‘Yeah, well,’ Ned agreed, ‘don’t really have much option, do I?’

Later that same day, early evening just before they opened the bar, Baz sold a sizeable portion of the fresh produce to Val – for ‘mates’ rates’, naturally – the rest he kept in reserve to be sold the following day at exorbitant prices to those he knew could afford it, or to those who could offer good barter in exchange.

‘Only scored you a half-a-dozen eggs this time,’ he said, ‘the Aussies raided Ned’s chook house again.’

‘A half-a-dozen’s fine,’ Val replied.

As she counted out the money, she decided now would be a good time to issue the warning she’d planned. They were alone upstairs in her office.

‘There’s something I want to talk to you about, Baz.’

‘Right. I’m all yours. Fire away.’ He pocketed his earnings. ‘What can I get you, Boss? Something you want? Name it and it’s yours.’

‘Nope. Nothing I need.’

‘Ah. A bit of a chat then, eh?’ He waited for her to offer him a drink or at least ask him to sit down, but no, they remained standing. And she had a funny look in her eyes. ‘So what’s up?’

‘It’s about Jill.’

‘Oh yeah?’ A touch of bewilderment. ‘What about Jill?’

‘I want you to leave her alone.’

Distinct puzzlement. ‘What do you mean leave her alone? I haven’t touched her.’

‘Not yet you haven’t.’

A definite warning. ‘Oh come off it, Val, Jill’s not my type, you know that. I like them a bit flashier than Jill,’ he scoffed, as if pretty young Jill was downright plain.

Val felt a surge of something far stronger than annoyance, but she couldn’t allow her anger to show. ‘Then why do you keep flirting with her?’ she said coldly.

‘Can’t help who I am, love,’ he said with a careless shrug. ‘You know that. I’m just being me.’

Yes, she did know that, just as she knew he was right. She could expect no change in his behaviour and it would be wrong of her to ask. But she could extract a promise. That much she could most certainly do.

‘I want you to swear an oath to me, Baz,’ she said solemnly, ‘an oath that you’ll keep your hands off Jill.’

‘Sure, Val, no worries.’ He made a gesture of mock surrender; it was an easy promise. But he was intrigued nonetheless. That had been the funny look he’d seen in her eyes, he realised. Something really serious was troubling her. But Jill? Why Jill? He couldn’t help asking, ‘What’s the problem with Jill?’

‘She’s infatuated with you, that’s the problem,’ Val snarled. ‘She’s putty in your hands and you bloody well know it.’