The Prediction: A Novel by Darren Sugrue

Author:Darren Sugrue [Sugrue, Darren]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2014-01-16T00:00:00+00:00

41

Claire decided today would be the day. She would do something with Max’s room. Or at the very least discuss it with John. Too many awkward silences filled the house. It was time to put a stop to it. After she showered and dressed, she had a quick bowl of muesli and yoghurt, and jumped on bus number 37 to the city centre.

Hopping off at Lower Ormond Quay, she walked around the corner to Capel Street. After a five minute walk, she reached the entrance to the St Vincent de Paul charity shop. It was a small pokey building with a large sign saying simply “Vincent’s”. Faceless male and female mannequins stood in the window, showing off the latest fashion in second hand clothes. Surprisingly enough, the clothes they wore seemed to be in mint condition.

Taking a deep breath Claire entered. A musty scent that differed from regular shops hung in the air. A scent of a hundred households intermingled under one roof. A melting pot of family aromas. It was like walking into someone’s garage or attic, or the house of a grandparent who had stopped throwing things away fifty years previously.

She scanned the shop. It was long, stretching back a good twenty metres. It was bigger than it looked from the outside. A cashier counter stood midway, behind which there was a woman scribbling something on a piece of cardboard.

The shop was predominantly full of clothes. To the right, Claire could see the children's section; a combination of clothes of all shapes and sizes. There were also shelves full of toys and random games. She recognised some of the games from her own childhood: Hungry Hungry Hippos, Fibber, Operation.

Her eye fell on a red football jersey hanging in the kids' section. Walking closer to it, she could see the small yellow Manchester United emblem. The main letters on the front said: AON. She had no clue what “AON” was. She turned it around and saw the name “Giggs” printed on the back, just above the number “11”. She had heard of Giggs, but couldn’t picture the player. The jersey was in good condition; a little faded, but would easily do a little boy for a year or two. Yes, it would have easily fitted Max.

I’ve got to stop doing this to myself.

She continued wandering around the shop. She walked by a clothes rail of men's suits and jackets. Some of them were like the one in the front window - almost mint condition and actually quite modern-looking. Others were more shabby and just begging to be bought. They would probably be snatched up at Halloween by those who wanted to dress up as Jack the Ripper or some other morbid character. These were the types of suits that you wouldn't actually mind throwing some fake blood onto, or spilling beer down the front, depending on the time of night.

Out of curiosity, she felt the material of one of the modern jackets. She picked up the sleeve and glanced at the price tag.

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