There was a natural connection between the two women who had both clearly come out the other side of some unpleasant phases of their lives; neither took any prisoners.
“You must be wrecking your body.” Mike was gently shaking her head.
“How did you wreck yours?” Josie asked, but before she received an answer, the person that Mike held responsible for her injuries was calling on her phone.
“Hello,” Mike answered.
“How’s your holiday?” Leonard asked.
“I’m sitting outside with a friend, having a beer.”
“Then, hey, I’ll keep it brief. Our boss is flying in tomorrow to where you are, so things are getting more urgent. Have you found the person you’re looking for?”
“Yes, I married him. You remember him, I’m sure.” She paused for effect. “As to the other guy, I hope to meet him tomorrow at 2.00pm.”
“Have you spoken to him?”
“No, but I have a name, the date, the time and the address of the meeting. At the moment, I’m sitting within half a mile of the location, drinking my well-earned beer.”
“If I said I’ve had to change my underpants twice already today, would that tell you how nervous I am? It could all happen quickly.”
“The idea that you own more than one pair of underpants has thrown me completely and may allow me to enjoy the rest of my beer.”
“Call me after the meeting.” He ended the call.
Mike put down her phone and picked up her beer. Josie could barely look Mike in the eye as she tried to control her smile, the evening sunshine turning her face the colour of caramel.
“Is this guy with the underpants an uncle, a sugar daddy or someone you met on Tinder?”
“Josie, if only one of those three disgusting options were true.”
The waiter was obvious only because he walked in front of the setting sun.
“Same again, sport.” This was the first time that Josie had sounded truly Australian.
“He’s an old boss in case you’re getting creeped out,” Mike explained.
“And you have a meeting tomorrow?”
“Yes, over there.” Mike was now reasonably relaxed and nodded towards the harbour offices.
“I’m guessing you’re not here on holiday?”
“Sadly, not.” Mike hesitated, but then continued, “I’m looking for my brother-in-law. He’s gone missing.”
“Strewth, I’m sorry. Is he Moroccan?”
“No, American … he’s working out here for some energy company.”
“What’s this got to do with your old boss with the underpants?”
Mike hated the way that her job had made her suspicious of everyone she met – even a random backpacker from Australia whom she had met on a bus in the middle of Morocco.
“They know each other. He’s concerned as well.”
“So, what do you do when you’re not tracking down relatives?”
“I have a boring job in IT. I sit at a computer all day.” In most cases, Mike had found that this bland statement bored people into not asking further questions.
“I didn’t have you down as a geek.”
“What do you do?” Mike asked trying to switch the conversation.
“I was in the ADF, the Australian army,” Josie replied.
“Is that where the shit happened?”
“In 2014, I was part of the first female intake into the special forces. Unlike in the movies, not every job goes according to plan.” Her voice rose at the end of most sentences. She took a large mouthful of beer. A coldness had come into her eyes. “What wrecked your body?” Josie asked.
“Car accident that killed my husband. It messed up this leg, and my hair decided to start falling out.”
“Sorry. Shit happens.”
There was a mutual respect growing.
“Why do you have such long hair if you spend your life running marathons?”
“Because I spent so many years with my head shaved. Why do you wear a wig?”
