He looked up and found Angie studying him gently.

‘I’ll take you to the beach and we’ll sort it all out,’ she said. ‘No worries. We’ll find a quiet bit of water and I’ll have you swimming in no time. I taught Lynne when she was only four.’

‘Probably chucked her in the deep end and rolled around laughing.’

‘I never did, you little brat! I don’t know why I’m even bothering, but when we go to the beach, it’ll be okay, you’ll see…’ She stopped, for someone had placed a hand on her shoulder and was grinning down into her upturned face. Angie didn’t return the smile, but the man acted as though she had. He sat on the bench next to her and nodded across at Seymour.

‘How are you going, mate?’ he asked. Although it was so hot, he wore a handsome leather jacket. Everything about him looked smooth and expensive, particularly the gold link chain around one wrist. He beamed at Seymour over the table, smiling and smiling. Seymour watched him, uncertainly. Something was wrong about that smile—the man’s eyes above it were as cold as coins. Angie didn’t make any introductions. She shoved her pencil inside her handbag, zipped it shut and started to get up.

‘Come on, Seymour, we’d better make a move,’ she said, but a hand was placed over hers where it lay on the handbag.

‘What’s the hurry, Deb?’ the man said. ‘Haven’t seen you around for some time, have I? Now, don’t go rushing off on me. What have you been up to? Last time I heard, you and James were racketing all over Sydney taking the town apart.’

‘My, you do know everything that’s going on, don’t you?’

‘Well, you know how it is…Who’s the little playmate?’

‘Seymour,’ Angie said curtly. ‘He’s on school holidays and I’m taking him out for the day.’

‘Fancy that, I never imagined you as a babysitter. No, don’t go. I’ll shout you a drink.’

Seymour looked down at the hand, large and implacable, as solid as a heavy white china plate. Angie’s fingers were scarcely visible and he had the unpleasant sensation of watching a leopard’s paw placed over a trapped butterfly. Angie gave a vicious little tug and finally freed her hand, but the man still didn’t go away. He held out two dollars to Seymour.

‘How about you go over to the canteen and get yourself a drink?’ he said affably.

‘He’s got one already,’ Angie said and Seymour felt her shoe nudging his stealthily under the table, signalling him not to go. In embarrassment he pretended to suck on the straw, trying not to gulp air so that the man would know the waxed container was empty.

‘Your escort for the day, is he? Bringing you any luck, any big wins?’