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I watch as Fred rummages around in a cardboard box on the floor and pulls out a blue nylon overall which he holds out towards me with a grunt when he finally manages to stand upright. I think the effort of bending over with his huge stomach in the way has taken it out of him. I take the overall from him and find that even holding it in my hands is unpleasant; I can smell the chip fat emanating from it and it feels greasy to the touch. I’m pretty certain that someone else has worn it before me and that it hasn’t been washed. I don’t consider myself an overly fussy person and I may wear the same clothes everyday but they are always clean. My clothes may look exactly the same – and they are, because I buy the same items several times over – but they’re fresh on every day. Mimi’s neglect when I was a child has ensured that since I’ve been old enough to fend for myself I cannot bear to wear dirty clothes or to be dirty. I can live very frugally but I cannot skimp on washing powder or shower gel; I just can’t do it. I no longer need to be frugal but it’s become such a habit that I can’t seem to shake it off. I stare down at the overall and wonder what I’m going to do; I have a real fear of putting it on over my clean clothes but I’m not going to refuse, am I? Because that would involve confrontation and I don’t do confrontation and also, if I refuse to wear it I won’t be able to do even one shift and the social might stop my benefits. ‘Put it on then, love, ‘cos we’re opening in ten minutes.’ Fred is staring at me with his arms stretched across his huge stomach and he’s frowning. He’s not wearing an overall but has a once-white, now grey, massive cotton apron stretched around his middle. It looks like he’s been wearing it for years and has never washed it. The dirt has given it an almost leather-like appearance and for the first time I notice his fingernails. I feel myself about to gag. His nails are long with black dirt ingrained underneath them; to think that I ate from this chip shop for years and never noticed how filthy he is. He coughs and I can hear the phlegm rattle in his throat. Eager to get away from him in case I puke, I slip my arms into the overall and pull it around me and do up the buttons on the front. I’ll have to wear it but it’ll be going straight into the washing machine on a very hot wash when I get home tonight. Fred has already told me that there will only be two of us working behind the counter tonight as the third assistant is off sick. I’m hoping that the person I’m working with will be someone old. I find that generally, older people are more accepting of me and less likely to make me the butt of their jokes. Not always, but usually. Whoever it is, I won’t be working here for very long, a week at the most I should think, because as soon as I start messing everything up Fred will want rid of me. So even if my co-worker is okay with me to start with they won’t be when I start making mistakes and making their life more difficult with my thickness. I’m not looking forward to it and for the millionth time I curse Rachel and that stupid course. ‘I’ll introduce you to Tash and she’ll show you the ropes.’ Fred is staring at me and I realise I’ve been daydreaming. That’s okay; my blankness will add to the thicko persona. He lumbers through to the shop and I follow behind him. I tell myself that I’m not nervous but I’m lying to myself. My earlier bravado has vanished and I just want to get this shift over with so I can go home and put all of my clothes in the washing machine, put my pyjamas on and watch telly. ‘Tash,’ Fred booms. ‘This is Ellie, she’s the new starter and you’ll have to show her the ropes.’ Introduction made, Fred turns and brushes past me and goes back into the kitchen, leaving me to meet my new work-mate. The girl leaning against the fryer filing her nails stops mid-file and looks up and stares at me. Huge blue eyes appraise me and I stare back at one of the prettiest girls I’ve ever seen. Her perfect brows furrow slightly and I’m sure her eyes narrow as she takes in my appearance. I stand immobile like a lumpy, leaden statue. Just as I expected. She’s going to hate me.