He left the bungalow and walked to the house. Again, no one. For some reason, his concern was mounting. He tried to tell himself that he was being an ...ver protective old fuddy duddy, but the tension in his stomach grew. Finally he climbed in the Porsche and headed along one of the narrow dirt roads that paralleled the ribbon of white beach. He stopped periodically, idling the Porsche and walking through the low foliage on the dunes to scan the shimmering sand. Where the hell was Davie?He was. Certainly no younger than I. He was a terrible flirt, especially when Neville or Mags, his wife, was around, always called me 'Babe' and gave me a peck on the cheek. If Neville was around he would say 'If she ever wears you out Nev, give me a call and I'll help you out.' And Neville would always reply 'I will, and tell Mags if you are no longer up to it she can rely on me!' Neville and Young Andy were very much alike, always teasing us girls something rotten. I'm surprised we never called their. More

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