“How much?" exploded the little red faced man.

"That will be £23.45" replied Francis, maintaining her award winning customer service voice at an even monotone.

Francis looked at the man and saw that his pupils were small and his lips seemed to have fallen into his mouth.

"But I've only got a cheese sandwich, a Calypso Hits for the Road cd and a tin of travel sweets! How can that be so much?”

Francis noticed the tremor in his hands as they wrung at his brown faux suede driving gloves. She had never quite understood what driving gloves were for but could see they would be useful to wring when stressed.

"That is what it comes to sir. Do you still want the items?"

She thought that perhaps he might have been quite nice looking once.

Francis worked in the WH Smith outlet at the junction 38 motorway services. She served all sorts of people, rarely were they at their best. They were tired, grumpy, hot, hungry, frustrated, late and never delighted with the extortionate prices. Francis felt for the little man, she really did. She had once had to pay a 24 hour car parking fee because she had lost her 3 hour ticket. She remembered the desire to smash something that she had felt at the time.

Francis knew however, that she couldn't afford to be sentimental. She had been sentimental once and had the scars to show for it. It was in December 1998, late evening. A Father Christmas had called in on his way back from a children's party in Swindon. He only wanted a bag of Minstrels, some apple juice and a Radio Times. The party hadn't gone well, he was exhausted, hot, and his beard was making him itch. Francis had wondered why he didn’t take it off. She told him the price and he started to cry, not sobbing, but just a little bit. Francis felt so sad, she placed her hand on his and said “perhaps you could just have a Twix?".

Santa raised his head slowly and looked her in the eye like he might have laser beams that he could emit. With lightning speed he whacked her around the side of her head with the Minstrels and ran off with them and the other items. The sharp edge of the Minstrels bag cut her cheek and she bled. She had to dress it with a plaster and go and sit down for 5 minutes.

Francis thought about this as she looked at the little red man. With his heavy brows and beard he reminded her of a Neanderthal she had seen in the museum. She fancied he could be violent.

"I'll leave the cd, just the sandwich and the travel sweets please" said caveman.

"Thank you sir, £9.65 please"

The man paid and walked dejectedly out to his car. Francis ran her fingers over the scar on her cheek and congratulated herself on dealing with yet another challenging customer.