Blind Date

It was the first time either of them had ever mentioned marriage.

Nothing much was said when she came for the rest of her belongings -- there didn't seem much point -- but he loaded the boxes into the car for her and gave her a tender good-bye kiss.

He moped around the office feeling sorry for himself for the whole week, unable to concentrate on work until, on Friday afternoon, Mick, his business partner, exclaimed in exasperation,

"For Heaven's sake Gary, try and pull yourself together. It's not the end of the world. Here's the key of my place at the Coast. Go down to Broulee, surf, lay on the beach, get yourself sorted out. You're overdue for a holiday anyway and we can get by without you for the next couple of weeks, particularly in the state you are in at the moment. I'll get in touch if we need you. Take your mobile phone -- I don't have the phone on at the house."

Gary had visited Mick and his family at Broulee several times and reluctantly agreed that a week or two in that quiet little town by the sea might be what he needed.

After his close encounter with the farmer and his dogs he needed a break. He sat in the late autumn sunshine on the veranda of the cafe sipping his cappuccino and picking at a slice of carrot cake. Thinking about it dispassionately, he realised his relationship with Jan had only really worked in bed, where it had worked magnificently. She had moved into his apartment and his bed a scant two weeks after they met. For the rest of it, they had little in common. They didn't like the same television or radio programs, he usually loathed the movies she liked and was bored by the ballet, opera and symphony concerts she loved. They had long given up trying to go out together except for an occasional meal and, with few friends in common, dinner parties were usually a disaster. And she was totally disinterested in anything to do with computers. But he still missed her desperately. Resolving to forget about her for the time being and concentrate on getting to the Coast in one piece, he ordered another coffee before resuming the drive.

The girl and her dog were standing patiently by the side of the road on the outskirts of town. The dog was wearing one of those harness things that guide dogs wear. He pulled up beside them.

"Can I help? Where are you heading?"

"Are you going to the Coast?" she asked.

"Yes, to Broulee."

"I need to get to Bodalla. If you could take us as far as the Broulee turnoff, I'm sure we can easily get another lift from there."

The old labrador jumped lazily on to the back seat while he helped her into the front and fastened the seat belt for her before stowing her pack in the boot. When they were on their way again, he introduced himself.

"Hi! I'm Gary."

"I'm Susan," and with a wave of her hand towards the dog which was already half asleep, "And her name's Gypsy."

She wore heavy dark glasses under a shapeless, floppy hat, an old, army style camouflage jacket over a garish floral shirt and faded jeans. Gary guessed she was in her early twenties. On the way down the mountain to the Coast she told him she worked as a switchboard operator in one of the large Government offices in Canberra and was on her way to spend two weeks with her mother in Bodalla.

"A friend drove us to the outskirts of Canberra and we got a lift as far as Braidwood from there."

Then, in response to her intelligent questions, he found himself involved in a long and detailed explanation of his own work. From a quick calculation, based on the distances he saw on a sign where the road from Canberra joins the coastal highway at Batemans Bay, he realised it would only take him an extra half hour or so to see her safely in Bodalla.

"I'm not in any hurry, so if it will help, I can drive you all the way. It's not very far."

"Thank you. That'd be wonderful. If you could just drop us in front of the Post Office, Gypsy and I can find our way home from there."

When he pulled up outside the Post Office, they both seemed loath to end their brief encounter. As she fumbled with her seat belt, he said,

"You're staying for two weeks, aren't you. So am I. If it would help, I can give you and Gypsy a lift back to Canberra - either on Saturday or Sunday - whichever suits you."

"Thanks. That would be a great help, but before I accept, I owe you an apology and an explanation." Removing the dark glasses she revealed sparkling, intelligent, deep blue eyes and the words came tumbling out.

"You see, I'm not really blind but I haven't got a car and they won't let me take Gypsy on the bus. It was the only way I could think of to get her down here. The family I stay with in Canberra usually look after her when I come to see Mum but they were going away too and she would have hated going to the kennels. I really am a switchboard operator and one of the girls I work with is blind. As a joke, she suggested I should pretend to be blind, then dared me to do it, offering to lend me her guide dog's spare harness. I hope you don't mind.'

He laughed then looked deep into those sparkling blue eyes.

"Of course I don't mind. I'm very pleased you aren't blind but you are still going to have the same problem with the dog on the way back. I would be delighted to give both of you a lift.'

"Oh! And there's something else," she said hesitantly. With a few deft movements of her hands, she removed her shapeless hat and let her long, fair hair cascade down to her shoulders. "I don't normally dress like this. It's my blind hitch-hiker outfit," she said with a giggle."I bought it specially at the St. Vincent de Paul shop."

"That's another load off my mind." he said, taking her hand in his. "I noticed an interesting looking restaurant on the way into town. Perhaps we could have lunch there one day next week?"

"Would Monday or Tuesday be too soon? I'll need a break from Mum by then."

"That will be fine. Now, show me where your Mum lives and I'll pick you up at twelve on Monday."

After delivering them to her mother's place he drove back to Broulee where he removed the mobile phone from his belt, turned it off and locked it in the glove box of the car, promising himself that it would stay there for the next two weeks -- unless he needed it to call Susan in Bodalla.