The months of frustration were finally over.

Rising early in his upstairs apartment Tom quickly showered, shaved and whatever, before preparing and eating a hurried breakfast at the small bar he had installed between his open kitchen and the main living area. After his healthy fruit cocktail of kiwi and passion fruit were thrown in the blender along with a couple of heaped tablespoons of oat bran and goji berries adding a sprinkle of chia seeds and quinoa, he devours two slabs of whole-grain rye toast, one covered with peanut butter, the other with Australia’s Vegemite. A small quickly turned omelet, not so healthily stuffed with ham and cheese and a long black coffee from his kitchen espresso machine, Italian beans from Illy, completed his hearty breakfast.

He was surprisingly nervous. He had led a major corporation for years but this was different. He was now doing his own thing, a journey all had advised was doomed to failure. Now at the 11^th hour, he wonders if they all may have been right and he may have been wrong to take this gamble, so late in his life?

Optimism was Tom’s second name so he soon overcame his one minute of doubt and bounded down the rear stairs to make last-minute checks and open the door of Tom the Grocer, and the door to his new life. He walks outside and gazes up at his building the clean new white exterior offset by the multi-colored flowering plants hanging from the two balconies outside his apartment. He unfurls the blue and white striped awnings above each shop window to keep out the harsh Australian sun. He is very satisfied with the finished product.

The shops had been totally re-modeled to Tom’s design, the corner shop becoming the main grocery room for packets, tins, bottles, and the cashier counter whilst the adjoining one had been fitted out with freezers and chilled display counters for all the fresh food he was stocking. Unlike traditional small grocers, Tom had decided to fashion a mini supermarket and include serving portions of meat, fish and pre-packaged meals, with a delicatessen range of processed meats and cheeses, all vacuum packed to retain maximum freshness and to extend their shelf life for as long as possible. Fresh fruit and vegetables were a more difficult option but he knew he must provide all the last-minute essentials to build a steady return trade. 

The shop entrance was a pair of glass-paneled doors set into the actual corner, a small step between them and the footpath, covered with a blue overhead canopy to protect incoming customers from any rain. The corner was where the main and side streets met. Large display windows on the main street showed an array of product including a Today’s Specials board which he intended to use to lure customers to enter by offering prices almost at cost. He wanted rapid turnover with zero wastage, his overheads were low so any profit was a good profit.

No sooner than he had unlocked the front doors, switched the CLOSED sign around to show OPEN, and settled on the small stool behind the counter and a mature-aged lady appeared, gently pushing the door open as if she was not sure if the shop was actually open or not.

“Are you open?” she inquired.

“Just this very minute and you are the very first person to walk through that door on this, our first day. Welcome to Tom the Grocer.”

“I will have a look to see what you have, always good to check out any new place in this old neighborhood, usually places close down around here, so rare to have a new one.”

“Feel free to look and don’t forget the next room where all the fresh stuff is kept.”

The old lady pottered around for almost 10 minutes, picking up many items and checking their prices. Tom had seen her before and they had been on nodding terms. During the 3 months of renovations, he had lived in the upstairs apartment and frequented all the other local businesses in his block to learn more about the area and meet as many locals as possible. Lunch at the ‘Greasy Greeks’ owned by his new friend George, and dinner at Jimmy Choo’s, the local Chinese restaurant, had become regular habits. Tom had eventually been accepted as a local, though as a new one and slowly at first.

“As you have only opened today, I guess the fresh is really fresh?’ she inquired as if still doubting that fact.

“Is and always will be, I keep the markups to a minimum so as to turn all over quickly,” Tom replied with a smile.

“I might just take a couple of things and try,” she said as if she was doing him a major favor. And she was, as she was about to become Tom’s first customer. After a frustrating further 10 minutes of poking around, she presented her small green plastic shopping basket, the same style as the major supermarkets, to Tom at the cashier post. The princely sum of $17.96 was the first sale.

After that there was a steady trickle of customers, sometimes 20 minutes or so in between, slow but sure! A couple of late deliveries arrived, today instead of last week, but he just had them dumped in the dry and cold stores to unpack later as he was afraid to leave the counter unattended, service first was his motto.

The bell jangled yet again and Tom looked up. A primitive small bell hanging from a chain behind the front door of the shop warned of any incoming customer.

A youth, not very well presented in fact almost scruffy, strolled in and began checking the sweets on display, before selecting a couple of Kit-Kats and bringing them to the counter where Tom was standing beside his brand-new computerized cash register.

“$3.60 please”

The boy looked at Tom and smiled. The smile totally transformed him. He had such an open smile that it suggested he was not lacking any self-doubts or embarrassment. He handed over a $5 note and patiently waited for his change.

