He was. I raised a brow in hisdirection."Hey, uh, aren't you supposed to be by the fountain? It's show timeisn't it?"Ethan stopped playing and looked ...orlorn. He was clearly not happy withhis performance. I was shocked that his usual devil-may-care attitudecrumbled when faced with something more than simple speech. Was itpossible that everything was an act, his television references, hissarcasm? Was it simply the way he dealt with his nervousness? Withouthis wit and only a guitar, he was laid. Down the steep path, me in flip-flops ('thongs' actually cos we are in Australia). Across the shingle with its pieces of wood, bleached white and those little bits of indestructible blue cord that you find on every beach in the world.Behind an outcrop of sandy-coloured rock, our secret cove. No-one but us would take the trouble to clamber this far over the unfriendly rocks but the cove has lovely big flat stones worn smooth by the wind and weather.We undress quickly and, hand in hand, run. More

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