Plan B

Chapter Ten

Fran regretted not pausing to grab her coat on the way out.  Shivering in the chilly air, she dug in her satchel for a scarf and her cigarettes.  She’d only managed to have three that morning before Phil had turned up to take her to her house, and she was worried her voice was going to make it obvious.

Lighting it quickly and tucking the lighter and her spare hand into her jeans pocket, she took a drag and tried to saunter casually down the street.

It’s freezing.  She shivered.

It had taken her a while to get used to smoking.  She’d had the occasional fag when hanging out with her brother’s gang, but it wasn’t until the beginning of summer, when she’d first begun hatching her plan to run away, that she’d made herself start chain smoking.

It’s so expensive, too.  With a sigh, Fran removed her cigarette from her mouth and turned the corner.  But since I can’t really keep up the screaming exercises without people thinking I’m a freak, I have to smoke like a chimney instead.  I don’t know how addicts manage.

She stopped at the local corner shop to stock up on more cigarettes before hopping on a bus towards the town centre.  It was barely ten to four, and all the shops were going to be open for at least another hour.

I can get myself a warm jumper or something and some junk food and then head back.  Don’t want Megan or Phil to freak out.

The bus deposited her outside a large shopping centre and Fran immediately headed for Monsoon before realising that she’d have to get boys’ clothes.

Gah.  What’s fashionable but cheap for a guy to wear?  I don’t think I actually know.  She tugged on the neck of her t-shirt, which she’d requisitioned from her brother before going to Darkwood, and strained her eyes, trying to catch sight of the label.  Too far round.  Darn.

Biting her lip, Fran scanned the shops she could see, and then headed for an information board twenty paces away with a map.  There was a large list of shops underneath, each numbered and with the corresponding number allocated to a room on the map.  Fran skimmed the list, but there were very few places that jumped out as being obvious to go to for men’s clothes.  She dug out her phone.

Yo, Fred, where do you go shopping for clothes? she sent to her brother, sticking her tongue out of the corner of her mouth as she tried unsuccessfully to gain inspiration from the map.

Her phone vibrated and she glanced down to see that her brother had replied unusually fast.

A clothes shop, maybe?

Unfortunately, his reply was useless.

Yes, but which ONE, woodhead?

You fail at insulting people, bro ;)

FREDERIC.  I AM NOT IN THE MOOD.

Okay, okay.  The phone buzzed twice in quick succession.  What kind of budget are you looking for?

I want a nice jumper or coat or something warm, and I’m not spending more than fifty quid.

There was a long pause.

Try Primark? Freddie suggested.  M&S?  Burton, maybe?  They sometimes have really nice stuff.  Or T K Maxx, if there’s one nearby.

Fran narrowed her eyes at the list of shops.  Burton and Primark weren’t there, but Marks and Spencers was a floor up and T K Maxx dominated most of the top floor.