She lay in bed afterward, curled in a fetal position, her hands pressed between her thighs, nerves all aflutter. What was it that he’d never told anyone before? How could she find out now? Had she kissed him back too much or too little? Should she have invited him in? Did he like her? It certainly seemed that way. What if they started dating and it didn’t work out but they had to carry on working in the same place? The mixture of anxiety and excitement kept her awake until the early hours, and she was groggy but smiling ear to ear when she collected Nicole from Peggy’s the following morning.

* * *

Next time they went to a movie Bill suggested dinner first, and it was lovely. Conversation flowed and they laughed easily, but still he seemed happy to leave her with a kiss at her front gate.

Maybe he doesn’t fancy me? Val worried. Maybe he’s just being friendly.

Then there was another date, and another, and suddenly it was Christmas break.

“Would you and Nicole like to come to Manly for a day over the holidays?” he asked. “I’ll make lunch, and I’m near the beach so you could have a splash in the waves.”

Val fretted over this. What would she tell Nicole? How would she explain who Bill was? In the end, she said a friend had invited them, and Nicole replied, “Cool!” and didn’t ask any questions.

Bill’s house was like a summer rental, just a couple of blocks from the beach. When he opened the door, his dog poked its head out to greet them, and Nicole squealed with delight and reached out to pat her.

“She’s so soft,” she cooed, stroking the silky ears.

“Her name’s Bess and she’s four years old,” Bill told her, but Nicole was so absorbed in the dog that she ignored him.

“Mommy, can we get a dog like this? I love her,” she trilled.

“I don’t know how she would get on with Toffee,” Val cautioned. Toffee was Nicole’s pet rabbit, who lived in a hutch in their backyard.

“They’d be best friends,” Nicole said airily, the expert on such matters.

Bill led them through to a big kitchen with glass doors opening onto a sunny terrace. On a table he had laid a spread of salads, cold meats, and roast chicken legs.

“I decided to make a self-service picnic in case there’s anything you don’t like, Nicole,” he told her.

She glanced at the table. “Eggs are the only thing I don’t like.”

“Phew! I didn’t do eggs.” He grinned.

They ate on the terrace. Bess lay by Nicole’s feet, eyes half closed but still alert for any food that might be dropped.

“I think you have a fan,” Bill said, and Nicole smiled, pleased with herself.