Tom suddenly felt an urge to make conversation, something he only rarely did with total strangers and this young man he had never met nor even seen before. The boy had seemed uninteresting when entering the shop but that smile changed everything as if he was two different people.

“I haven’t seen you around here before, are you new to Stanmore?” Tom inquired.

 “Staying with an uncle while studying at college. In fact, I have just come from the railway station after spending half the night and this morning in a train. A bit of a mess I am afraid?”

“I come from the bush, Dubbo” he added “My dad owns a cattle and horse stud in Dubbo but I want to escape and have come to Sydney to study then work in IT, they seem to be the ones who make all the money!”

“Computer Technology?” Tom inquired to make sure he knew what the boy meant by IT.

“Yeah, I want to become a computer man” he answered, again with that open smile.

Dubbo was a large country town in northwestern New South Wales, a thriving community surrounded by hundreds of miles of prime land farms, mainly beef cattle and horses, with some sheep. Tom had driven through Dubbo once, stopping to enjoy a Mixed Grill, the country Australian meal of choice; steak, sausage, liver and bacon with an egg on the side and a mound of potato chips or French fries as they say in the posh places.

“I was in Dubbo once but only for an hour or two to have lunch, seemed a nice town,” Tom offered as a conversation piece.

“Maybe nice for you as a stranger but for me, it is very boring, Sydney is much more exciting!”

“Sydney, but not Stanmore I assure you, but the big city is not far away.”

The boy showed no wish to depart. He hesitated not knowing whether he had already overstayed his welcome, but as Tom was hungry for the company he was finding this simple exchange relaxing and sensed that Greg was an interesting young man. He also did not wish their meeting to finish. 

“So, what will you do with your time here? Do you already have any friends here?”

“I only arrived earlier this morning. I know no one in Sydney except my uncle. I start college next Monday so I have the rest of this week to look around.”

“I do not think that you will find anything very interesting in Stanmore, most of the people who live around here seem to keep to themselves. They all seem to be on tight budgets or are just shrewd with their money, judging by the prices in the local shops.”

”That sounds like me, a poor student,” the boy responds, with that infectious smile.

“You should be rich coming from a large farm”

“I guess my dad is but he does not shower the riches on me, says I must make my own way in life”

“By the way, what is your name? Mine is Tom, Tom the grocer!”

“Greg, only my mother calls me Gregory, Mr. Tom”

“No Mr. please, just Tom. I am too old to stand on any ceremony. I like simple things and honest open people.”

“I feel very comfortable chatting with you, almost as if I have known you for years not just minutes,” and then adds rather sheepishly, “Tom”.

“If you are ever looking for a little bit of part-time work after you settle in here then come and talk to me?”

Tom wondered why he had just said that after just a few minutes talking with the kid? Though he had often before made snap judgments in his life and normally they turned out OK, but this was verging on the ridiculous, particularly as he did not need any staff yet.

“Really? That would be fantastic! I definitely will need some work in order to survive, Sydney is so expensive!”

“It will be very boring work though, just helping by unpacking and storing all the things, and then re-stocking the shelves.” 

“No problem, I would love it, but are you serious, could I really work here with you? My college hours are from 8:00 till 4:00 on weekdays, the college is on Broadway at the University of Technology, so I should be back here before 5:00, and I would be free anytime at weekends, barring homework which I am sure they will give me plenty.”

“Probably just bits and pieces, whenever I needed someone, it is not as of it would be regular full time, or even regular casual, just sometimes.”

Then as an afterthought, he shocked himself by asking, “What are you doing later today? I have a big load of new stuff that just arrived a few hours ago and it must all be put away after I close at 8:00 tonight?”

Greg smiled, no more like beamed, “I would love to, you really are serious?” not fully believing his luck at possible solving his severe lack of pocket money from father, and had taken an instant liking to Tom. He may be as old as his own father but he comes across more like a big brother, he feels very comfortable with him and is sure that it would also be fun working with him.

“Tonight? Fantastic, I will be here. What should I wear?”

“Just any old thing, shorts, and T-shirt are Ok in fact they are probably the best as it may be a bit dusty in the storerooms.” 

“Great, because that is just about all I have apart from these jeans.”

“Maybe wear your jeans and bring your shorts to change into, that way you can have a shower after if covered in dust.”

Greg did not want to leave but knew he could not stand there and anyway as another customer had just walked in, announced by the jangling bell. He also needed some sleep after the long journey, so he would not make any stupid mistakes helping Tom later.

As Greg started to leave Tom said, nonchalantly, in a business-like tone of voice; “OK, see you later then?”

“For sure!” said Tom with a smile.

To be continued...