Chapter Text
The familial scent of home caused Yaz’s shoulders to sink, and the first thing she did as she entered her family’s flat was to reach back and take the bobble from her tight braid. Her hands carded through her hair, hoping that it would ease the tension headache which was mounting by the second. She released the tactical vest from her torso, shrugging it off with a sigh.
Her mother's head poked into the hallway. “Ah, good, glad you’re home, love.” She peered at her daughter, noticing the tremor in her hands as she hung up her vest in the closet next to the front door. “Bad day? Kettle’s just boiled.”
Yaz plastered on a smile. She took off her shoes and placed them on the rack. “It was… a day,” she huffed out a breath as she made her way into the kitchen, making a beeline for a mug and the tea caddy. “Boss keeps putting me on parking disputes and I’m tired of it.” She poured her brew then shuffled over to the fridge. Najia took a sip of her tea, watching closely as Yaz’s shoulder’s slumped. “I wanna do more.” She opened the fridge door and halted when her fingers brushed against the bottle of milk. She turned a questioning look at her mother, holding up the very nearly empty bottle with her finger through the handle. “Really?”
Najia pursed her lips, an apologetic look in her eyes. “Sorry, Yaz. I’ve had quite the day myself. I’ll pick some up tomorrow.”
Yaz rolled her eyes affectionately. “I’ll nip out after tea.” She used the last of the milk, rinsed the bottle in the sink and popped it into the recycling bin. Her eyes scanned her dad’s work timetable on the fridge, noting that her dad would be on his way to London St Pancras for the 1800 departure. “Dad’s on a late one then,” she took a look at her mother who raised her eyebrows, nodding. Yaz looked around. “Where’s Sonya?”
“Bowling with some friends from the shop,” Najia grinned. “Just you and me tonight. Speaking of which…” Yaz didn’t like that tone, and knew exactly where this was going. “Have you had any luck, you know… making friends at work?”
Yaz sighed, pressing the heel of her hand to her forehead in the hopes that it would stop throbbing. “Mum, I go to work to work, not to make friends.” She shook her head, “And anyway, I don’t see you hanging out with anyone other than Nani, so I don’t see why…” She trailed off, already having said too much. Her mother’s eyes widened, her face a mixture of shock and weirdly, concern. “Sorry,” Yaz muttered, pressing her hand to her eye to try and rid her head of its pain. “That wasn’t fair.”
“No,” Najia began, “It wasn’t.” She reached over and took Yaz’s free hand, giving it a squeeze. “Drink your tea,.” She cleared her throat and got up to check on the pasta bake that was busy sizzling away in the oven. Yaz watched her closely, huffing softly before taking a sip of her tea. The steam permeated up to kiss her cheeks, wetting them slightly. It soothed her, as did the heat of the liquid greeting her throat as she swallowed.
“Do you think…” Yaz started after watching her mother in the kitchen for a few minutes, “If things were different, if I’d gone to uni, I’d have made more friends?”
Najia let out a sigh and braced herself against the kitchen counter, then turned, putting the oven mitt down. “I think you’re a bit too much like me,” she wrinkled her nose. “And I think what you were about to say was right.” She turned around again, busying herself with putting the bake back in the oven and reducing the heat. “As unfair as it was. Family is important to us. We make friends with the ones who are there for us when we arrive in this world.”
Yaz smiled at that, hugging the mug close to her as she drank. “Poetic. I like that.”
Najia snorted a laugh, joining her daughter back at the kitchen table. “Tea will be ready in ten.”
“Mum?”
“Yes, sweetheart.” Najia swigged the last of her tea, popping her own mug on the coaster in front of her.
“Thanks for being my friend.”
Najia smiled. “Anytime. And love, don’t write yourself off. You’re perfectly capable of being someone else’s friend. Remember that.”
Yaz rolled her eyes, but smiled regardless and found her eyes watering. She stretched in her chair and got up, drinking the last of her tea. “Going to get changed,” her voice wavered, and she cleared her throat of its husk.
When she got to her room, she found herself peering out at the world far beyond the window, the city lights of Sheffield twinkling as dusk crept in. The evenings were getting lighter, winter well on its way out and Yaz was partly glad for it. She loved the summer, but for some reason this year, thinking about the warming days filled her with dread.
