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most of it before the hospital walls enclosed her again? Slipping a sun-dress over her bikini and collecting a towel, a Mars bar and her beach-bag, she walked down the road to the sea.
    If she had anticipated having the beach to herself she couldn't have been more wrong. It wasn't crowded and it wouldn't be for another hour, she knew, but there were several bobbing heads in the water, and little bundles of towels and discarded clothes were lying around on the stones. There was a family having breakfast, complete with spread cloth. One or two of the promenade shops were pulling out their awnings and beach chalets were being unlocked. The day was unfolding itself.
    Stripping off her dress and standing for a minute in her black and white bikini enjoying the kiss of the sun on her skin, Anna stepped over the shingle and plunged into the water, gasping at its chill. But once submerged it was blissful; heaven to be lifted like a feather-weight by the incoming swell, then swept down into its valley of glass-mountain smoothness and up on the other side.
    How lucky she was to be living on the coast; how lucky she was to be able to relax like this; to have the sea practically on her doorstep—a mere distance of two roads away.
    She struck out away from the shore, then turned and swam parallel with it. From so far away the people on the beach looked like marionettes. Exhausted at last, she turned on her back, letting the water take her, floating and staring up into blueness and emptying her mind of everything but the here and now—the sun, and sea, and the sky.
    Some fifteen minutes later she turned for the shore and swam in, scrambling quickly upright before her knees hit the sand. It was when she was wading through the surf that she spotted the man sitting by her beach-bag—a long-limbed man in denim shorts and T-shirt, a man who got to his feet in one light springing movement as he saw her approach.
    With a feeling of shock she recognised Simon and was immediately conscious of the way she must look to him as she emerged from the sea, half-naked and streaming with water with her hair plastered down like a cap. 'Fancy meeting here!' was all she seemed capable of saying.
    'Why so surprised?' He came forward to help her over the bank of shingle. 'It's the nearest bathing beach for both of us, and if we both like an early dip, which clearly we do...' He smiled at her easily, watching her pick up her towel.
    'It's heaven in the water.'
    'I know; I've been in. I rent one of the chalets.' He gestured back to the line of little 'houses' with their green roofs and red front doors. 'I was just getting dressed when I spotted you striking out for Dieppe!'
    'I'm a strong swimmer.'
    'I could see that.'
    Her face emerged from the towel, dry now and slightly flushed, her hair already beginning to shade to its' customary red-gold and arrange itself in curves.
    'Is this your weekend off?' he asked, and she shook her head.
    'No, it's not. I'm on duty at twelve; I'd better go and get dressed.'
    'Join the contortionists, you mean?' He glanced over towards the breakwater, where one or two bathers were trying to dress beneath towels which kept slicing off.
    'Well, at least I shan't be alone,' Anna laughed, and was about to say goodbye and walk away when he thrust a hand in his shorts and pulled out a key.
    'Look I've just thought,' he exclaimed, 'why not use my chalet? Come with me and I'll unlock it for you— it's a little stiff to turn.'
    She hesitated and was about to refuse, for she didn't want to get closer to him, did she? Then she thought how stupid that was. Borrowing his chalet was innocuous enough, and far more dignified than wriggling under an inadequate towel. It would be downright rude to refuse. So, 'Thanks,' she said, 'that's very kind.'
    'Not at all; it makes sense.' His tone was brisk. They began to walk up the beach, clish-clashing over the shingle to the lower promenade, where he unlocked the door of chalet nine, and left her to. go