By the time Grace got back to the promenade, it was nearly half past ten. Joan, shivering in a jacket now the sun was long set, handed Grace a can of beer and looked her up and down.
‘How many times did you change outfits? And you only needed to wear a hat. No need to brush your hair. We’re going to exorcise demons, not pick up.’
Grace felt herself blushing. I can’t go into a full pub without a bit of makeup.’
‘I do.’
‘Well, you’re in a relationship.’
Joan lifted an eyebrow. ‘You think I don’t try for my man?’
‘I didn’t mean—’
Joan laughed. ‘Come on, Graceful. Drink up. Let’s get inside before my wheels ice up.’
It felt weird to go through the creaking double doors of the Low Anchor for the first time in ten years. Even though Grace was pushing Joan ahead of her like a battering ra
