The closing sale

Source: an original fiction extract.

On the last Saturday of the shop, Arun's father put a handwritten sign in the window: EVERYTHING MUST GO. Arun thought the letters looked angry, although his father had written them with the same careful black pen he used for birthday cards. For twenty-eight years the shop had sold screws, brushes, string and small things that people could not name until they held them up. Now the landlord wanted the building empty by Monday. Arun had come to help. His father handed him a box of price labels and asked him to make the figures large enough to read.

By noon, customers were congratulating themselves on bargains. A woman bought six paintbrushes and said it was a shame about the shop. His father thanked her and wrapped the brushes. Arun wanted to ask why she had not bought them last month. Instead he reduced a stack of trays from three pounds to two. At the back, a child counted hinges into a paper bag while his grandfather looked for a particular bolt. The grandfather apologised for taking so long. Arun's father came around the counter and helped him compare the threads.

When they were alone for a moment, Arun said there was no point spending ten minutes on a sale worth thirty pence. His father kept sorting the bolts. He said the man needed the correct one. Arun answered that the shop was closing whether the bolt fitted or not. His father placed the wrong bolt back in its drawer with unnecessary care. Then he asked Arun to fetch another roll of paper. In the stockroom, Arun found a photograph of himself at seven, standing on a box to reach the till. He left it where it was.

Near closing time, a young woman brought in a broken cupboard handle. She had seen the sale sign and hoped there might be a replacement. There was none on display. Arun began to apologise, but his father asked him to check the drawers underneath. At the very back was a packet containing two handles, dusty and slightly different from hers. Arun carried it out. His father showed the woman how both handles could be replaced so the cupboard would match. She bought them and said she had thought she would need a new door. After she left, Arun wiped the empty drawer with his sleeve.

They turned the sign around at five. Much remained: odd washers, a ladder, jars with no lids. Arun's father sat on the stool and took off his glasses. Arun waited for him to say that it had been a good day. Instead he asked whether Arun would help carry the unsold stock to the van tomorrow. Arun said he would. He went back for the photograph and put it beside the cash box. His father looked at it for a while, then asked him to wrap the frame before it got scratched. Outside, somebody tested the locked door and walked away.

Consider the whole source. A reader said: “Arun initially judges the shop only by whether it makes money. By the end, the writer suggests that he recognises the value of his father’s work, even though this cannot save the business.” Evaluate how far you agree. Support your judgement with detailed references to the text and the writer’s methods.