Free November-Charlie by Clare Revell Page B

when one of the bags broke. Tins of food rolled in all directions. She put the rest of the bags down and groaned. This was the last thing that she needed. She began to pick up the tins and tried to put them into the other bags.
    Of course, eight bags’ worth of items would not go in to seven and Lou sat down on the bench next to Deefer.
    He looked at Lou enquiringly and nuzzled her as the tears slid down her face.
    She would never get the shopping back down the hill to the boat. She couldn’t leave it here and with their faces all over the papers, there was no way that Jim or Staci could help. She was stuck between a rock and a hard place with no way out.
    A shadow fell over her and an accented voice asked, “Is this tin one of yours?”
    “Probably,” Lou sobbed, without looking up. “It may as well stay where you found it though. I can’t manage all this anyway.”
    “Sounds like you could do with a friend,” the voice said. “Or at least a shoulder to cry on.” The owner of the voice sat down next to her and handed her a tissue. “Here.”
    “Thanks,” Lou said taking it. She blew her nose and rubbed her eyes. “You’re not from round here, are you?”
    The stranger laughed. “Accent gave it away did it?”
    “Slightly.”
    He held out his hand. “Jack Fitzgerald. Oregon. U.S.A.”
    Lou shook his hand. “Lou Benson. Hampshire. England.” She looked up for the first time.
    The American was clean-shaven, with short salt and pepper hair and perfect white teeth. He wore mirrored shades, black tee shirt and khaki chino slacks. Smart black brogues covered his feet. Even with the shades, he was good looking. He spoke again, his voice clipped and precise. “You’re a long way from home, Miss Benson.”
    “Not as far as you are, Mr. Fitzgerald.”
    “Jack, please. Mr. Fitzgerald makes me sound like my father.”
    “I guess you’d better call me Lou, then.” Deefer nuzzled Lou’s hand. “And this is Deefer.”
    Jack reached over and stroked Deefer’s head. “Deefer huh? That’s an unusual name.”
    “It started as a joke. Dee for dog. It kind of stuck.” She watched Deefer closely. He was enduring the attention, but obviously didn’t like Jack much.
    Jack removed his shades and hooked them over his shirt neck, revealing a pair of fathomless and yet piercing brown eyes. “Is that better, boy?” Deefer’s tail half wagged. Jack smiled. “I can’t be that bad. Your dog likes me.”
    Lou half smiled.
    “That’s better,” Jack said. “Now where are you and all this shopping heading?”
    “The quay. I hadn’t realized the list was so long. Then the bag broke, and it won’t all fit in the others.”
    “Let me help.”
    Lou shook her head. “I couldn’t do that.”
    “You can’t carry all that down that hill to the quay by yourself. Let me put it in my car, and I’ll drive you there.”
    “That’s a very kind offer, Mr. Fitzgerald, but I can’t accept.”
    “Call me Jack,” he repeated. “And why can’t you accept my offer?”
    “My mother told me never to accept lifts from strangers. Especially strange men.”
    “Do you always do what your mother tells you?”
    “Most of the time-ish.”
    “I promise you will be perfectly safe with me. Besides, I’m not a stranger. You know my name.”
    “It could be a false one.”
    Jack reached into his jacket and produced his wallet. He opened it and took out a card. A photo card driving license, it had his name and photo on it, along with his date of birth and place of residence. “So there you have it,” he said, putting the card away. “No longer a stranger. Not much I can do about being a man.”
    “I guess not.”
    “Let me be your knight in shining armor. I’ve always wanted to rescue a damsel in distress.”
    Lou smiled. “OK.”
    “I’ll go get another bag first. Then we’ll put your shopping in the car and go and find your boat.”
    “What boat?” Lou asked, a little too quickly, fear clouding her eyes. For a moment,