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as long as he ate them all inside the shop. Nothing was allowed to be taken away.
“How many cakes was he able to eat?” asks NutJob.
“I’m not a boy! I might be able to eat three, perhaps four?”
“Ten? More than ten? The answer doesn’t matter,” says NutJob, “the point is and then what? How rich do you need to be? Once you have enough money, then what? HopAlong has probably done the maths. Does he need to work, does he need any more money?”
“I don’t know,” says KristalClear.
It’s not often that NutJob leads a conversation with KristalClear. She’s incredibly bright and she does well at school, although this time NutJob seems to know something that she doesn’t.
She looks puzzled and thoughtful at the same time.
She looks as if she’s about to speak again, but doesn’t actually know what to say. She’s blinking, her mouth is closed, her cheek muscles seem a little tense as she begins to clench her teeth. And then releases the tension by looking down. NutJob thinks she looks pensive and beautiful at the same time.
She looks up, with a poignant half smile which says something like say something nice to me.
He smiles at her, and with a crisp nod of the head asks, “do you want a cake? Let’s go to Chadwicks! I’ll buy you one … one mind … I can’t afford lots!”
—o—
At the south east corner of the Market Square, Chadwicks is the last shop which still has a frontage onto the square. It’s a traditional, old fashioned greengrocer and general store, with a tiny tea shop in one corner. It’s not trying to compete with the cafés, and it doesn’t have the same frontage rights, but is does have four tables in one corner. It’s popular with local workers and there’s always somebody sitting in the small confined space.
KristalClear and NutJob would rather have just a little more
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