Neville moved to hand over the basket of berries and the sickle change to the small boy who's hand was out, already stained blue from the sampling he'd been doing. The boy's mother watched, "Thank you so much," she said, and Neville nodded, "Of course, have a great day."
He turned back to the stand and closed the change box. He was almost ready to pack it in for the day; the stand was down to the bare minimum of items left. Pulling a basket out of one of the bottom drawers, Neville began to walk about the cart, loading up the left over vegetables into the one. He had a separate one for the fruits. He did this every day; collecting the slightly damaged left over produce, and then, after the place was packed and locked up for the night, he'd pick a charity to drop it off with, a different one each day. He had one for each day of the week, and it was a nice routine.
He wondered if that was what Alfie wanted to do. It was customary, he knew, to be so generous, but then, he wasn't really running the stand, counting on a huge profit. He had come into some money once the war was over; apparently, the Longbottoms were not as bad off as all of that. It wasn't something Neville had ever really paid much attention to when he was growing up; if he'd ever asked for anything, the answer was pretty much always 'NO,' so he'd gotten used to not asking. Gran had shocked the hell out of him when she'd mentioned he had a trust fund from his granddad. It wasn't huge, but it was something, a large enough amount to give him a comfortable amount to live on these last few years while he established the business ties going and got the stand up on its feet. It paid for itself; and owning it, there was never a risk of starving.
He wondered about Alfie, and what kind of work he was looking for. From what Neville remembered, he seemed a quiet kind of kid with a sister he thought and he could swear seeing him about the green houses. Other than that, Neville wasn't sure he remembered too much else about him. He wasn't sure if Alfie only wanted a job, like to manage the place or if he wanted to take the whole thing over. Taking it over was better for Neville, but not everyone could handle it; it tended to be a seasonal job to run, although Neville had done a good job at making some international connections; he could get great fruit from South America even when there was a ton of ice and snow on the ground. He was actually more popular during the colder months because of his contacts than during the summer.
Neville paused, having filled the one basket and he looked about, trying to spy a tall gangly kid with darker hair. He thought he spied someone who looked vaguely familiar but he thought he'd wait to see if the man came over; Neville wasn't the best at recognizing people.