She wasn’t quite done hibernating. She’d become well accustomed to finishing her shifts, diving under the covers of her bed and watching Two Girls Roaming on Youtube. She loved travel vlogs, and found herself scouring the internet in her free time, living vicariously through the adventures of people she’d never met. Her mind wandered as she got changed, imagining herself travelling across the world by train. Aeroplanes had always scared her, but trains… She smiled at one of the earliest memories she had, her dad taking her on a train to Edinburgh, keeping her occupied with the train key he always carried on his own set of keys. It was bulky, and stood out but she loved the feeling of the heavy metal, its strange curved handle and spherical stem. The very same key was given to her and now sat on her bookshelf. She didn’t know the first thing about how to drive a train, unlike her dad, however knowing that this key could unlock any train in the UK was enough to make her adventurous heart soar.
Yaz was so deep in thought, she barely registered her mother’s voice from the hallway, beckoning her for tea. Quickly, she got changed into her joggers, a vest top and her favourite 65daysofstatic hoodie. The smell of melted cheese lured her from her room. The caffeine in the tea had helped soothe her headache, but it still lingered in the background as Najia served up.
“Smells great, mum,” she praised, joining her mother at the dining table. They mostly ate in companionable silence, sharing the odd tidbit about their respective frustrating days. It was often so much quieter when it was just the two of them, with Hakim at work (ever the chatterbox) and Sonya’s lack of bickering banter.
Once she was well and truly stuffed, she thanked Najia for the food with a hug as they worked together on clearing up, then grabbed the market bag hanging from a hook on the fridge. “Need anything else? Apart from milk.”
“You sure you’ll be alright? Hate the thought of you going out on your walks in the dark,” Najia sidestepped the question.
Yaz sighed, hands on hips. “I like my walks, need the fresh air. I’m only going around the corner.”
“Maybe a copy of the Radio Times,” Najia conceded after staring her daughter down.
Yaz smirked as she eased her leather jacket on, glad that it was no longer too cold to wear it. “You don’t seem to have an issue with me being on nights but a quick walk around the block for some milk and you’re all worried.”
Najia sighed at that, shaking her head. “I worry all the time. But you’re right. Here…” She pulled out a pound coin from her purse. “Get yourself some chocolate.”
“Mum… I can pay for my own–”
“I know,” Najia smiled. “I know. But you deserve a treat every now and again.”
“I’m 22,” Yaz huffed, but took the quid regardless. “Thanks.” She kissed her mother on the cheek and left the flat, breathing a sigh of relief once she got out into the open air.
Headphones in ears, Yaz felt herself relax once she left the Park Hill flats. It was colder than she’d imagined, wintery air still hanging on by a seasonal thread. She lost herself in the clear skies above her, stars twinkling back at her the more she looked. Her eyes squinted as she followed each constellation. Cassiopeia winked at her almost proudly, while the timid Ursa Minor greeted her slowly, as her eyes became accustomed to the night sky. Cepheus… Draco.
Yaz’s face scrunched up in delight and sucked a deep breath of cool air in. She loved space, loved the stars and often dreamed of visiting different planets, even different planes of existence. Her dreams were often strange and lucid, sometimes disorientating. She mused on last night’s dream where she was in what could only be described as an intergalactic Amazon-type warehouse. Her memory was hazy, but she distinctly remembered waking up feeling compelled to get rid of the bubble wrap her dad had been collecting. He was a bit of a hoarder, and often would talk wildly about conspiracies. No wonder she had strange dreams after listening to him droning on. Yaz blinked, realising she’d been daydreaming again as she walked and she’d gone the wrong way. She was on Duke St, a mostly residential area with very little to offer in the way of milk. She sighed, about to turn back when lights from a nearby building caught her eye. She walked a little further down the street, enjoying the stillness of the evening air and recollecting her thoughts on dreams, the night sky and the endless wonder of the world before her. As she got closer, Yaz spotted the lights of what looked like a corner shop she’d never seen before. Even in the dark, the blue signage of the shop drew Yaz in like a moth to a flame. Everything was blue. The door, the cladding and the window frame, all the same colour. Above the shop window was the sign TARDIS. Yaz scoffed, wondering if it was a knock-off of Londis, but it was open and the bright lights brought her closer to the door. The building itself was not on a corner, but a standalone property, as if someone had just plonked it down on the street.
