Jess suppressed a desire to say, ‘Oh God Marion, not me’ but instead smiled and said she must press on and went to the counter, heart pounding. Jess flushed at the thought of she and Scott going to bed early to become better acquainted. Behind the counter the weary looking Mrs Perkins, attempting to manage without an assistant after the morning rush and dressed in shapeless granny-print, asked was Jess all right, or was she running a fever as she had a high colour. ‘Just a naughty thought out of the blue made me blush, Mrs Perkins. I had an image of a man in white shorts with rippling muscles.’ ‘Oh dear, please call me Peg dear. I used to have thoughts like that when I needed a man but age has taken care of that. Is he here at Awarua Beach?’ Jess attempted to avoid lying. ‘I shouldn’t think so.’ ‘Marion Street’s boy arrived home two days ago. I haven’t had the pleasure of seeing him stripped but imagine he’d have rippling muscles.’ ‘I’m writing a novel which means no place in my mind. A slight prick of panic crept across his chest as he focused his eyes carefully in a futile effort to locate a familiar landmark. But all he saw was his rejected dinner date standing several yard in front of him with her hands on her hips and that damned disarming smile stretching across her face. She slowly approached him with her eyes fixed on his."You lookin' for me, sailor?"He made a snap decision, figuring she could help him back to the ship when their encounter was over and reached his hand out to her. She grasped it firmly; her delicate fingers curling around his securely. Without a word, she led him across the busy street and down a dark alley to an obscure flight of wooden stairs. She felt his hesitancy, and gently coaxed him on with a reassuring squeeze of her hand. Once on the third level, she reached inside her brassiere and withdrew a single shiny key that she opened the old creaking door with. She flipped on the light, threw her coat onto an old wooden table, and winked.
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