Fran
Francesca's G reg Ford Fiesta nearly reversed into a row of trolleys. Maneuvering with more attention, she backed into an alternative space, across the aisle of the supermarket carpark.
"Daydreaming!" she chastised herself.
She couldn't stop thinking about Carl. It was as well this was a Saturday, so she wouldn't be seeing him again till Monday at work.
"And as for you, Fifi." she muttered to the car. "You don't want to go bumping into things. It's your MOT test next month, so you need to be on top form. You're ten years old now and need to be more careful!"
The engine over-ran and shuddered as she turned it off.
Carl Stevenson had recently arrived at her company. Blackstones had bought the derelict land adjacent to their office block and were building a new head office there. Their current location would be turned into a leisure area. There would be a coffee shop, a running track and an outlet shop where customers could buy their goods at discount. Carl had been brought in from London as project manager and would be working in the existing head office for the next eighteen months. He'd been allocated a workstation in Francesca's department and she sometimes carried out secretarial duties for him. Blackstones were paying his rent in a small place nearby. He was a handsome distraction, and the girls in her department were fussing around him; even the married ones. She shook herself, gathered her thoughts, and headed into PriceSmart. A passing black cloud turned the carpark grey.
She was most of the way to the far side of the store, and her trolley was full. She didn't particularly like shopping, so this load should last a week - probably two. There was only her and her daughter after all; her ex had long gone. Before Isabella had reached eighteen, he'd divorced Francesca, and disappeared to South Africa. Then he'd stopped all the maintenance payments. He hadn't even sent his daughter an eighteenth birthday card. So buying in bulk and making it last, was just being sensible. Less spent on petrol with supermarket trips. And the Fiesta had seen better days.
Francesca stopped in her tracks; she'd forgotten the potatoes and they were all the way back near the entrance. She finished loading the last items into the trolley, and went back. Now she was standing there with a five pound bag, and knew it should have gone on the bottom. It could crush the more delicate items on top, starting with the eggs. There was a metal ledge below the carrying space, so she put it there. Satisfied she had everything, she swung round to go to the check-out and nudged against a man in overalls. He was stacking packets of chili con carne mix. They slid gracefully out of the box he was holding, and scattered half way along the aisle.
"Oh, I'm so sorry!" she said. "I was daydreaming again."
These storeroom workers did a thankless job, and didn't get paid very much. Francesca was expecting an unpleasant response from him; surly at best.
"No harm done, miss. I'll soon have them back in place."
She rather liked the 'miss'. Squatting beside him, she helped pick them up. Then rose to her feet too quickly, and swayed. He grabbed one arm to support her and her other hand clutched at the trolley.
"Oops, steady." he said. "You got up too quckly."
Her head cleared and Francesca looked at the man. His trainers were probably cheap market rip-offs rather than genuine Nike. And his grey work uniform had the company logo on the top pocket, but no name. Supermarket status presumably; customers might like to check the name tags of check-out staff, but who would be bothered to speak to the back room boys?
He was good-looking in a rugged kind of way. His brown hair was unfashionably long, and he was rather too bristly around the chin for her taste. George Michael had a lot to answer for. She often played a mental game with strangers, trying to guess what kind of car they drove. She had this guy down for a motorbike; probably an old Harley. His hand on her upper arm hinted at muscles beyond, and his knuckles were touching her breast. He caught her eye and dropped it.
"You ok?"
"I'm fine. Got up too quickly, as you said."
In the check-out queue, her mind was wandering again.
"You're on!" said the woman in front, removing the 'Next Customer' wedge.
Francesca put her purchases onto the conveyor belt, on autopilot. She wondered what Carl's hand would feel like against one breast. More than just knuckles... more than one breast perhaps. As she loaded everything back into the trolley, she picked up a packet.
"What's this?"
"Colman's chili con carne mix, madam." said the girl on the cash register.
"I can see that!" Francesca replied, irritated. "I mean who put it in there?"
There was a collective sigh of frustration from the shoppers further down the line. This was going to slow them down.
"Well I rather imagined you did. It's your trolley, and I've rung it up now."
"My fault entirely." said a voice at her shoulder.
There was a collective sigh of relief... salvation! A hero in grey had come to the rescue. He picked up the chili mix and looked at the check-out girl.
"You can void this Molly." he said. "I must have dropped it in the lady's trolley accidentally, and have been looking for it. I knew I was one short."
He grinned at Francesca and looked down. She followed his gaze and spotted the potatoes.
"Did you pay for them?" he whispered.
"No, sorry!" she whispered back.
He picked them up and passed them to Molly.
"And add these to the total. My fault again; I moved them to the lower ledge when I helped the lady repack."
Molly looked sullen.
"I'll have to issue a new receipt now Bob." she whined.
"Then do so."
There was a somewhat harder edge to his politeness now; rather at odds with his status. And a feeling in the queue that their irritation had transferred from Francesca to Molly.
"Thank you so much." she said, arriving at the exit doors. "I
was
going to pay for those potatoes, honestly. I just forgot I'd put them there."
"No problem. I've done the same thing myself."
"You're very polite, but I don't believe that for one moment. Good timing, you coming to my rescue like that."
"Bad timing with the weather though." he said. "That thunderstorm they promised has arrived."
Right on cue, there was a flash of lightning and the heavens opened. A second later, a huge boom of thunder. There would be times in the future when Francesca would remember this moment in detail. Their meeting - well second meeting - accompanied by lightning and 'B' movie sound effects.
"Got an umbrella?" he asked.
"No. I suppose my hero is going to whip one out of mid-air and walk me to my car... sorry, that sounded rude."
He laughed.
"I'm on a break now. Why not come to our coffee shop? The forecast says this will pass soon."
There was plenty of space round the tables. People kept their trolleys close.
"Looks like an airport doesn't it?" he said.
"How do you mean?"
"People drinking coffee and keeping their luggage next to the table. Hoping to get away soon."
"I suppose it does." Francesca laughed.
She was surprised a shelf stacker had ever been to an airport. Then admonished herself for being such a snob. She'd only flown twice herself.
There was the usual half-hearted argument about who should pay. But Bob said there were three reasons why it should be him. The first two were: he had invited her, and he got a staff discount. She found him entertaining and was comfortable in his company. There was one last moment of slight embarrassment as they were about to leave.
"Is there some reason you don't want to tell me your name?" he asked. "You know I'm Bob. Bob Rice actually."
"Sorry!" she said. "Of course not. I'm Francesca."
"Lovely name."
The moment passed and she diffused thiings by holding out her hand. He grinned at her pink face and shook it. His grip was firm, but not crushing. Their contact was a second or two longer than necessary. She felt a tingle. The rain cleared and he did indeed come and help her pack the groceries into the car.
"You should have parked nose-in." he said.
"I was always told to reverse into carpark spaces."
"Usually, yes. But at the supermarket, it's easier to fill the boot, if it's on the outside."
It hadn't occurred to her.