When Yaz opened the door, she could immediately smell that wonderfully nostalgic scent of sweets. A flashback accosted her, one that she remembered fondly of her Nani bringing her to get pick and mix on holiday in Scarborough. It was the same smell, and she entered with a smile on her face.
The shop itself was vast inside, full and crammed with anything and everything. Hardware tools on one wall. Sweets, chocolate and pick and mix on the wall closest to the till. Next to them was a magazine rack with newspapers and magazines on full display. For some reason, Yaz felt like the shop was bigger on the inside. She frowned, stood on the spot and spun slowly. The sign did say open, but there was nobody around. She made her way to the refrigerated section and found a 4 pint bottle of milk, checking the use-by date before her eyes wandered around the unusually deserted shop. Yaz headed over to the magazine rack where she found a copy of the most recent Radio Times for her mother, then paused as she noticed other magazines in plastic wrap, some dating from the 60s and 70s. Odd… She pulled out one of her earphones just in case she could sense any sign of life.
The shop was silent, save the hum of the fridges with freshly stocked dairy items and fruit and veg. “Hello?” She called out, making her way to the cash register. She pulled out her wallet after placing the magazine and her milk down on the counter. “Anyone there?”
More silence. Her eyes roamed the area, trying to find a bell or something, anything that would announce her presence. Instead she found a bookshelf next to the counter, full to the brim of different books in various pre-loved conditions. Her hands swept across the spines, and she stopped suddenly when she found a tiny book. She lifted it up and noticed the green and purple cover.
Her head swung up when a crash from the back of the shop sounded, and a dishevelled looking blonde woman emerged with an empty cardboard box in her hand. Despite her appearance, she wore a toothy grin as she nodded over to Yaz. “Be right there with you! Just gotta wrestle with these…” She bent down and pulled up a handful of pumpkins, holding them in her arms triumphantly. “Sweet as anything these are, mind you, I think it’s only me who’s eating them at this time of year,” she rambled, more or less to herself. Then she looked at Yaz again. “Can I interest you in a pumpkin?”
Yaz blinked, looking back at her shopping on the counter, the book in her hand, then back to the stranger who was swiftly placing the pumpkins on the shelf next to the fridge. “Umm… in March?”
“Right, silly me,” the woman pressed her hand to her head. “It is March, isn’t it? Then again I could eat pumpkins all year round.” She wandered, or more, hopped over to the counter and squeezed past Yaz to get behind it. She obviously didn’t feel the cold, because she was in a blue vest top with a rainbow stripe across the chest, shorts that went to her knees and to top it off, a pair of braces around her shoulders, “March which means… Easter eggs! Ah now that I do have!” She gestured grandly to the tiny range of Easter chocolate that sat next to the chewing gum, various sweets and chocolate. “You’re not here for Easter eggs, are you? Because I have lots more on the way, I’m just a bit behind the times.”
Yaz stood, perplexed with a vague sense of deja vu. “I don’t really celebrate Easter,” she murmured, despite eyeing up the packet of Cadbury’s mini eggs closest to her. Her mind was foggy, and the pound coin in the pocket of her jogging bottoms felt heavy. “But I will take these,” she said, bringing her eyes to the cashier’s as she handed over the yellow packet.
“Eggcelent choice,” the woman grinned and winked, then scrunched up her nose. “Sorry,” she winced when she noticed Yaz averting her eyes, “I’ve been keeping that one in all day.” She snorted and started to ring the items through.
Yaz took a moment to collect herself, for some reason feeling her cheeks heating at the woman’s presence. When she looked up, the woman was staring at her, her hazel eyes occasionally flicking down to her hands. “Do you like the stars?” came the quiet question.
“Sorry?” Yaz blinked.
“Ah,” the shopkeeper cleared her throat. “The book in your hand. Don’t mean to be a snoop. I have a book swap, see? Well, it’s more of a little library.” She gestured to the bookshelf where Yaz had procured the book. “I really like the Very Short Introduction series,” she reached over and tapped the book in Yaz’s hand. “And that one,” she gave a genuinely excited grin, “Is one of my faves.” She brushed the cover, accidentally catching Yaz’s thumb in the process. As soon as their fingers touched, Yaz sucked in a breath. “Ah sorry, always have staticky fingers, me. Anyway, it’s yours if you want it.” She pulled her hand away, but not before giving the book a fond little tap.
