“Hello, Noddy,” she said.

“I’m sorry to interrupt but I haven’t had a chance to apologise properly.”

“Please, don’t worry.” Keely was acutely aware of Marty and Mike watching with interest.

“No, I must,” he said. “I really am very sorry. I don’t usually throw myself half naked at chicks on the first date.”

He grinned and Keely felt as if she was glowing like a lighthouse.

“You’re the body surfer.” Mike wagged his finger at Noddy.

“I’m better on the water,” Noddy said.

“Have a seat.” Marty dragged another chair closer. “Would you like a drink?”

“I’ll get it.” Keely leapt to her feet, nearly upsetting her own glass, still untouched, on the table where Flynn had placed it.

“Thanks, Keely. A glass of Levallier red would be good.” He grinned. “Not as good as ours, of course, but a passable drop.” He turned away back to Marty and Mike. “So, you guys do a bit of surfing?”

Keely went to the bar where Flynn had lined up three glasses of red.

“I assume Noddy is having a glass,” he said.

“Yes.”

“I’ll take them over.”

Keely didn’t follow him but watched from the bar as he put down the drinks and joined in the conversation with the other three. Steve was still talking with Euan at the end of the bar. Beside him, her collection of bead jewellery was all gone but for a couple of bracelets. She allowed herself a little smile.

There was a clutter of used glasses under the counter and she realised she’d left her tray over by the door, where Marty had caught her in the hug. She bent down to look for something else to put them on.

“I’ve got to duck inside for a moment,” Euan said quietly beside her. “Do you mind keeping an eye on things here?”

Keely straightened up. “That’s fine,” she said. There was no one left at the bar anyway. Steve had gone to join the others. Besides them there were only a couple of other small groups at tables, lingering over their drinks.

She busied herself cleaning up behind the bar, until a woman left one of the groups and approached her.

“I’d like to take a dozen of the Scarecrow Dry White,” she said.

“Certainly.” Keely went through to the carport where the boxes were stacked. She was amazed to see how much the supplies had dwindled. She picked up one of the last cartons of Scarecrow and carried it back, just as Flynn was rounding the bar.

“Oh, Keely, you’re here.”

“Yes. But you’re just in time. This lady wants a dozen of your dry white.” She put the carton on the bar.

“Are you the winemaker?” the woman asked.

“I am,” Flynn said.

“We really enjoyed it and the label is a nice touch.”