Chapter Thirty Three
Irene wasn’t sure if Seven Mile Beach was, in truth, seven miles long. But it felt like it.
They drove north from the Hilton and Irene admired the line of fun-palaces crowding the sand, each competing with the next in opulence and grandeur. The sun was warm but the air cool and fresh and they drove with the windows down. Irene breathed deeply and began to unwind like she had just been released from a lifetime’s drudgery and was finally on a wonderful holiday.
“There’s a nice property,” Jack said and slowed the car to study a pink pyramid of glass and coral stone.
“It’s lovey,” Irene agreed and watched Jack hold a miniature camera up to his face. He seemed to have an eye for the unusual and she momentarily wondered if this same trait applied to his women. And with h
