The drove out to Frankston, not far from the club Pat had worked at a few weeks prior. She parked in one of the small bays set into the scrub that created a natural divider between the sand and the road.
“Do you want to go in here and eat?” asked Nat, pointing up at the restaurant perched above the sailing club. It was built from panels of glass that glinted in the sun. The rails and fixtures, however, were a muted steel grey that refused to reflect the light. Continue reading