“Are you cold?” asked Nick.
“A little bit,” she replied, lightly stamping her feet. “I’ve been sunbathing all day.”
“I can get you a coat from inside?”
Georgia declined politely. She wasn’t about to wear some horrible coat, not knowing who’d worn it before her; she might be a working-class girl now, but she still had standards. The thought of wearing anything from inside there disgusted her; she’d seen some of Nick’s clients walking in when she’d spoken to him earlier, and most of them looked ghastly. She only hoped her face didn’t give her away.
“Evening, Harry,” said Nick, as an elderly man with a snowy white beard approached. “We’ve got tomato or chicken soup tonight. What do you fancy?”
Georgia balked when she saw him. He was horrible, with matted white hair, greasy skin and weari
