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stopped.
Sorry, Tony.
    ‘Happy New Year to you. Where’re you headed?’
    ‘I’m goin’ to Rockford.’
    ‘Fine; that’s on my way.’ Rockford is about fifteen miles down the road. ‘Help me move Jones into the back.’
    He squats down, puts a finger through the wire front of the carrier and scratches Jones’s head. ‘Hey, buddy, sorry ’bout that.’ Jones closes his eyes and purrs
loudly.
    Lizzie unbuckles his seat-belt. ‘He doesn’t mind; he’s a real sweetie.’
    As she goes to lift the carrier, the hitchhiker takes it from her. ‘Here, I got it.’ He hefts it easily over the front seat and settles it in the back. ‘There you go, Jones;
all safe and sound. Let’s clip you in there.’
    Then he picks up his rucksack and hauls it in beside the cat-carrier. ‘Hey, Jones, keep an eye on my stuff, OK?’ He wags a finger at Jones, who blinks back at him.
    Lizzie laughs. ‘Shut up and get in before you freeze us out of it.’ She wonders if he’ll mind being told to shut up. Probably not – the free lift will take the sting out
of it. He hops in and pulls the door shut, and she puts the car in gear and drives off. The hitchhiker turns sideways in his seat and pokes a finger in at Jones, who mews at him.
    ‘I’m Pete, by the way.’
    ‘I’m Lizzie – and Jones you’ve already met.’ She glances down at his feet. ‘Do you mind my asking why you’re in sandals in the middle of an Irish
winter?’
    Pete smiles ruefully. ‘Yeah, looks kinda strange, I guess. My boots are wet through from yesterday, so I had no choice.’
Good, at least he has boots. Not totally insane,
then.
    ‘You must be frozen; hang on.’ She directs the hot air towards his feet and turns it up full blast. As he begins to feel the warmth, he wriggles his toes and sighs happily.
    ‘Hey, that feels gooood.’ He manoeuvres out of the sandals and pushes them aside, then wriggles his thick-socked toes again. Lizzie smiles; he reminds her of Jones – slow,
lazy, easy.
    ‘I presume you’re American.’
    He cocks his head at her and puts on a mock-astonished expression. ‘Hey, that’s amazing. How the heck did you know?’
    She laughs. ‘Whereabouts in the States?’
    ‘Tennessee, and upstate New York, but I been livin’ here in Ireland for the past year.’ She loves his drawl; much more attractive than the flat Kilmorris accent.
    ‘Don’t tell me – you came to find your roots.’
    He grins and shakes his head. ‘No, ma’am. Don’t believe I’ve a drop of Irish blood in me, unfortunately. No, I came here to get away from all that US crap. Got tired of
the whole materialism thing there – all those weapons, all that macho stuff, specially after 9-11; I wanted to take some time out and just chill.’
    Hmmm – a not-so-typical American.
‘So you came over to holy Catholic Ireland.’ Pete raises his eyebrows at her and smiles, but says nothing. ‘You must like it if
you’re still here.’
    He nods. ‘Sure do. Good people, still got some values.’ He looks over at her. ‘So what’s your story?’ He cocks his head at the cat-carrier. ‘Where’re
you and Jones headed?’
    Lizzie grins. ‘We’re going on an adventure.’
    He raises his eyebrows in delight. ‘No kiddin’ – sort of a Thelma and Louise thing?’
    She’s thrilled at the comparison; all she needs is the scarf and the glasses. And the convertible. ‘Exactly – except we don’t intend to kill anyone, and we probably
won’t rob anyplace either.’ She shoots a look over at him. ‘And I should tell you that I have no intention of driving off a cliff.’
    ‘Well, now, I’m kinda relieved to hear that.’ Pete settles himself more comfortably into his seat, head turned towards her. ‘So tell me more about this
adventure.’
    She smiles. ‘God, where do I start? Until today I lived at home with my parents.’
    ‘No kiddin’? Never left the nest?’ She looks over at him again – is he laughing at her? – but he seems genuinely