“You know I never go to the beach. It’s always crowded. And bloody crowds suck.”
She was digging in, and my idea was sinking fast. On the other hand, sitting around the apartment again didn’t exactly unsuck. The paint would dry with or without us.
“Oh, I don’t know. It can’t always be busy. I mean the forecast was bloody doom by that gormless bellend on the tele.” I smiled my winningest smile.
She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “I still have this bloody report to finish and Bob’s your uncle.” The keys on the computer resumed clicking.
“How long will it take?” I asked.
“How long? I mean you’ve been going on all morning.”
The clicking stopped, and her mouth hung open just a bit. She looked at me over the top of her glasses. “Maybe an hour.”
“Jolly good. We can just make it then.”
“You’ve gone deaf, haven’t you?”
“Not quite, though the concert in the armory buggered my hearing.”
She wasn’t laughing, just piercing me with her hypnotic blue stare. “Oh, alright. Let’s go.”
When we pulled up, there was no one at the beach.
“You should have thought of this earlier,” she admonished.