At the Sandy Beach Motel we were booked into rooms 10 and 11. It overlooked the ocean but our rooms were at the back, with no view. Frankie disappeared into her room to have an afternoon nap and I made a cup of instant sawdust from the supplied coffee sachets and watched an old James Bond movie on TV. I peered out the window several times, checking the car park and surrounds for vehicles that looked familiar or suspicious, though I really didn’t have a clue what I was looking for and felt like a paranoid, curtain-twitching old biddy.
Frankie knocked on my door at a quarter to six. She’d changed into a summery dress and a lacy cardigan. Her hair was out in all its glorious mess and she looked as if she’d just stepped out of a Scandinavian ad for shampoo.
‘Wow! What a transformation!’ I sa