Yaz looked down at the astronomy book in her hands. “How much do you want for it?” Her curiosity was piqued, and she looked up to find the shopkeeper smiling softly.
“Absolutely nothing,” she said earnestly. “Just bring a book next time you’re round. Pay it forward.”
Yaz looked at the book in her hands, noting the very loved corners. “Won’t you miss it?”
“Absolutely will,” the enigmatic shopkeeper beamed. “But it’s served me well, and I want to pass on the knowledge. That’s my favourite bit,” she finished with a conspiring whisper. There was a quiet ding and Yaz nearly jumped, then located its source and realised for the first time how old the cash till was. It was beautifully embossed with buttons and old fashioned numbers on the top, with circles and geometric shapes that Yaz had never seen before. “£6.85 please,” the shopkeeper smiled, handing out her hand.
Yaz forgot there would even be a transaction, and quickly opened her wallet, handing over a fiver, the coin from her pocket and another pound from her wallet. “Umm,” she began, waiting and hoping they’d lock eyes again. “Keep the change? You know… for the book.”
The cashier blinked, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. “I’ll pop it in the charity pot,” she smiled, gesturing to the jar next to the chewing gum rack which had various coins inside. “It’s for when people can’t afford something. You know, paying it forward and all that.”
Yaz’s heart warmed as the shopkeeper popped 15p from the till into the jar. A strange whirring sound enveloped the shop, and the woman retrieved a piece of paper from a contraption at the base of the till. “Your receipt,” she dragged her eyes from the strange looking symbols from Yaz’s hoodie up to Yaz’s face as she handed over the oddest receipt Yaz had ever seen. It looked like it had come straight from a typewriter and on it showed only the prices of the items she’d bought. Yaz looked back up and into the woman’s eyes, then swallowed heavily and looked away, stuffing the receipt into her wallet.
“Thanks,” she murmured, quickly putting the milk, magazine, and the mini eggs as well as the book into her market bag, crocheted by her Nani. “Bye.”
“Bye! Enjoy the stars,” the shopkeeper smirked. “They’re beautiful tonight. Well, every night but at least tonight we can actually see ‘em, can’t we?”
Yaz nodded, shouldering the bag. She left the shop, with one last wave at the woman who grinned and waved back. Her heated cheeks were glad for the cool air as she found herself back on the street with her back to the shop window. Instead of putting her headphones back in, she walked back towards the flat, listening to every sound the city had to offer her. It was quiet on Duke St at this time of the evening. Her fingers idly rubbed at the spot where the shopkeeper’s thumb touched hers. The walk back to the flat was quick, given how long she realised she’d been away from home. She got to the carpark of the housing estate, her legs feeling weirdly rubbery and it was then that she looked up at the stars, smiling when they twinkled back at her.
Yaz pulled out her keys when she got to the main doors, her mind still thinking about the enigmatic woman she’d just met. The image of her surrounded by pumpkins made her snort with laughter when she finished the climb to her flat, and she opened the flat door with a confused grin.
“That took you long enough,” Najia called from the living room.
“Went to a new shop,” Yaz replied easily in between breaths, feeling her heart race from what she assumed was the climb of the stairs. She put her boots away, took off her jacket, put the milk in the fridge, and presented Najia with the copy of the Radio Times. “Here.” She wanted to tell her mother about the shop she’d visited, but the words never came.
“Thanks, love,” Najia popped it onto the coffee table. “Did you get yourself a treat?”
“Yeah,” Yaz smiled. “Thanks.” She held the book and the chocolate under her arm. Her mother was busy watching TV and on a usual day, she’d join her but this evening she felt a little flustered by tonight’s encounter. She wished her mother goodnight and excused herself to her bedroom, desperate to take a look at the book in her hand. She sat down on the bed and her fingers traced the words on the cover. The History of Astronomy, it read. She kicked off her joggers, then pulled off her hoodie and got into bed. Just one chapter, she promised herself, whilst opening the packet of mini eggs and popping one into her mouth.
She opened the first page to find a smudged note inside written in blue ink. She bit her lip as she read the note, wondering why her heart felt like it was intruding on the book’s history. “Finn Smith, February 2009.” She smiled, tracing the name one last time with her finger before settling down to read.