The café was called “The Green Bean” and was pretty off-beat. There were old LP’s instead of place-mats, the kitchen was quite visible from the tables, lentils and pesto featured prominently on the menu and there was the heavy, sweet smell of weed being smoked somewhere out the back. Despite that, it was quirky rather than sleazy. I couldn’t help liking it.

I’d dressed carefully that evening, choosing comfortable trousers, a loose, long-sleeved cotton blouse that seemed to float in the slightest breeze, and a soft pashmina-like shawl. With my hair down I felt suitably feminine but relatively modest. God only knew what would happen later than night but I didn’t think a plunging neckline and short skirt would be all that suitable. I’d been ready early so had stopped at the busy hotel bar for a drink, eventually finding a vacant armchair. I’d leant back and relaxed, slowly sipping a Kahlua. There wasn’t much view as it was already dark. Even the lights I’d watched last night were slowly disappearing into fog.

It had been eerie outside with the mist swirling around and distorting the light. I’d half-expected to be grabbed as I walked the single block to the café and thought it would have been too bad if I really was mugged as I passed the dimly-lit children’s park clinging to the side of the road. But I’d reached the café, and nothing had happened. I’d felt foolish for my jumpiness. Relax, I told myself, whatever will be will be.

Archer was already there and had chosen a table against the wall.

“Hello.” He stood up politely as I came in, and took my shawl. There was even a coat stand near the door, a very good idea considering how often you had to wear heavy jackets and hats up here. I didn’t worry about hiding my surprise that he was alone, and he had the grace to look a bit awkward and fidget with his placemat as I sat down.

“Um.” He even managed to blush slightly. “Stuart has a headache and thought he’d get an early night. I’m afraid it’s just you and I”

“I hope he gets better soon.” I played out the charade in all seriousness.

“Ah, actually, it will be nice to have some time together by ourselves…”

I let him off the hook, “Diplomatic headache, was it?” and smiled. Relieved, he smiled back.

“Yes.”

It was almost too easy to forget why I was here, and certainly no hardship to be romanced, in an alternate sort of way, by Archer. Staying in character wasn’t difficult – I’d done it for months on end before – and I appreciated his sense of humour. He was a good conversationalist too, not to mention that he was also very easy on the eye. A tiny voice in the background of my mind piped in, wondering what sort of human being could be so callous as to lure me into a trap this way. But the louder voice at the front didn’t care in the slightest.

The stubby candle on the stand between us gradually burned lower, finally drowning itself with a stubborn hiss. I’d lost all track of time and was startled to find it nearly eleven o’clock. The café was almost empty, a single waitress lethargically resetting tables accompanied by an occasional clang of washing up from the kitchen.

“Would you look at the time!”

“Do you turn into a pumpkin at midnight?” he teased.

“No, but I was planning a fairly big day tomorrow. I thought I’d go horse-riding down in the Megalong Valley, then maybe have a wander around Leura again.”

“Had you booked yet?” He qualified, “It sounds like fun.”

“No I haven’t. Do you want to come along?” I was totally innocent.

“I’d like that. Thank you. Now, can I take you for a drink to wash down dinner?”      

I hesitated. “I would, but I really should be getting back. I need the sleep. I’ve been too busy recently, too much going on in my life…” Would he jump on this hint of information to come?

“Well, in that case, the only thing I can do to see a bit more of you is to walk you home.”

I laughed. “I’m a big girl. I’ll be right.”

“Oh I know but, hey, just humour me. Besides I really don’t think you should be walking around at this time of night by yourself.”

I gave him that special smile women reserve for men who think we’re all fragile. “Come on then.”

I collected my shawl on the way out and wrapped it around myself. It was surprisingly cool now. The fog was thicker than ever, cars and streetlights oozing out of it, then as quickly melting away. Maybe he was right – I could easily believe in ghosts on a night like this, and said as much. In reply, Archer just took my hand and held it gently, a little unsure of himself. I didn’t pull it back again so he held it more tightly, comforting in the darkness.

We walked slowly, unwilling, it seemed, to reach the hotel too quickly. Passing the park, he slowed, turned towards me and wrapped his arms carefully around me, pressing me to him. The first embrace with anyone, I’ve always felt like a gawky teenager and tonight was no different. I leant in to him, hearing his heartbeat racing as I rested my ear against his chest. I was trembling and was sure he could feel my heart striving to outdo his. The trees leant down over the footpath here and I relaxed in their privacy, lifting my head naturally up towards him, expecting the kiss. He was clumsy, and smiled at himself, before bending down more confidently and placing his mouth firmly on mine. It was wonderful, and I kissed him back, wanting it to last. A car drove quietly past us, the swish of its tyres on the wet road nearly the only sound. When it stopped nearby, Archer drew back, looking enquiringly towards it.          

“I’m sorry Portia,” he breathed.

“What for?” I smiled up at him. “I didn’t mind at all.”

“No,” he said gently, softly, and reached down to me again. This time he was firmer, and when I tried to back away, he wouldn’t let go. Instead, he held me more tightly and pushed me towards the car.

“What are you doing?” I put every ounce of strength I could summon into my voice. It was hoarse, and sounded strangely lonely in the silence around us.

“I’m sorry,” he said again and he suddenly let go of me, heaving me violently the last few feet towards the car.

Its doors were open now and I landed, breathless, on my hands and knees beside it. Two more men loomed out of the darkness of the park and grabbed me, rough fingers dug into my arms and legs, and I was shoved unceremoniously into the back seat. It was over before I had a chance to take a breath, let alone even think about calling for help. Still holding me, they slid themselves into the car. Archer was already in the front seat. Then we were driving through the deserted streets, light flashing rhythmically through the car as we passed each lamp-post.