The Shooting in the Shop Read Free Page B

a row of matching shop fronts, pillared by
red brick and with a residential flat over each one.
    When originally completed, the shops had had
their names fitted into a strip above their windows,
all co-ordinated in identical lettering that looked like
– but probably wasn’t – brass. Continuous shifts of
ownership and corporate branding meant that most
of the original signs had gone. Only the Post Office
retained its brass lettering, though beneath it the part
that dealt with postal services was now just a tiny
corner of a large convenience store.
    Over other frontages were displayed the logos ofthe chain that ran the local bookies and of Allinstore
(probably the most inefficient supermarket since
records began), signs for Polly’s Cake Shop, Urquhart
& Pease and another estate agent (both apparently
riding out the slump in house prices), the hairdresser’s
Marnie, three charity shops and a couple of
other premises which seemed to change hands every
six months.
    Amongst these last was Gallimaufry, which had
opened early in September with champagne, balloons
and a lot of local press coverage. It was a shop whose
contents intrigued Jude, but were dismissed by
Carole (who’d never been inside the place) as ‘overpriced
rubbish’.
    The word ‘gallimaufry’ had culinary origins,
describing a dish made of odds and ends of leftovers,
but soon came to be applied to any kind of hotchpotch
or mix of unlikely elements. And the word was
certainly apt for the stock in the store on Fethering
Parade. What appealed to Jude about the place was
that she never knew what she might find there. It
wasn’t a dress shop, though there might well be some
Indian print shifts on display. It wasn’t a furniture
shop, though it sometimes sold intricately carved
stools and tables from Africa. Gallimaufry didn’t
specialize in any particular lines, and yet it was the
kind of Aladdin’s Cave where anything might be discovered.
    The Aladdin’s Cave parallel was emphasized as they
entered the shop that December morning. Stock items
were draped from hooks and hangers, intertwinedwith strings of fairy lights. Large candles in sconces
higher up the walls made the scene even more exotic
(and prompted in Carole sour thoughts about health
and safety risks). The effect was studiedly casual, that
apparently random set-dressing which could only be
achieved by meticulous preparation.
    If the pot luck element in shopping at Gallimaufry,
the fact that she never knew what she would
find there, was what appealed to Jude, the very same
quality was what had kept Carole away from the place
until that Friday morning. She reckoned there was
quite enough imprecision in life without going out of
one’s way to discover it. Carole Seddon liked to have
things cut and dried.
    Of course, the success of a shop like Gallimaufry
would always depend on the mind behind it. An
eclectic buying policy was not necessarily good news,
and the retail trade was littered with businesses that
had gone belly-up because their premises were filled
with stuff that nobody wanted to buy.
    But the mind behind Gallimaufry appeared to be
a shrewd one. A careful analysis of the requirements
of Fethering consumers had been conducted and,
rather than filling a single large niche, the new store
had aimed for many small niches.
    Though the village had its less salubrious area –
rather appositely called ‘Downside’, some ill-maintained
roads of former council housing to the north – Fethering
was, generally speaking, quite well-heeled. The
bungaloid straggle of interlocking villages between
Worthing and Littlehampton, nicknamed locally the‘Costa Geriatrica’, contained many people who had
retired on good pensions (in the days when there
were still good pensions to retire on). Even with a
recession looming, there was plenty of spare cash in
the Fethering area. The skill for a retailer was to get
its owners to part with