Chapter 4

“What happened to Mrs Clause's dinner?
It was stollen!”
The groans amongst the bakery staff were audible. Ellie was only ten minutes into her overtime shift, and Habib was already on his fifth joke. He was on top form, barely looking down at the cookies he was packaging as he spoke. 
“What is Santa's favourite type of bread?” Habib paused for effect, even though everyone around him was trying not to listen. “Ho-Ho-Hovis!”
“Alright, Habib,” said Xana. “We’ve heard enough.”
“If you lot don’t like my cheesy jokes, then you must be laughtose intolerant!” he scoffed in triumph. 
“Thanks for covering Anna’s shift,” said Pat, ignoring Habib in the hope he would give in. “She’s been desperate to see Alanis Morissette for months now.”
“My pleasure,” said Ellie. She enjoyed the warm, fuzzy feeling she felt when helping a colleague out. And the extra cash was always welcome. “To be honest, it’s nice to have a little change of scenery. I love working on grocery and all, but it’s always nice to broaden your horizons.”
“Most people try travelling,” said Xana, then paused, catching herself. “Sorry, that came across ruder than I intended. I was meaning that most people I’ve heard say that are talking about travelling.”
Ellie smiled, weakly, trying to cover how much Xana’s words hurt. “I’m not really one for travelling,” she admitted. “I’ve never actually been abroad.”
Xana (not very successfully) stifled a scoff. Pat threw her a strong stern scowl, and said, “If you don’t want to travel, then who are we to judge?” She threw Xana another look for good measure.
“Have you done much travelling, Xana?” Ellie asked. 
“Too much,” said Xana, and her own response gave her pause for thought. “And I’m really quite happy to stay where I am for as long as I can,” she reflected. “York’s a wonderful place to live; be happy that you’re here.”
Despite her initial comment, Ellie appreciated Xana’s honesty. York was where she had grown up, lived her formative years, and experienced her most treasured memories. Everything she wanted was in the city: her job, her friends, and her home. While it saddened her to think that her parents were no longer around to make the list, she hoped one day to start a family of her own, and patch over the gaping hole in her life. 
Something moved near the entrance of the bakery, drawing her eyes over quickly. By the shelving baskets, overstocked with fresh loaves, someone was hovering, trying to be noticed, yet hiding her features at the same time. If the identity of the ‘mysterious’ figure wasn’t already public knowledge to everyone who worked at Freshfields, she might have taken an interest. 
As if on cue, Habib finished packing his pack of cookies, took off his apron and hat, and walked over to the exit. As he approached, the clandestine figure skulked away, out of view. 
“I don’t know why they keep up the pretense,” said Pat, shaking her head. 
“What pretense?” asked Xana. 
Ellie leaned in close, fearful of being overheard. “Habib and Carol. They’ve been together for a few months now.”
“And everyone knows?” Xana shook her head. “What are they scared of?”
Ellie shrugged. “The Freshfield handbook? Technically colleagues aren’t allowed to date, but I doubt Gary would mind, so long as everyone got along.”
“We’re talking about Carol here, remember,” said Pat with a smile. 
Ellie laughed audibly, then caught herself. “I don’t know what you mean, Pat.”
Xana walked away with a tray of fresh bagels. Ellie supposed she wasn’t one to talk about others behind their back. The thought didn’t sit well with Xana, as generally neither was she, but where Carol was concerned, any way to get one over on her felt good. 
“Are you finished with that mix, love?” asked Pat. 
Ellie looked down at the bowl in front of her. “I think so,” she said. “I did everything the recipe card said.”
“Chuck an extra handful of sugar in,” Pat said with a wink. “When it’s baked it’ll be a little bland otherwise.” 
Ellie frowned. “But that isn’t the recipe.” The thought of going off script unsettled her.  
“Think about the customers, Ellie, not what the company tells you.” Pat walked over to Ellie, grabbing a bowl of sugar from a nearby shelf of ingredients. Ellie held up a hand to protest, but Pat nevertheless grasped a handful of sugar and threw it in the mixing bowl. 
“You shouldn’t have done that, Pat,” said Ellie. “What if Gary found out?”
“Then he should thank me for giving our customers a better experience.” Pat smiled to reassure her. “Now you get that thing in the oven, and get Xana back here while you’re at it. We’ve got a lot to get done, and if Habib doesn’t get back soon, we’re going to fall behind.”
“Where are the ovens?” Ellie asked. 
“The back room,” said Pat, with a signalling nod.
Ellie grabbed the bowl and headed past several racks of oven trays, accidentally nudging one as she walked past. The caster wheels on their base started a chain reaction, sending them rolling out in all directions. Ellie froze, scared of them hitting her and sending the mixing bowl crashing to the floor. 
“Those bloody trays!” Pat called after her. “Habib is always forgetting to put the brakes on the little menaces. Don’t worry about them, we’ll sort them when we need them, just get that thing in the oven.”
Ellie nodded and carried on towards the back room. It wasn’t long before she heard swearing, and soon saw Xana hunched over a scanner, smacking its side.
“Are you alright, Xana?” Ellie asked.
Xana spun around, as if caught in the middle of a crime. Seeing Ellie, she relaxed, huffed, and held up the scanner. “These damn things don’t make any sense,” she said.
“If you’ve got a defective one, just grab a new one,” said Ellie. “Gary brought in a huge consignment of them the other week, said that he wanted to make sure everyone had access to them so it didn’t affect their SPIMS score.”
Looking around, Ellie could spot at least four scanners in her immediate vicinity.
“I’d just rather not be using them at all,” grumbled Xana. “Machines should never be in charge of our lives.”
“You sound like you’re speaking from experience,” joked Ellie.
Xana seemed to tense up. She looked at Ellie like a deer in headlights. “Not at all,” she replied, awkwardly. 
Xana left the room in a hurry, leaving Ellie alone with her bowl of cake mix. Walking over to the oven, she placed it inside, tapping the SPIMS screen on the oven’s controls to select the right time and temperature for her mix. When she was done, she shut the oven door and headed back to the others.
On her way, the side door opened, and Habib stepped in, hastily tying up his apron. 
“Oh, hey,” he said once he noticed Ellie. 
“Hey.” Ellie smiled. 
Something made her glance through the door behind him, and she wished she hadn’t. Carol Baker was standing in the warehouse, hair ruffled. She and Habib had clearly had quite the encounter. The look Carol fired in her direction was akin to a nuclear winter. Ellie gulped instinctively and turned the other way, hoping that if she ignored the problem, it would go away.
“Ellie, come on!” called Pat from the shop floor. “These shelves won’t fill themselves!”
Ellie could feel her stress levels rising. All this on a shift she had volunteered for. Next time she would take Maddy’s advice and stay at home. 
With slumped shoulders, Ellie headed back towards the others, longing for the shift to end. 

Next Aisle: Chapter 5