"Um, Babs has just been," I told her carefully, looking her in the eye. “She was asking Edward about his plays. I'm, er . . . going down to the beach. For a swim." I abandoned all further eye contact and turned, cravenly, to scuttle after Babs. No costume, no towel, no nothing. Too lily-livered to dart upstairs to fetch them. Because by the time I came down, the music might well have started. I turned, made haste, and fled.

Chapter 18

Did I mention I was barefoot, such was my haste? Happily it didn't matter because I was heading to the beach, but, as I did, it occurred to me that I was also incredibly hungry, and, not only did I not have shoes, I didn't have the wherewithal to silence my rumbling stomach. Since I might have to be gone for some time, this could be a problem. There was a tiny beach café just a bit further along, where they served delicious coffee and toasted sandwiches. I wondered, as I made my way towards it, if I could possibly prevail upon the patrons to advance me a morsel of lunch? Which I would obviously reimburse them for as soon as was humanly possible?

The café operated out of a pale blue Volkswagen camper van. The small fenced garden was already well populated, the clientele mostly of the young, wave-riding kind. Plenty of wetsuits were being sported and there were a few boards piled up in the corner: music was playing. I went through the garden and tested my idea on the two young surfing dudes who were behind the makeshift counter in their blue-and-white stripy butchers’ aprons. Their bright, welcoming, toothpaste smiles, which had flashed up so promisingly when I'd approached, faded.

They looked genuinely upset. The blond boy scratched his woolly, wave-tossed hair.

“You know, we'd really like to say yes, because you're so obviously kosher, and you've told us where you live and everything, but the thing is, we've been stung once too often. So we now have this policy, that we don't run a tab.”

"Last summer," added his friend who looked as if he'd been through the washing machine with a tub of Vanish he was so bleached, "I'm not gonna lie, not one person came back to pay."

“Oh, that's appalling. How dreadful. Yes, of course. I do see, absolutely. No, well, I'm sorry to have asked. Sorry to have put you on the spot.” I made to move on, thoroughly embarrassed and pretty pink now because there were a couple of people behind me. I was far too old for the begging, urchin look. I should have gone, I realized, to Pam Maynard in the bakery, who'd known me since I was born, although that, of course, would have involved a barefoot pilgrimage down the high street. I turned to go, when suddenly a large, tanned paw came from nowhere, between me and the counter, clasping a tenner. A familiar voice in my ear said: