by Clare Revell
Jim sighed. “OK. I give in. Anywhere in particular?”
“Nope, just pick one. Staci and I will make a list while I cook.”
~*~
The next morning Lou held out her hand to Jim, who automatically handed over his card. She already knew his PIN—with Jim it could only be one set of numbers, so hadn’t been hard to guess.
“Don’t go mad,” he warned her.
“Thanks. As if I would. See you after lunch.” With that, she charged down the steps, whistling to Deefer. She grabbed her bag and shoving Jim’s card inside it, was ashore before the others could argue.
Lou and Deefer walked along the quay. At the end the road branched into three. “Village that way,” she read. “That figures, up the hill. At least it’s only three-quarters of a mile. Come on, Deefer, let’s go.”
The road was cobbled and a lot steeper than it looked. Low-roofed cottages lined the road, with climbing roses or ivy trailing up the sides. Some of them were thatched. Masses of snapdragons and roses, hollyhocks and lupines filled the gardens. Washing hung in some of the gardens and the occasional cat sunned itself on garden walls.
Both Lou and Deefer were quite puffed when they reached the village. Turning round, Lou noticed a sign proclaiming the hill as a one-in-three. For every one foot across you climbed up three.
The village bustled with activity and was set out in typical fashion, with the church, general store, and pub in the center and houses around the edge. A village green was off to one side. Flags hung from some of the houses and banners festooned the green.
Signs proclaimed a village fete and art fair at the weekend and the locals were busy preparing for it. The smell of baking cakes and bread flowing from almost every kitchen made Lou hungry. She crossed over to the shop and tied Deefer up outside. “Back in a bit,” she told him.
Deefer settled down, content in the sun and pleased that the ground no longer moved beneath his feet.
The bell tinkled as she entered the general store announcing her presence to the storekeeper. Lou stood in amazement. She hadn’t realized that shops like this still existed. All the goods except cards, paper and newspaper were behind the counter.
The storekeeper came out from the back room. Grey hair in a bun and an apron over a long skirt, she looked like someone straight from the pages of a history book. “Sorry to keep you,” she said, in a broad Cornish accent. “How can I help you?”
“I need a few things,” Lou said. “I have a list.”
Lou gave her the shopping list and went to look at the postcards. She picked out a couple and then caught sight of the newspapers. She picked up one of the papers and took it across to the counter. “Is there a chemist here?” she asked.
“Aye, three doors down. Do you want to come back for this in a bit?”
“If that’s all right?”
“No problem. It’ll take me thirty minutes to sort and pack it for you. I’ll keep it out back until you come back.”
“Thank you.”
Deefer was asleep in the sunshine so she went to the chemist on her own. She bought travel pills, just in case, and stocked up on aspirin and pain reliever. Having done that, she explored the village a bit more. She found a bank with an ATM. She pulled out Jim’s card and withdrew some money. It was only as she put the card and money in her purse the thought struck her. Jim’s bank statement would go to her place. If her mother opened it, she’d just sent a ‘we were here’ message. Oh well, they wouldn’t be here for long.
She went back to the general store.
Deefer still dozed.
On the village green the marquee was half up. Opposite, two men on a ladder strung bunting across some of the houses. As she entered, the bell tinkled again and the storekeeper looked up from her knitting.
“Hello dear,” she said. “You picked up one of yesterday’s papers, so I swapped it for one of today’s. I assume that’s what you wanted.”
“Please,” Lou said. She glanced at the headlines and to her horror saw photos of Jim and Staci on the front page staring back at her. She tried to keep her feelings of shock and terror to herself, but her face must have betrayed her.
“Awful story that,” said the storekeeper. “All over the television and radio, too. Three of them, just upped and left. What that poor mother is going through is anyone’s guess. No respect for their elders today, that’s the problem. That’ll be thirty five pounds, please.”
Lou paid for the shopping and took the eight bags, four in each hand. She’d only just got over to where the dog was still asleep, 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 coul
d 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, she was sure she looked like a rabbit trapped in a car’s headlights, in the instance before it dies.
