“Patrick! Good
morning.”
Patrick turned
and recognised Mr Amsel from the German café across the way, waving at him.
Next to the elderly shopkeeper, a wiry young man straightened up from where
he’d been crouching beside a pile of boxes. He was also smiling. Patrick waved
back at them both. The community spirit among his fellow traders was one of the
best things in his life nowadays. The young man, Curtis, was a regular supplier
and odd-job man for all of the businesses around here, and Patrick made a
mental note to chat to him about replacement tablecloths. Lee had suggested a
funkier design, to match a range of ice cream flavours based on musical styles
that Patrick was working on at the moment. And if anyone couldWith A Kicklater on for a mug of tea and a ‘Pluck and
Play’, his favourite ice. He’d talk to him then.
He glanced back down
the road, where the With A Kickshop-front light had just flickered on.