The lights inside the supermarket were bright, in stark contrast to the frowning dark sky, heavy with unshed rain.  People appeared in the aisles from nowhere, as if drawn by the lights and warmth to shelter from inclement weather.

Distracted by the sudden increase in activity, Jane gave up pretending to be shopping with any clear purpose, and watched for a while, interested to see how others coped with the mesmerising effect of so many goods to be thought about and chosen. Trolleys rolled down the aisles, some driven with determination and clear direction, focussed on getting finished and out. Others, like her, meandered along each section, stopping to stand and stare - usually in the most inconvenient place and, more irritatingly, completely unaware of it.  Children ran ahead of their distracted parents, clung to the trolley dragging their heels, or screamed with temper at being refused their insatiable demands, blocking the aisles even more effectively than the meandering trolleys.  Pensioners inched along, not only because of physical slowness but also in order to find the best bargains, to save important pennies, and if the truth be known, for the fun of it. It must be quite satisfying, to be in a frame of mind where you can hold everybody up and not care about it - indeed, enjoy it. Like the bin men, as cars bank up in outraged impotence behind the lorry.

Coming to from her reverie Jane saw that she had to all intents and purposes been gazing in fierce concentration at a shelf full of different brands and species of salt. Slightly embarrassed, she pushed some straying hair back from her forehead and glanced around to see if anyone was looking. Though why they should notice a slightly faded woman in her early forties, camouflaged by her brown coat and natural habitat, or care that she was in a dilemma over salt, she could not for one minute imagine.  

 

Perhaps they could have fish for dinner. Relieved that she had a goal, she rolled along to the fish counter, and pulled up short as she reached the pungent smell. She gazed in despair at the slab full of wet, shiny fish of all shapes and sizes. This was much worse than the salt.

 

Pushing her hair back and massaging her forehead, she frowned in concentration.  Maybe they could try something different - she so wanted to be the kind of person who could try something different. But then that kind of person would probably not be hostage to the varied demands of a family, demands that had lately begun to overwhelm her. All her own fault she supposed, but that was hardly a comfort. She knew that hidden somewhere inside her was a Jane fit for a Tarzan, powerful, able to prevail in any situation;  and one day she would find her. Meanwhile....Jane heard the man behind the counter ask, with courteous impatience, if he could help her, and she gradually became aware of a long line behind her showing signs of restless muttering. Mortified she quickly settled on the cod, not daring to delay any longer by asking for it to be skinned as usual. She took the cold slippery parcel with muttered thanks, and hurried away.

 

An agreeable exchange with a like-minded woman over some attractive crockery lifted her spirits a little. Walking towards the warm yeast smell of the bakery she started to feel better. The dark glass of the shop windows threw back her reflection as she passed, and she paused for a minute to look, as if at a stranger. Who was this woman, unremarkable in size and shape? Her features were pleasant enough, though somewhere along the way she seemed to have gained a rather haunted look, and a permanent frown between her once mild brown eyes. Even her small straight nose looked pinched, as if she had lost the ability to take in air, to expand. Strangely though, her mouth, full lipped and generous belied this; when she was in the mood, an easy smile and laugh could dispel all the tightness and return her to the lighter Jane of a previous life.

 

She breathed in the warm comfort of baking bread and applied herself to choosing a loaf. Buoyed by her sense of a former self, of a Jane fit for Tarzan, she moved decisively now. Warm, fragrant bread tucked in the trolley, she walked quickly to the sharp scent of the fruit and vegetables aisles. The floor looked as if a hurricane had hit. Now it was raining fiercely outside, and wet footmarks glistened in the light of the shop. Bits of vegetables and peel added to the slippery hazard, as well as whole fruit that had been dropped by impatient customers looking for perfection.

 

Jane made no attempt to get "something different" here - now she just wanted to get home, feeling nauseous at the amount of unwanted goods she had accrued, and the time she had spent meandering. Blindly, she threw the usual stuff into the trolley, not bothering to weigh it, happy to pay whatever ransom was demanded to get out of there.

 

The queues were impossibly long, but she took herself into passive mode again, waiting with a blank look, gazing into space. At least, she congratulated herself, she had got everything for once. It was much better just to go and get things, and not worry too much about it. She always worried too much - some might call her obsessional. She called herself careful, but one could nonetheless be too careful.

 

As she packed her things into bags she realised with a sinking heart that she had after all forgotten the salt. One day, she would be able to face it out, apologise prettily to those waiting behind, and go deftly to get it.  Today she could not face yet another muttering line, which would only panic her into further indecisiveness. She meekly paid the bill and left, lacking one of the few items that had actually been on her shopping list.