“Hey, take it easy. You said you were going to the quay. There are only fisherman’s cottages and beach huts along there. And I know you aren’t staying in any of those.”
“How so?”
“How can someone so young be so suspicious? What are you any way, fourteen?”
“Sixteen,” Lou said defiantly. ‘Well almost’ she thought. “And how do you know about the boat?”
Jack smiled. “Your reaction when I mentioned it. Relax, Lou. I mean it’s not as if you’re running away or anything stupid like that. Is it?”
“Course not. Just helping out by doing the shopping. Well trying to. And failing miserably. I can’t even do that right.”
“So let me help you. Or is it a failure to admit you need help now and then?”
Lou shook her head. “I suppose not.” She paused and thought for a minute. Without his help, she would never manage. “Please,” she said slowly.
“OK. Stay here.” Jack went into the general store and returned with a paper in a carrier bag. “She couldn’t understand why I wanted a carrier bag when it wasn’t raining.” He took the paper out and laid it on the bench.
The pictures of Jim and Staci gazed up at her below the headline “Missing.” She helped Jack repack the shopping.
He then took six bags, leaving her with the two lightest ones and the dog. Tucking the paper under his arm, he led the way up the street to where he had parked his car. Jack placed his paper on the driver’s seat and loaded the bags into the boot. “You must be going on a long trip to need so much shopping.”
“Not really. We just eat a lot. So what line of work are you in?”
“Changing the subject are we? I work for the U.S. government. What about you?”
“I don’t know what I want to do when I leave school yet.”
“So long as you don’t waste your life by doing nothing or by throwing away the chances you’re given.”
“You sound just like my mother,” Lou grinned. “She keeps telling me that. Still don’t need to make decisions on A-levels for another year yet. I quite fancy archaeology, though.”
The sun disappeared behind a cloud and the wind began to get up. Lou shivered. “I’ve been gone ages. I should get back before they send out a search party.”
Deefer hopped in the back as Lou slid in the front seat. She hoped neither Jim nor Staci would be on deck when she got back. Jack was bound to recognize them. She felt pretty sure he was suspicious now.
He kept glancing at her as he got in. He handed her his paper. “Can you hold this for me please?”
Lou took it. “Sure.” The photos seemed to scream up at her as she looked at them. She turned the paper over but there was no photo of her.
Jack started the car and pulled away from the curb. “Those kids come from Hampshire, too,” he told her. “It’s been all over the news. The mother of the third girl was on TV this morning, appealing for them either to come home or for whoever has them to let them go.”
She fingered the paper, cheeks burning, trying not to fidget in the seat. “Maybe they ran away or had a very good reason for leaving.”
Jack looked at her again. “Well, if they did it was a silly thing to do. Running away never solves anything. The third kid was called Louisa, just like you.”
She bit her lip. She hadn’t told him her name was Louisa, she’d said Lou. The only person she’d given her name to as Louisa was the cop yesterday when she wasn’t thinking straight. “There’s no photo of her though.”
“Yeah, I thought that was strange. Especially if it was the same kid who rescued those police officers in Southampton Water yesterday.”
“I wouldn’t think they’d be the same. If they were running away, they’d hardly stop to help the police when their boat exploded like that. I wonder why there isn’t a picture of her?”
“Could be lucky for her that there isn’t.”
They lapsed into silence. The journey down to the quay only took seven minutes—a far cry from the thirty-five it had taken her to walk up the hill in the first place. Lou kept her eyes forward, but she could tell he kept glancing at her. He knows, maybe not definitely, but he suspects something.
“Which boat is it?” Jack asked.
“Down the end, but I can manage from here.”
“I’ll drop you by the boat,” Jack said firmly, driving slowly down the quay, past all the fishing boats until he reached Avon.
“This one,” Lou said. She undid her seatbelt. “Thank you very much for your help, Jack.” She opened her door as the car stopped.
