Chapter 9
Gabe grabbed some lunch things for Ed, threw five packs of chocolate muffins into the basket, and headed back to the checkout with the maps tucked carefully under his arm.
‘You can wait here until it stops,’ he heard the girl at the checkout saying to the pretty dark-haired woman he’d almost fallen over a moment ago. She was standing, bags in both hands, looking out at the rain, which had been threatening all morning and had chosen exactly the wrong moment to materialise. The blue and white striped shirt she was wearing - sleeves rolled up to show the pale skin of her forearms – was going to be no match for the weather outside, even with the padded waistcoat as an extra layer.
He put his shopping down and the girl checked it through, noticing the maps under his arm and motioning to the bags hanging beside her with a raised eyebrow of query.
‘Yeah, please. I’ve got my hands full as it is.’
He paid and walked over to the door, triggering the automatic sensor so it slid open. Raindrops were sheeting down from the sky, dripping down a gutter which clearly needed repair, and hammering onto the roofs of the cars parked opposite. He glanced at the dark-haired woman, who was biting her lower lip and frowning.
‘It’ll be over in a moment,’ he said, to reassure her. ‘Everyone says that here, but it really is true.’
‘I hope so or I’m going to get soaked.’ She raised her eyebrows and lifted the bags slightly in a gesture of surrender.
‘You and me both.’
He watched her checking the notices on the board behind him and stepped to one side, in case she wanted to see the whole display.
Una would murder him if he got these maps wet. He looked out at the sky, trying to gauge what the chances were that the rain would stop in the next five minutes or so.
‘Are you sure this is going to stop in a minute? It looks pretty permanent to me.’
She’d put her bags down on the ground. With her arms folded in an attempt to keep warm, she looked as if she’d rather be anywhere else but here.
‘I hope so,’ he said, indicating with a shrug of his shoulder the papers folded under his arm. ‘I’m supposed to be halfway up the moor delivering these to my boss in the next ten minutes.’
‘Are they important?’ She looked at the papers folded under his arm.
‘Relatively,’ he said, frowning to himself as he thought on the hop. There had to be a way of dealing with this.
‘That’s not great,’ she said, and smiled shyly, lifting a hand to push a strand of hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ear. She wore no jewellery – not even a wedding ring, some part of him noticed, inconsequentially.
‘So –’ he began, some part of him wondering why he was making conversation, when he’d basically kept himself to himself for the last six months.
‘Are –’ she said at the same time, making him smile.
‘Go on.’ He gestured slightly as he had earlier. Another huge rumble of thunder passed overhead, and the girl behind the checkout whistled in surprise.
‘That’s loud, right enough,’ she said to anyone who was listening.
‘Sorry,’ he went on, ‘I was going to say – are you visiting Applemore?’
‘Something like that. I’m house-sitting for a friend for a couple of months.’
She looked up at him and he noticed her eyes, which were the colour of chocolate and fringed with long, dark lashes.
‘And you’re not from round here either, I’m guessing from the accent?’
He couldn’t quite place her accent – it sounded very slightly northern. Yorkshire, perhaps?
‘No,’ he said, after a moment. ‘I moved up from down south about six months ago.’
‘I guess you’re used to the weather by now.’ She rubbed her arms in an attempt to warm herself.
‘Well, I’ve learned to expect the unexpected. Let’s put it that way.’
Ah, he’d had a brainwave. ‘Sorry, I’ve had an idea to get these where they need to be without them dissolving into pulp. Excuse me.’
He headed to the aisle where all the household equipment was on sale and picked up a roll of black plastic bags, passing them over to the girl at the checkout.
‘Would you mind if I borrowed the counter for a moment?’
‘Course not,’ said the girl cheerfully. ‘Help yourself.’
The two older women looked on with interest as he unwrapped a couple of the bags, folded them over the maps and made sure that they were well and truly protected.
‘Solved the problem,’ he said, brandishing the now rainproof papers at the girl by the exit. She shot him a smile and stepped back as he moved towards the sensor so the door slid open, a splatter of raindrops blowing in on the wind. ‘Sorry about that,’ he said, as the door slid closed again, and he headed back towards the truck, jogging along the now-empty street, head ducked to try and avoid the worst of the storm.
Stanley was curled up fast asleep on the passenger seat, completely unbothered by the weather. He tossed the maps on the back seat and opened the door, climbing in and turning on the engine with a groan of relief. He checked his phone – no messages wondering where he was, thank goodness – and started down the street.
On a whim, as he passed the supermarket he slowed, looking in to see if she was still waiting there at the door. She looked out at him through the glass, and he opened the passenger window, gesturing first at her then at the car, his eyebrows raised in query. Stanley helpfully hung his head out and barked with excitement.
‘Do you want a lift somewhere?’ he shouted through the rain, trying again to motion to the truck and then to her in the hope she’d get what he was saying.
She looked puzzled for a moment then shook her head, smiling, pointing back the way he’d just driven. She must be staying in the village, and happy to wait for the rain to go off.
It was funny, he thought as he headed back up the hill towards the moor, but he’d never have dreamt of offering a lift to a stranger back home in England. Even after six months living in Applemore he’d learned that there was a safety in the isolated way that they lived – nothing happened without it being noted by someone, and they spent so much time ferrying workers back and forth for one reason or another that it didn’t seem unusual. She wasn’t local, though, and so it wasn’t really a surprise that she’d turned down his offer. He could be anyone, after all.