Gwen liked the Tesco’s on Briar’s End. It had five exits, evenly spaced, and she knew where all the security cameras were.
She had her Phase 0 credit card on her, the one with her real name. This was the one she used when she knew and grudgingly accepted the authorities, conspirators and conspiracy theorists were watching her. The one she used when she was living, out of hiding, as Gwen Cooper, normal civilian.
The Phase 1 credit cards were the ones the authorities and interested persons were meant to know about without knowing they were meant to be known about. The ones that bought a train ticket to Edinburgh when she was really taking a ferry to Carlisle.
The ticket to Carlisle she bought with her Phase 2 cards.
Phase 3 cards were much the same, just waiting in reserve if the Phase 2 cards were ever compromised.
Lockdown had, with most things, made money so much more difficult. The no touching rule made living cash in hand next to impossible. Hence the addition of Phase 2 and 3 credit cards to their financial planning.
The tinned produce and dry foodstuffs made the bulk of her shopping. Everything with a buy one get one free, special offer, or half price label went into the trolley. Same with toiletries. The perishables were a luxury, and she left buying them until the end. What she was going to have for dinner, what pudding would she treat the family to, what magazines would she read in the bath to remind herself that in normal life, Prince Harry flying on a private jet to a lecture about climate change was weighty stuff.
The other thing Gwen liked about the Tesco’s on Briar’s End was that it was open plan. The walls were lined with produce, with just a few aisles in the centre. It was easy to step right inside and see everything that was there to be seen. It also meant Gwen was seen as well, but that was something she just had to live with.
To a noob, the young pair with hoodies pulled down over their faces, and thick gloves would be the first to raise suspicion. Gwen dismissed them out of hand. Too obvious, they kept tugging their hoods and hunching their shoulders. Wannabe shoplifters or kids skiving off.
Then there was the man in the flash suit and watch. An aberration in a Tesco’s in the shitty part of town. A gentleman assassin, perhaps, there to knock off a troublesome alien hunter who knew too much. Except the suit and watch were knock off designer, and he kept casually pulling at his cuffs to make sure everyone saw the fraudster Rolex. He wanted to be seen.
There was a third shopper. Blue shirt, grey trousers. No tie or blazer, but his collar was slightly askew, just as though he had torn a tie from his neck after a hard day’s work and left it in the car. Gwen kept watch of him from the corner of his eye, and did not go to the counter until he had purchased his pack of gum and Tesco’s’ brand scotch eggs and left.
Gwen geared herself up to begin her exiting manoeuvres. She strolled past Mr Flash, in his suit and watch and hipster haircut, and the hoodies with their shifty feet and gloved hands and greenish skin.
Greenish skin?
“The big letters say ‘gluten free’, that’s the one without wheat isn’t it?”
“Or is it a wheat substitute?”
“You were the one who was meant to read the guidebook.”
“Xanthor needed it to figure out the bus routes.”
“Well we gotta buy something. The distressed signal hasn’t been picked up yet, and even then there’s at least a four day wait.”
“Look, Zanadine, check the ingredients on the back.”
“They’re too squiggly, all these symbols. They’re doing my head in. Is that a four or a six?”
“It’s an eleven, I think.”
“Actually,” Gwen said, “it’s a percentage sign. And gluten means that there’s no wheat.”
The pair started, and looked at Gwen with wide, fearful, (triple) eyes.
Gwen smiled kindly back. “It’s ok, I won’t bite. What else do you need to avoid?”
Gluten was the main evil (it caused a rash and severe bloating) along with xylitol (it seemed their species was distantly related to the domestic dog.) Dairy, however, was to be encouraged, as long as it was eaten hot.
Gwen helped them fill their trolley, and pointed them to the wheat free pasta.
“If you’re only going to be on Earth for a little while, you had better sample the best it has to offer,” she whispered. “And to be honest, that’s pretty much mac and cheese.”
The aliens were nonplussed at having an Earthling appear so blase about their starry origins, but accepted Gwen’s help gratefully.
Once they had supplies enough to last them the next few days, Gwen helped them to pay, sorted out her own shopping, and quickly made her exit. She had lingered too long.
She cast one last look at the pair over her shoulder. Their bags were packed, but they were standing rather helplessly before the automatic door, trying to work up the courage to dodge through.
“Just walk away Gwen,” she told herself. “Just walk away. You’ve already helped them more than enough. It’s not your problem anymore.”
She sighed, cursed herself, and turned back round.
“Look, you two, do you and your mate need somewhere to be put up in for the next few days.”
Their eyes lit up, quite an impressive sight when it was in triple, and that was nearly enough to make up for whatever Rhys was going to say when they turned up on his doorstep.
Four weeks later, and the visit from their alien guests was just one of those things. That is, until Gwen received, via the television, a holographic message.
“Greetings Earthling Cooper” a flickering image of Zanadeen crackled from the middle of the living room carpet. “Apologies for the disruption to your television set. We wished to thank you for your hospitality, and this was the most reliable form of communication. In return for your kindness, we would like to offer you the same welcome you provided us. Our research tells us it is customary for Earthlings to take a summer recess, and as your presence in a tescos suggests that your recess is likely to be known as a ‘budget’ or ‘package’ holiday, it would be our pleasure to provide you the means with a more exotic location for your destination. Rest assured, the climate and atmosphere are safe and our landmarks and amenities are enjoyed regularly by 67th century humans. If you would care to accept such an offer, please press the seven on your television direction device, and hold it down for twenty six seconds.”
The hologram spluttered and died, and Gwen was left clutching the remote.
Two minutes ago, she had been watching Bargain Hunt.
Gwen knew she should say no. Such a plan was too risky, too fraught with pitfalls. The Gwen Cooper who had multiple credit cards and an emergency getaway bag and a secret set of licence plates even |Rhys didn’t know about was screaming at Gwen to refuse, to let things be.
The other Gwen Cooper, the Gwen Cooper who walked into a secret alien hunting base armed with nothing but a large margarita and a diet pepsi, was silent, but Gwen could feel her presence. Watching, waiting to see which path she would take.
Rhys strolled into the living room two minutes later. He flopped next to Gwen on the safe, and pecked her on the cheek.
“What’s up love?” he said, “you’re looking pretty proud of yourself.”
Gwen shrugged. “Oh, nothing much. I just booked our Summer Holiday, that’s all.”