He felt a little presumptuous and was not without a coating of sweat under his arms that he felt stick to his shirt, grateful it was navy blue.

The car was doing its ticking, creaking, cool down. He walked up the three shallow steps, formed by red brick in herringbone pattern, and stood in front of the large brown door.

He turned around, watched a hummingbird with wings a blur fly off the bougainvillea on his step-noise arrival and his casting shadow.

There was a dulled brass button that was, he hoped, a working bell and without allowing nerves to alter his intention, he offered the middle finger of his right hand to the rounded and smoothed surface. He pressed and heard nothing, so pressed again, the same absence of noise, so thought he should wait.

And wait he did.

He assumed that the bell didn’t work. He was preparing to knock or leave, he wasn’t quite sure which action to take, but in that moment of pondering, the door opened and Manita stood with an unsurprising absence of expression but with a greeting of,

‘Hello’ –

that carried a degree of pleasantry.

‘Is Miss Nairn in? I mean available to see me. That is if she wants to see…’

Before he could finish his meandering explanation, which by the fact he was standing at the door, made his intention obvious, Manita disappeared and in the action of turning around, closed the door. Safety of course, he thought, she wouldn’t leave it open while checking.

Don’t lose confidence. Of course, totally understandable, and before his jumbling thoughts were allowed completion, Lomita Nairn opened the door and was standing before him.

Backlit from the low lantern sun that hung at the back of her garden and invaded through the large window.

She looked like an exercise in perspective.

And dramatic.

They both smiled.

His followed hers, which had been there as she was opening the door. But she was first. He consoled himself, she must have been the first to smile.

‘Hello. I sincerely hope you don’t mind me calling around unannounced, it’s just I had no way of announcing. I mean—’

‘Not at all. Please come in. It is truly lovely to see you. And thank God tea is over and it’s time for a drink. Give me ten minutes, I will change and you can do something for me…’

A pause.

‘…that I would dearly love.’

‘Of course, I would be delighted.’

There was no pause before his reply.

‘Take me out for a goddam cocktail. Somewhere glamorous and it’s on me. I’ll be back.’