JOSEF: I’m sorry?

NANCY: Never mind. Good of you to take such care of them. Brown paper covers on and everything. [Putting the books aside] Only hope you didn’t come all the way to Melbourne to return them?

JOSEF: No, no. Now my job as an interpreter is over, I am planning I should study here. A degree in Modern Languages.

NANCY: Oh, ought to get yourself somewhere to stay round these parts then. The university’s just down the road.

JOSEF’s glance takes in the room, and she recants hastily:

No no, not this place. I didn’t mean here.

JOSEF: This is not a boarding house?

NANCY: Well yes, it is, but more for casuals these days. You want somewhere you can really settle in—tell you what. Olive’s mother—you remember Olive?

JOSEF nods.

Well, her mother runs this place, and she knows all the boarding houses in the district. I’ll ask if she can recommend you somewhere you’ll be really comfortable.

JOSEF: I do not wish to trouble you.

NANCY: A bag of shells. But look, I’ll have to be getting off to the pub. Sorry I—

She reaches for her coat and he immediately picks it up and holds it for her. An unexpected courtesy.

Oh, ta—sorry I can’t offer you a cup of tea, or anything.

JOSEF: Is alright.

He settles the coat around her shoulders.

You are in good health?

NANCY: Yes, I’m fine.

JOSEF: I can remember at the City Club there was a time when you had hurt yourself—were not so well—

NANCY: Oh, that. That was nothin’. Fit as a fiddle these days. [Grabbing her handbag] We’re working at the Duke of Wellington, Ol and me. Not a bad pub.

JOSEF: You must show me where it is.

NANCY: Please yourself.

They move into the hall and she burrows into her handbag as he opens the street door.

Just make sure I got my keys—you go out and wait, will you? Won’t be a sec.

JOSEF moves out onto the front verandah. NANCY quickly returns to the main room. She seizes the glass of whisky she had put aside and gratefully drinks the contents. She puts the glass and whisky bottle back into the cupboard and then hastens out to join JOSEF, closing the street door behind her.

All serene. I’m blind as a bat these days.

He formally offers her his arm.

Ah.

She links her arm in his, and they move for the street.

Fancy you remembering those books? And how about the university? Never known anyone been to the university—not to say like, that I knew them—

They have gone.

SCENE TWO

Time: that evening.

Firelight, and a cosy atmosphere. BARNEY is stretched out on the chaise longue, his bare feet resting on a towel-covered cushion, an occasional tuft of cotton wool between his toes. A small table at his elbow has a hand towel, a bowl of water and accessories, treatment for his minor tropical skin ailments.