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The place was well lit and, other than the actual contents, looked like any other store she'd ever been in.There were half a dozen people browsing around, and none of them gave her so much as a glance. She suddenly felt silly in her floppy hat and big sunglasses. Upon impulse, she removed them. She was surprised at how liberated that made her feel.Now the woman looked up at her."If you need any help finding anything, let me know," she said."Okay," said Claire, gratified that her voice sounded firm.She moved then, looking first at the wall on her left. It was literally covered with things packaged in plastic. She hit the jackpot within twenty or so feet, where she saw penis-shaped objects of every size and color. It was like being in that candy store in the mall, where it would take hours just to examine everything they offered.She stifled a giggle as the word "flavored" leapt off one plastic container at her.Her mood turned from apprehensive to fascinated. All the objects arrayed in. They sounded like a bunch of old buffers in starched collars and pinstriped three-piece suits. Or perhaps they were braying twits with pigtails.She refused his efforts to help her with her baggage. And when she had gone five yards, and had to put the suitcase down because the handle was cutting into her fingers; he tried to help again and he was in the way. "It's all right," she insisted, lugging the case to a wheeled luggage trolley and steering it erratically into the station concourse. "You'd better move your car before that traffic warden puts a sticker on it."And by the time Russ had persuaded the officious jobsworth female in the peaked cap that he was stopping only for the purposes of picking up or setting down of legitimate and bona fide ticket-holding rail travellers, the London train had been and gone, bearing Claire on her way to Parsifal, Renfrew, Garbutt, Mountfitchett and Pryce, and Si and Rumbold and Cindy, the twins and Bogdanov. And everything. I'll call you."How'd.
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