By the time Sacha left her flat Mal and his bandmates had already started playing. It was only a last-minute decision of hers to go out: she suddenly couldn't bear another night in front of the T.V. watching some repeat of a movie she'd avoided the first time 'round, or some first-run second-rate drama series or a game of cricket; the hot water had run out so she couldn't have a long bath; and she suddenly felt keenly just how small her flat was.

So she picked up her street directory and zig-zagged her way to Richmond. She didn't usually bother to dress up for a night out, so she was out the door within a minute of deciding to leave.

Alain was already there when she arrived, and she quickly spotted Mal up on stage with a grin on his face like an eight-year-old, but she couldn't see Rona anywhere.

"She hasn't turned up yet" shouted Alain over the music. "They play a couple of sets" he explained, pointing to the stage and leaning towards Sacha's ear. "Rona usually only bothers to turn up for the second set, so she should be here later." Sacha nodded.

"Did I tell you . . ." shouted Alain, his voice drowned out in the noise.

"What?" replied Sacha.

"I said, did I tell you you're looking particularly sexy tonight?"

Sacha shook her head. Alain shouted again:

"Did I tell you -"

"I heard you" shouted Sacha. "I just didn't think the comment deserved a response."

"What?"

Sacha sighed. "Forget it."

"What?"

"Fucking just forget it!"

Alain shrugged and looked up to the stage giving a thumbs up to Mal (who wasn't watching). He turned back to Sacha. "There'll be a break between sets" he shouted. "Twenty minutes or so. D'you wanna get something to eat?"

Sacha looked at him and he mimed eating.

"No!" she replied irritably. She was starving. "Where the fuck's Rona?"