this morning. I was just bringing him home.”
Luke looks over at Geezer, then turns back to me.
“Did he? I hope he wasn’t a nuisance?”
“No, not at all. We had a very relaxing morning together, actually. It’s just that I have to go over to the store and get some supplies, and I didn’t want to leave him alone in the cottage. I thought you might be wondering where he was.”
“I didn’t even know he was gone, to be honest. He wanders in and out of here all day. But thanks. If he’s getting in your way, I can keep a closer eye on him.”
“No, it’s nothing like that. It was nice to have some company.”
He smiles, nodding.
“Yeah, he’s not much of a talker, but he’s a good listener, aren’t ya boy?”
Geezer doesn’t even lift his head, just watches us from his spot by the tent.
“If you’re sure you’re okay, I’ll get going then,” I say, running out of small-talk.
He takes a couple of steps closer, still holding his shoulder.
“You heading over to the store, did you say?” he asks.
“Yeah.”
“Would you mind picking something up for me?”
It’s impossible to say no, but for some reason I want to. I don’t want to get too close to him, and running errands for each other is way too close.
“What do you need?”
“Dog biscuits. I’m running low but it’s the only thing I really need, and I’d rather not make a special trip across the lake if I can help it.”
Now I feel like a real shit. He’s not asking for himself, he’s asking for Geezer.
“Right. Yeah, that’s fine. I can do that, not a problem.”
His relief is palpable.
“Thanks, that’s great. Just hang on for a sec?”
He makes a brisk retreat, digging into a box beside the tent, and comes back with an almost-empty bag of dog biscuits, which he hands to me.
“He likes these ones. I’ve bought them from the store before, so they should have them. If they don’t, don’t worry about it. I’m due to go over to town in a couple days, I can grab some from the supermarket while I’m there. I’ve got plenty of dog meat left, so he won’t starve. It’s just, well, he likes to have biscuits as well. He’s kinda spoilt.”
He looks embarrassed, but it’s sweet. I take a look at the bag. There’s a good chance I won’t remember the name by the time I get over to the store. It’s been a long time since I trusted my memory.
“Do you want to take the bag with you?” he asks.
I wonder if he can read my mind, and my cheeks immediately burn hot at the thought.
“Thanks,” I mumble, folding it up, avoiding his eyes.
“And take this,” he says, handing me some money.
“No, no, it’s fine,” I say, pushing his hand away. “My treat.”
In reality, I’ll say just about anything to get me away from here quickly.
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. I’ll be back soon.”
“Okay. Thanks for this. Really appreciate it. I know he will, too.”
I look up and he’s smiling at me. There’s no trace of judgement or pity.
“No worries,” I say, backing away with the bag. “I’ll see you later.”
I can feel him watching me as I retreat into the bushes, and when I pull out onto the lake in the boat a short time later, I look over and he’s still watching. He waves at me from his settlement amongst the trees. I wave back, then open up the throttle and head across the lake, my stomach still churning from our little exchange. Does he notice how ill-equipped I am to deal with things like remembering a brand of dog biscuits? I’ve left the bag at home, but jotted it down on my list instead.
The jetty is quiet when I pull in at the other side of the lake, just me and two other boats moored there. I walk past the back door of the café, across the grass and up the gravel driveway beside the small row of buildings that service both the passing road traffic and the lake-dwellers like me. There’s a petrol station, a small, independently-owned convenience store, the café, and an off-licence
Barbara Boswell, Lisa Jackson, Linda Turner