ELSE WAS GOING TO TAKE CONTROL OF THE SITUATION, I WOULD’

I soon got to know customers’ tastes, their family size and whether they were single by their trolley contents.

The couple, who I’d named ‘Sarah’ and ‘Tom’, were both single. They’d shop on a Thursday evening. Sarah would arrive first and loiter until she saw Tom driving towards the supermarket. Then she’d rush inside, all of a fluster. Thursday after Thursday, I watched them doing a complicated dance of nervous laughter, returned smiles, waves, nods and polite exchanges about the weather.

I tried to speed up their courtship by directing Tom to the empty space nearest to Sarah’s car. Once I even engineered it so that Tom gave his empty trolley to Sarah on his way out. Finally, I decided that if no-one else was going to take control of the situation, I would. ‘Mum,’ said Becky, ‘don’t meddle!’ I told her about how my boss had intervened between me and her dad by contriving to send us both to the same conference together.

‘If not for him, you three might never have been born!’ I said emphatically.

‘And if he hadn’t interfered, I’d have had an easy life,’ Frank grinned.

He didn’t mean it and, after 25 years, I still loved him. I’d never repaid my boss’ momentous act of kindness. Maybe now was the time?

It was a bitterly cold Thursday in December when I decided to take action. I wrote a note and left it under one of Sarah’s windscreen wipers while they shopped. I wasn’t sure whether it was the right thing to do or not, but I held my nerve and scribbled: ‘I’ve been wondering for some time if you wanted to go on a date with me?’

These were the words neither of them seemed capable of saying.

Butterflies fluttering in my stomach, I struggled to chat to old Mrs Price as I loaded her shopping into her car while waiting for Sarah and Tom to appear.

After a while, they emerged, chatted by the trolley park, then drew apart and headed to opposite ends of the car park. I moved closer to Tom’s car and watched, heart pounding, while he loaded his shopping and returned his trolley. Then he was in the driver’s seat, his engine running, his reverse lights on.

Where was Sarah?

Just as he was manoeuvring forward, she materialised, jogging, a piece of paper in her hand and an enormous smile on her face.

‘Where are you going?’ She leant through his driver’s window. ‘You didn’t think I’d say no, did you?’

Tom looked lost for words.

I positioned myself in his view so only he could see me. I mimicked writing a note before pretending to shove it under the wipers of a nearby car. I tapped my index fingers together to indicate he and Sarah should go out.

His car was blocking the exit route, stopping other shoppers from leaving the car park, but as this was to be the finale to my efforts, I wasn’t about to interfere any more now.

‘I thought you’d never ask,’ Sarah gushed. ‘Of course I’ll go out with you!’

I tried to indicate to Tom that he should say nothing about me having written the note, but my acting skills weren’t up to the job. Tom gaped at me. ‘I thought you weren’t interested,’ Sarah continued.

She was one of those people who talked a lot when they were nervous. ‘I mean… I could have asked you, but nerves got the better of me…’

A horn blasted out from among the growing queue. Then another.

‘Sorry,’ I said to Tom walking closer. ‘Can you move your car? You’re blocking the exit.’

My words galvanised him into action. ‘Why not come for a drink now?’ he said to Sarah. ‘It’s colder than a fridge, so your food will be OK in the car for a while.’ He winked at me. ‘Even if we go over the two hours’ free parking.’

She hopped into his car happily, and they were off.

The following Thursday, they came in together, as they did for the next six months. We’d chat, but neither Tom nor Sarah said anything about the note. But then, one day, they were gone. I missed them, partly because I hated to think my matchmaking hadn’t worked, partly because I wasn’t able to gloat to the triplets about how people still meet in real life, but mostly because I missed having a little romance in my life, albeit vicariously.

One summer’s day, 18 months on, Tom and Sarah (or Ian and Rachel as I was to discover they were really called) came marching over in the car park.

‘We hoped you’d still be here,’ she said. ‘We’d like you to come to our wedding…’ ‘Your wedding? Really?’

‘If it hadn’t been for you,’ he added, ‘we’d still be stood in front of the supermarket doing a right merry dance…’

The wedding was a roaring success. I was mentioned in the speeches, but best of all was Frank swirling me round the dance floor like the days of old!

‘They look so happy,’ Frank observed, as we rested.

‘We were like that,’ I said. ‘Aren’t we still?’ He looked anxious. ‘You know what I mean. They don’t just love each other. They’re in love.’

This obviously gave Frank something to think about because, the next day, I came home to find a bunch of flowers on the windowsill.

Nearly two years ago, when I wrote that note paying forward my boss’ act of kindness, I hadn’t bargained on the rebound effect. By helping young love’s spark, I’d also revived our flame.

You might be able to swipe right for love nowadays, but it’s the slowerburning flame that can be rekindled from time to time that’s important. It’s what Frank and I have. And something I hope Ian and Rachel do, too.

THE END

‘I MISSED HAVING A LITTLE ROMANCE IN MY LIFE, ALBEIT VICARIOUSLY’