He appears on the front verandah to salute ROO with an exaggerated respect.

Ready when you are—sir.

He moves on towards the street. Meanwhile OLIVE has collected her handbag, and is on her way to the street door when she meets EMMA in the hallway.

EMMA: What have you got on tonight, you lot?

OLIVE: Don’t know yet. A dance, maybe. If Barney’s feet can stand it.

EMMA: Well, you be home in proper time to get your meal. You hear me?

OLIVE: Yes, Mum.

She moves out onto the verandah, shutting the street door behind her. She joins the waiting ROO. He reaches a hand for the brown paper packet, but she shifts it into the crook of her arm.

No, I’ll carry that.

ROO: Doesn’t bother me.

OLIVE: Give it to you at the station.

She tucks her free hand through his arm and they move for the street.

[Gladly] Sun’s coming out. ’S gunna be a nice day.

In the hallway, EMMA has had a frowning moment of contemplation, and now removes her apron, to don a street hat and coat from the hall stand.

EMMA: [calling upstairs] Nancy?

NANCY: [from above] Yes?

EMMA: One or two things I want to see to. I’ll go out the back way. Leave the dishes, I’ll do ’em when I come home.

NANCY: Righto.

EMMA picks up the discarded apron and starts for the kitchen.

All the best with it.

EMMA: [pausing suspiciously] Best with what?

NANCY: [coming downstairs, dressed for work] The telephone.

EMMA: Nobody mentioned nothin’ ’bout a telephone. There’s things I’ve got to talk about with Mister Bromige.

NANCY: Well—all the best, whatever it is.

EMMA leaves, pointedly avoiding any further comment.

NANCY comes into the living room and puts aside the coat and handbag she is carrying. The distant banging of the kitchen door is heard. NANCY moves to the cupboard and extracts a bottle of whisky and a glass. She pours herself a shot and takes a drink, savouring the effect.

JOSEF HULTZ, carrying a briefcase, makes his way onto the front verandah and hesitatingly knocks at the street door.

Holding her glass, NANCY moves to the front window, peering through at the back view of the visitor.

[Calling] Mrs Leech is out!

JOSEF turns towards the window in slight confusion.

The lady of the house—she’s out.

JOSEF: I am sorry. It is not the lady of the house—

NANCY: Be back later on.

JOSEF: You do not know me?

He approaches the window and offers his face for inspection.

It is I, Miss Wells.

NANCY: [adjusting her spectacles] You’ve got me.

JOSEF: Josef Hultz.

NANCY: Josef—

JOSEF: Hultz. You don’t remember so—you used to call me Fieldmouse.

NANCY: Field— [A light dawning] Oh, I do remember. Yes, I do—the City Club. Downstairs bar—

JOSEF: Five o’clock on Tuesdays and on Thursdays.