As he waited, Bruce watched the woman over the guy’s shoulder. She was poking around the shelves in the far aisle with her back to him. There were five small black and white monitors suspended above the counter. They faced the customers. They weren’t so much a way for Bruce to keep an eye on the potentially nimble-fingered who might try their luck, as they were a warning, a reminder to said nimble-fingered that every angle of the shop, and outside, was being recorded.

“I think that’s it,” the guy said.

Bruce quickly counted the change. The guy had paid him in such small denominations that he’d paid the exact amount.

“Thanks. Do you want a receipt?” said Bruce.

The guy shook his head and headed back to his car.

The woman finally came up to the counter. She had a bottle of Lucozade and a child’s milkshake in a carton. She looked weary and distant. She didn’t say anything, didn’t even look at Bruce. There was only one car left on the forecourt so Bruce knew which pump to charge.

“£15.78,” he said, after adding on the drinks.

The woman nodded and gave him a twenty. As he fished out her change, Bruce looked out the window. The car was facing away from him but in the backseat was a little girl, kneeling on the seat and looking out through the rear windscreen like an abandoned dog.

Bruce gave the woman her change.

NOTES:
It's another shop assistant! For novelty's sake I thought I'd give this guy an easy time of it. No pernickety customers, no armed robberies, though for all I know he could be stabbed and killed on his way home. But that's another story. This guy existed mainly to draw attention to the little girl before we actually get to her story.