“No problem.” He got out and opened the boot.
Jack took two bags out of the boot and turned to Lou. “Where would you like them put, Lou?”
“Just on the deck, thanks. I can sort them from there.”
“You’re sure you don’t want them put in the galley?”
Lou spoke quickly. “No, honestly. I left it in a mess.”
“Your mother would be cross if she came back and found the place a mess?”
“Something like that. Not to mention entertaining strange men,” Lou said. As kind as he had been, she just wanted him to go, before he put two and two together.
Jack placed the bags onto Avon’s deck and returned to the car for another two. It wasn’t long before all eight bags and dog were onboard. Deefer barked happily and ran off in search of the others.
Lou held out her hand to Jack. “Thanks again for the lift and all your help.”
“You’re welcome. Not on your own, are you?”
“No. Deefer got inside, so someone must be here.” She paused. “I’d better get on. Thanks again.”
“Welcome. And I wouldn’t advise sailing tonight. They’ve issued a weather warning for this stretch of coastline. Gale force winds. You’d be better off staying here tonight.”
She climbed aboard and carried two bags into the galley. Coming back for the next two, she watched Jack get into his car. He didn’t drive away until she had taken the last two bags inside. Sighing with relief, she began to unpack the shopping.
Jim came flying up the steps from below, his eyes blazing fire. “What are you doing? Are you determined to be caught and sent back?”
“I couldn’t carry all this. One of the bags broke. The tins went everywhere. He helped pick them up and offered to help bring them back.”
“You should’ve said no.”
“Fine. Next time I will. Anyway, just be grateful you didn’t go. Then you would be in heap big trouble.” She hurled the newspaper at him. “There you are. Happy now? I didn’t tell him anything, OK?” Tears burned her eyes and she rubbed at them furiously. “I can’t do anything right according to you. Why do I bother? You can put the stupid shopping away.”
Jim glanced at the front page and grabbed hold of her as she pushed past him. “Hey, it’s OK. I’m sorry. There isn’t a photo of you.”
“She must really miss me. She...didn’t even...bother...with...a photo,” she sobbed.
Staci came into the galley and put the kettle on. She took the paper from Jim and looked at it. “Think yourself lucky. It’s not a very flattering picture,” she said. “It’s last year’s school one.” She looked at her
watch. “It’s almost teatime. I’ll put this lot away and get some tea. Then maybe we should leave.”
“They issued a weather warning for tonight,” Lou said, pulling away from Jim. “Gale force winds.”
Jim went to the window as the first drops of rain fell onto the deck. “OK. We’ll stay here tonight and leave in the morning.”
Lou looked out of the window as rain lashed against them, the wind picking up. This was just a little storm in a sheltered harbor. What would a major one at sea feel like?
~*~
She looked at Jim over breakfast. “You look dreadful.”
“I’m fine. Just didn’t sleep much last night.”
Staci breezed in. “Good morning, campers.”
“What time do you call this, kiddo?”
“Late, probably,” she said sitting down and picking up her tea. “Are we leaving today?”
“ASAP,” Lou said, pulling Jim to his feet.
Both of them had heard the news on the radio that morning. Police were extending the search for them nationwide.
Nichola had made a plea for them to come home, saying that they could work things out, that she loved them.
Lou had snorted derisively. Her mother didn’t love her enough to get her picture published.
The story was that Jim and Staci, overcome by sorrow at the reported death of their parents, had taken off.
Lou headed topside to untie the moorings and then stowed them neatly under the tarpaulin. She went back up to the bridge as Jim raised the anchor and began to pull away from the quay. Lou looked back at the sea front as Avon moved out to sea.
A silver car drove down to where they had been berthed and a figure jumped out.
Jim accelerated the boat. They sped away and soon left the harbor. The coast gradually slipped away as they headed westward.
Lou went up on deck with the cleaning things and began to shine and polish the brass. She stuck her head around the door and grinned at Jim. “Don’t expect this enthusiasm to last beyond a week.”
