And now I'm all confused. Still with the shopping thing? I mean seriously, what is this obsession with shopping? "I'm gonna testify against you," I tell him by way of testing the water.
"Fine, fine," he says. "Wha'ever de fille tinks is necessary. Bu' Remy needs some help to carry de groceries"
The only way he's gonna get away is if I can't testify. And the only way to stop me testifying is… "You aren't planning to kill me are you?" I ask as he drags me through the automatic doors. A woman who must be, like, seven stone overweight turns to stare at me. "It's a valid question," I tell her. She moves away. Too bad, otherwise I'd have told her both of our names and maybe my next of kin too.
"Merde fille, shu' up will you," he says swinging round to face me. I can tell he's upset even though he is talking in an undertone. I'm very perceptive like that. "Remy's no' goin' to kill you. You go ahead an' testify. Dat's fine. Remy DESERVES to ge' locked up. 'E's a terrible person. Okay, you happy now?" Having muttered all this he switches into French. It sounds like it's all abuse from where I'm standing, but like I said before languages aren't my strong point.
"I'm a little confused," I tell him my forehead furrowed.
He ignores this and drags me over to the trollies. "Push de shoppin' cart."
"Okay, when I said I was a little confused, I may have understated things a tiny little bit," I say.
"No kiddin' folle," he mutters grumpily. "You hold de handle and pull it out and den you push it in front of you. See. Like dat lady."
"Hey, don't call me that," I say. "And don't patronise me I know how to push a trolly." He smirks at me. I swear to God that man WANTS to get thumped.
"Do you WANT to get thumped?" I ask.
He blows out air and shrugs like he knows he deserves it and suddenly I feel terrible for hitting him. "You men'dat jus' now di'nt cha?" I ask "About bein' a terrible person and vat. You menn'it din'cha?" He doesn't say anything and nor do I. We both know the truth. Meekly I take the trolly.
"Vere's somefin' really bad happennin' isn' vere?" I ask as we head towards the vegetables.
"No' 'ere fille," he tells me, sounding tired.
"Nah, bu' seriously," I ask, "what's goin' off?"
"Remy'll explain. Scout's honour 'e will, but no' 'ere, okay, no' now, righ' now we need to do de shoppin' and Remy needs to focus." He is too, feeling peppers and inspecting onions. Weird. I just can't get excited about this sort of stuff. Food's food.
"I'm pretty sure it's an onion," I point out helpfully. He looks at me like I just announced the sky was orange.
"'Ow abou' if Remy buys you some cookies. Will you behave yourself den?" he asks me. Testy. I blow out a sigh.
"Only if I get to pick them," I say."You aren't palming me off with Oreos."
