Disney temporary jewellery tattoo sheets

The transfers hang in the rack beside the postcards. One pack has a mermaid curled on a rock, green ribbon tied round the sheet, all lilac and sea-blue. The other is silver, a row of snowflakes and small crowns stacked like the buttons on a good winter coat. Nobody bought the silver ones. They looked too cold for a summer platform, and I kept meaning to mark them down.

Then Mrs Okonedo, who ran the café across the footbridge for thirty years, came in on the last Thursday before they shut it. She didn't say hello. She put two pounds on the counter and asked for the silver pair. Outside, the rain started, the kind that comes sideways off the fields. She pressed a snowflake onto the back of her hand, rubbed it with a wet thumb, and said it would hold until the weather turned. On Monday I swept the bench where she'd sat, and every transfer was gone except one little crown, still stuck to the timetable board, catching the light from the platform lamp.