Her righteous tone riled him. He looked in the bag. ‘You’re wrong,’ he said. ‘It’s minestrone soup.’ He wouldn’t have spoken if she hadn’t been so quick to condemn. ‘See?’ He lifted out a squashed carton. This is bizarre, he thought, a senior policeman arguing over a squashed packet of soup.
‘They put garlic in their minestrone,’ the woman said, looking round for support. ‘I told you I could smell garlic. What are you going to do about it?’
‘Someone bought this stuff,’ he said. ‘They should be back.’
‘A nice surprise they’ve got coming,’ she said. ‘You’d better speak to the management. Look at the mess you’ve made. That’s a traffic hazard. You’ll get cars skidding in it.’
On this she was right. The mess had to be mopped up. He asked if anyone would mind waiting there in case the owner of the shopping came back while he was getting help from the shop. His main critic didn’t volunteer, but a man with a child in his arms said he didn’t mind waiting.
Five minutes later Diamond returned with a Sainsbury’s employee with mop and bucket. The crowd had dispersed except for the man and child. Diamond thanked them and scanned the car park to see if anyone was searching for their missing shopping. He didn’t like to leave without offering to pay for the crushed items.
Just as he was thinking about leaving his phone number in the shop, he spotted a woman in the next aisle but one, turning her head as if she’d forgotten where her car was.
He went over. ‘Excuse me, but you’re not by any chance looking for two bags of shopping?’
‘Do you know where they are?’ she said. ‘I feel such an idiot. I put them down, and I can’t find them.’
At least she didn’t look the sort to make a scene. She stared at him with anxious, nervous blue eyes, her blonde tinted hair in disarray where she’d been rubbing her head. She was probably in her mid-forties, a few years younger than he was, dressed simply in a pale blue top and jeans.
He cleared his throat. ‘I, em, I’m afraid your shopping came to grief, ma’am. I ran over it in my car. Didn’t see it when I was reversing.’
She said, ‘Oh.’
‘I’m really sorry.’
But she was going to be reasonable. She shrugged and said, ‘Never mind. It’s obviously an accident. My fault for leaving it in a stupid place.’
‘It’s over there where the man is mopping up. I don’t think there’s anything left,’ he said. ‘Listen, why don’t we fill your trolley again and let me pay?’
‘You can’t do that,’ she said. ‘It wasn’t your fault.’
‘But it was. I should have noticed. A driver is responsible for the damage he does.’
‘It’s all right,’ she said. ‘I’m blaming myself, not you.’
‘That’s generous, but not quite right. I’ll sleep easier tonight if I’ve taken my share of the blame. At least let me help with the bill.’
She smiled. ‘You’re a true gent, but-’
‘It will ease my conscience.’
She gave another shrug and her lips curved again and she started walking towards the shop with Diamond at her side. ‘You’re probably wondering why this happened, why I abandoned my shopping.’
‘I’m curious.’
‘I was on my way to my car and I saw a child, a young girl of eight or nine, with a puppy on a lead. One of those gorgeous little dogs they use in the Andrex commercials.’
‘Golden Labrador.’
‘Right, very appealing. But the collar must have been loose because it pulled away from her and slipped its head free. It was off straight away and the child burst into tears. I saw this and put down my bags and set off in pursuit. A puppy running free in a busy car park isn’t going to last long. I wish I could say I caught it.’
‘You mean this has a sad ending?’
‘No, someone else picked up the pup. At least I was able to say whose it was and return it to the little girl. I met the mother and we tightened the collar a notch and all was well again. Happy ending.’
‘Depends what you mean by happy. In the meantime I’d destroyed your shopping.’
She gave the sort of smile that forgives without a word being spoken.
‘It wasn’t a pretty sight,’ he added.
He collected a trolley and they started shopping. She said she couldn’t remember what she’d bought.
‘Don’t you have a list?’
‘In my head usually,’ she said. ‘All this has played havoc with my concentration.’
He named the free-range eggs and the minestrone and told her about the dispute with the woman who could smell garlic. She laughed and said she hadn’t realised what a rough time he’d had. They walked the aisles trying to refresh her memory. A few items went into the trolley, but not enough to fill two bags. He suspected she was keeping the bill down.
At the checkout he gave his credit card to the cashier.
‘You said help with the bill, not pay it all.’
‘It’s OK.’ He had already keyed in his pin number.
On the way out she said with more seriousness, ‘It isn’t OK. I’m sorry, but I’m uncomfortable with this.’
‘Don’t be. I drove over two of your bags. This is only one.’
‘At least let me buy you a drink.’
‘Now? I’ll be driving home and so will you, I expect.’
‘Later, then.’
He was unprepared. He didn’t know how to respond.
She said, ‘My treat.’
‘Tonight, you mean?’
‘Say about eight thirty. Are you local?’
‘Not far.’ This had thrown him. He’d turned down her offer of a drink more sharply than he intended. She was insistent that she wanted to square things. She couldn’t have been more reasonable about losing her shopping. To walk away now would sour a pleasant encounter. ‘All right. You’re on.’
‘How about meeting here?’
‘The scene of the crime.’
7
I n his own house with all its memories he was less comfortable about what he had agreed. He hadn’t gone out for a drink with a woman in years, except for police colleagues when there was some work topic to be discussed. If he was going to take the plunge he’d have preferred not to be pulled in. ‘You won’t believe this, Raffles,’ he said as he opened a tin and forked tuna flakes onto the cat’s plate. ‘I’m going for a drink with a woman and I don’t even know her name.’
It wasn’t in his make-up to break a date with a lady, so he showered and thought about what to wear. He decided his daytime suit wasn’t right for this adventure. So what did he have in the wardrobe that was more relaxed and didn’t look as if it came out of a charity shop? Leather jackets had never gone out of fashion and they were safe from moths. He took his off the hanger for the first time in a couple of years and decided it would fit the occasion even if it didn’t fit the body. He wouldn’t button it up. Under it he’d wear a check shirt, jeans and trainers. He looked in the mirror to see if he needed another shave. Stubble was sexy these days, wasn’t it? Man, oh man, you’re acting like a sixteen-year-old, he told himself.
He drove back to the car park where all this had been set in motion and chose a slot at the opposite end from where he’d been before. Early as always, he sat listening to a football commentary without caring who the teams were. At eight thirty he got out and looked across the roofs of the parked cars to see who was about. Nobody he recognised. He locked up and strolled towards the spot where he’d driven over the bags. Sainsbury’s staff had done a good job of clearing up. Just a few bits of eggshell were lodged in a crack in the tarmac. It wasn’t all that long since he’d worked as a trolleyman and dogsbody himself in London, at that low point after he’d resigned from the force. He knew what it was like to be called to a mess with his mop and bucket.
He stood there, whistling quietly.
Ten minutes passed and he was getting reconciled to her not coming. Reconciled? Relieved, really. Sensible woman, she must have decided she’d acted on impulse. Just as he had.
Then a horn sounded behind him and he saw her at the wheel of a silver sports car. ‘I’ll find a space and join you,’ she called out.