“That’s pony girl 314,” she said, “Without my costume I’m back to being Sandra Ottershaw.”
“No wonder they called you 314,” he laughed and he swung his jacket from his shoulders, “Here have my jacket.” She took it gratefully but winced at the pain shooting through her arms as she slipped it on, it hung to half way down her thigh, “So where is this damaged path?”
She glanced at the cart and her discarded costume, the ostrich feathers from her head dress now soaked and covered in sand and completely ruined, “Pick it up on the way back,” Andy suggested, “Shall we?”
She led him back to the path, a simple sandy path but defined and contained within concrete edging across the dunes and paved with york stone paving slabs across various small stone or concrete bridges over cracks and chasms in the hard granite rock that made this island.
