“But Mr. Gupta let you go home early anyway?” George asked.

“He was impressed with my initiative,” Lucy said. “And it was an accident. In fact, I’m going down the pub later to buy her a drink as an apology.”

George waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “An ‘apology’ drink, is it?”

“Don’t be an idiot. Of course it is.”

“Dunno. You go around knocking tourists off their feet and then buying them drinks and sooner or later you’re going to end up with a date.”

“She’s not a tourist,” Lucy said.

And this wasn’t a date. Absolutely not. Probably. It had been odd though, being on top of a woman like that. Such an intimate position and in such a public place. Lucy squirmed a little at the thought of it.

It had been alright when she’d thought Cal was a man, but once she’d turned out to be female, well, it had been different, hadn’t it? More… personal somehow. She had nice eyes, Lucy remembered that. Nice, kind eyes. Even when she’d been cross and bleeding her eyes had still been nice and kind.

“Hey,” George said, waving a hand in front of her face.

“What?”

“I asked you who she was if she’s not a tourist.”

“Oh, um, she said she grew up here, just around for a few days. Cal, her name is.”

“Cal…” George shrugged. “Might sound a bit familiar. You should ask Pen, Pen’ll know who she is. And if she’s gay, Pen probably dated her at some point.”

“I didn’t say she was gay,” Lucy said.

She’d assumed though. Which she was ashamed of now that she thought about it. Cal with her man’s shirt and her short hair and no make up, she’d just assumed that the woman was lesbian without finding out or asking or anything. Fuck. She should be more careful about things like that, it wasn’t right to make those kinds of assumptions.

“Oh, suppose it can’t be a date then,” said George.

“I didn’t say she wasn’t either,” said Lucy, somehow stung by the fact that George didn’t think she could get a date if she wanted one.

“Well then, you should ask Pen about her,” he said. Then he frowned. “What’s all this about a secret honeymoon? You know as well as I do where Pen and Ash are going.”

“Yeah, but we don’t know why, do we?” Lucy said.

George rolled his eyes. “They probably got a good deal off the internet is all. Don’t read too much into it.”

“Right,” Lucy said, picking up her cup again. “Except Pen said that the reason they were going to South America would beobvious when they came home.”

“She’s messing with you,” George said, standing up. “But I’ll grill her about it tomorrow anyway. Now I’m off out for a run. Fancy coming with me? Just down the beach and back.”

“No,” Lucy said. “Actually, I think I might wash my hair.”

“Good luck with that,” said George, stretching his legs against one of the kitchen chairs. “Billy took one of his baths this morning. There won’t be enough hot water to fill an egg cup.”

AFTER A LUKEWARM shower, Lucy went out into the garden to warm up in the sunshine, hair up in a towel.

“It’s not hairwash day,” Billy said as she sat on the kitchen step.

“I can wash my hair when I like.”

“Never said you couldn’t,” said Billy, pruning shears in his hand lopping off a section of a rose brush. “Bloody aphids are everywhere already.”

“Yeah?” asked Lucy, not entirely sure what an aphid was.

“They’re bugs,” Billy said. “Ladybirds eat them, and some kinds of ants farm them.”